#kid birthday party places near you

[harryslittlefreakk]

off limits

summary: planning your brother’s birthday turns into crossing a line with his best friend. everyone say thank you @bethiegurl19 for the request!!!

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: angst, smut (foreplay, protected sex)

a/n: back with a bang baby!!!!!

masterlist 😋🌷🫧🍒 taglist

“You’re not bringing him.”

“You can’t dictate that.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, Harry, you can’t. It’s my house, my brother, and my-.” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what you could actually call Matt. Harry knew as well as you did that he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was the man who bothered with you when his other options were busy.

“Jake doesn’t even like him,” Harry muttered, his jaw flexing as he spoke.

“Neither of you will ever like who I date while you still see me as a kid,” you shot back, standing up too fast, feeling the wine rush to your head as you turned your back on Harry. It was the fourth night you’ve gotten together to try and plan your brother‘s birthday, the fourth night Harry had fought you about Matt.

“It’s not about that. He’s an arse and everyone sees it except you.”

You rested your elbows on the counter, rubbing at your temples. “It’s not your place to see it. But fine. I won’t invite him,” you sighed, hating that you were giving in to Harry.

“Good,” Harry all but growled, downing the rest of his wine in one sip.

“And I don’t still see you as a kid,” he added, walking over to you, his hand brushing your side as he reached for a new bottle of wine. His touch was light, barely even there, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, heat blossoming against your skin. You could feel his presence next to you, close enough that the scent of his cologne mixed with the dry oaky smell of the wine on his breath. He hesitated for the briefest second, his hand lingering near your side. But even if he had noticed the way you’d gone totally rigid, he didn’t say anything.

You moved away slightly, trying to focus on the wine splashing into the glasses in front of you, the walls of the glass stained pink from Harry’s sloppy pouring, ignoring the way your skin buzzed in the aftermath of his touch. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, your mood worse.

“You’re not even pouring it right,” you muttered, snapping at Harry before you could stop yourself.

His head turned, and you could feel his eyes on you as he straightened, the bottle still in his hand.

“Pouring it right?”, he laughed, that fucking smirk tugging at his lips. It boiled your blood.

You turned to lean your hip against the counter, grabbing the bottle from his grip.

Harry let out another low, frustrated laugh, raking a hand through his long curls as he turned towards you fully.

“Relax,” he said finally, pulling the bottle back slamming it back down on the counter. “You’ve been on my case all week. The decorations, the music – you fought me on every single thing. What, because I don’t like your little boyfriend?”

You froze as Harry stepped closer, his tense frame towering over you. His green eyes were locked on yours, sharp and darkened in his frustration.

“Tell me then. What the fuck are you even doing with a guy like Matt?” His voice was low and biting, but not teasing in the way you’d grown to expect.

Your jaw clenched, your throat dry as your hands reached behind you to grip onto the edge of the counter. “You don’t know him,” was all you managed to say.

“Yes I do, y/n. I went to school with him. Jake went to school with him. And I’ve seen enough of him to know he hasn’t changed at all,” Harry shot back, his voice rising.

“It’s none of your business! I’m old enough to make my own mistakes. I don’t need either of you to protect me anymore,” you shouted, glaring at Harry.

“You never needed our protection. But look at you! You’re trying to pick a fight because I don’t think your hook up should be at Jake’s party. Is he even worth it?”

Your stomach twisted at Harry’s words, heat flooding your cheeks. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if despite all of Matt’s other flaws, of which there were many, he was a good enough fuck for you to keep him around.

“It’s worth it just to piss you off,” you mumbled.

Harry ran a hand over his face, looking straight through you as he laughed. “You’ve wasted a year fucking him because it pisses me off?”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“Why not? Because you don’t want to admit that’s the entire reason you carried on seeing him? Or because you don’t want to admit that he isn’t even a good fuck?”

You opened your mouth to spit something back at Harry, but nothing came out. Harry clearly knew you better than you thought, and no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

Your silence didn’t go unnoticed. That same irritating look of amusement was still on Harry’s face as he looked down at you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes flickering to your lips where they lingered for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

You hated him in that moment. For being right, for knowing you so well, for backing you into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of. But more than anything you hated how your body was reacting to him, the way his closeness made your heart race.

You wanted to punch him, to shove him out of your house and never see him again. But when your hand reached out towards Harry, it betrayed you, gripping at his t-shirt and pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

It was all the confirmation he needed. His lips were on yours, rough and urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally couldn’t anymore. For a split second, you froze, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then his hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You kissed him back without thinking, your hands clutching at the cotton of his t-shirt as if you needed to hold on to something to keep from falling. His body pressed against yours, his warmth searing into you, that big wall of muscle pushing against your front.

Harry groaned against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he backed you up against the counter. The edge of it pressed into your lower back, but you didn’t care. All you could care about was him - the way his lips moved against yours, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way he tasted like wine and heat and something unmistakably Harry.

He stepped back, running a hand through his curls, his breathing uneven as his eyes darted between your face and the floor. His lips were red and swollen, and you couldn’t look at him without feeling like the world had tilted sideways. He stared at you, his eyes dark and wild, his hands still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes were still dark and locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough. “Didn’t seem like you minded.”

“I should go,” he said quietly after a minute, his voice hoarse and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

Your chest tightened, but you nodded, your arms wrapping around yourself in a futile attempt to fill the sudden ache his words created. “Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes. “You should.”

For a moment, he hesitated, like he was waiting for you to stop him. But you didn’t. You just stood there, rooted in place as he turned toward the door. He didn’t look back as he left, and the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt deafening.

You let out a breath, leaning back against the counter as you tried to gather your thoughts. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, your skin still warm where his hands had held you, and you hated how empty the room felt without him. You hated that you even wanted him to stay and kiss you again.

The thought hit you like a wave, but you shook it off, forcing yourself to push away the longing that crept into your chest. He was gone, and it was already messy. It didn’t need to go deeper.

But when the knock at the door came, your heart leapt into your throat, and before you could even process what you were doing, you were pulling it open.

Harry stood there, his hand braced on the doorframe, his eyes dark as they met yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was fighting an internal battle he’d already lost.

“I couldn’t go,” he said finally, his voice rough.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, because he was stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him as his hands found your waist. He pulled you to him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding yours with a desperate, hungry urgency that left you breathless.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered against your lips, his voice thick with frustration as his hands gripped your thighs. “You know that?”

“You’re the one who came back,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you again, deeper this time.

“Yeah, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck, sending a shiver racing through you. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how I’m right. Matt isn’t enough for you, is he?”

Your breath hitched, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp. “Don’t—”

You hated how easily he got under your skin, how his words hit far too close to the truth. “You’re so full of yourself,” you snapped, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling under the weight of his presence.

Harry smirked, his hands tightening on your hips as he carried you toward your bedroom, not breaking eye contact. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dripping with confidence. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

You didn’t answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But the heat in your cheeks and the way you clung to him told him everything he needed to know.

By the time he reached your bedroom, your resolve was gone, replaced by a desperate ache in your core that only he could seem to satisfy. He laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel,” he murmured, his voice rough but steady.

And as his lips found yours again, his green eyes locked onto yours for just a split second, looking at you in a way that showed you both permission and forgiveness.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Harry whispered, his words muffled against your mouth, the scent of the wine warm against your skin.

“I can handle it,” you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“Say you’ll tell me,” he repeated, firm and commanding.

“I’ll tell you,” you echoed, heat spreading through your body as he planted his hands either side of your head, caging you in.

The silver rings on his fingers caught the lone beam of moonlight streaming through the curtains, the chilled metal brushing against your skin as he moved closer still. Your gaze follow the lines of his tattoos, the dark ink curling up his forearm, disappearing under the pushed-up sleeve of his t-shirt.

Harry‘s mouth moved from yours to the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over your wild pulse with a deliberate slowness. His teeth grazed your skin, a contrast to the soft flex of his tongue as he kissed his way down, and you couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that slipped past your lips.

“Think you finally ran out of shit to say,“ he teased, his hand shifting to wrap your leg around his hip, his touch firm and possessive as he pressed himself against you.

The hardness of him against your inner thigh made your head spin, the friction of his jeans against the thin cotton of your leggings burning into you. You rolled your lower lip into your mouth, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape as his hips rolled against yours, his cock pushing against you.

“These jeans,“ you whispered, your voice breathy as your hand slid between your bodies, tugging at their skin-tight waistband. “I hate them.”

“D’you really?” Harry asked, his voice laced with that same teasing amusement as he moved back off the bed. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re driving you crazy right now.“

You glared up at him, your lips pulled into a reluctant smirk, waiting on your brain to form some sort of comeback. Instead, you pushed up onto your knees, grabbing at Harry‘s t-shirt until his lips crashed back onto yours in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and frustration.

Harry groaned into your mouth, the sound low and guttural as it echoed through you, his hands roaming over your body, sliding beneath your t-shirt. His touch left trails of fire and goosebumps in its wake, your back arching into him, your fingers curling into his hair.

“D’you want me to stop?“ he murmured against your lips.

“No,“ you breathed, your lips brushing against his before his mouth captured yours again. More insistent now, his fingers splayed across the curve of your waist. Your world was spinning with every touch, your every thought consumed by him – his taste, his scent, the way his lean frame press against yours like even an inch of empty space between you would be too much.

He let you part for just a second, just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes somehow darkening even further as they roamed the skin that had, until then, been off limits to him. His breath hitched, his fingers skimming along the soft lace of your bra. He took his time, like he wanted to memorise every inch of you.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice gravelly yet almost silent, as if he wasn’t saying that to you, but to himself.

Your eyebrows quirked in questioning as his eyes snapped back to yours, something dangerous in the depths of darkened greens. “More than I should’ve,” he confessed, leaning down to press his lips to the sharp angle of your collarbone. “Much more.“

His confession sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers finding their way back to his hair, tugging him closer as his mouth continued down your body.

When his fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings, he paused, pushing you softly back down onto the bed, his eyes boring into you. “I need to hear you say you want this,“ he said, pushing his free hand through his curls.

“I want this,” you breathed without hesitation. “I want you.”

That was the final confirmation he needed, his hands never leaving your skin as he stripped away the barriers between you, first the remainder of your clothes, and then his.

When he finally pulled his shirt off, you let your eyes wander over his body, drinking in the sharp lines of his torso, the way his tattoos rose and fell with his breathing. You kept your gaze on his body as he kicked off those damn jeans and his underwear, Letting yourself appreciate the soft smack of his cock against his flesh as he freed it, something your teenage self was sure to thank you for.

You felt your eyes wide and slightly as you registered his size, your breath catching in your throat.

But Harry only smirked, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, his hand sliding under you to cut the back of your neck as his body settled over yours. His weight, his heat, the feel of his skin against yours – it was overwhelming.

“I told you he wasn’t enough for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him once again that he was arrogant, but his hand slid between your thighs, and the words died on your tongue.

You let out a strangled gasp of his name, your head falling back into the pillows as the part of his thumb worked at your clit.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw. “Say I’m better for you than he is.”

You wanted to fight him, to deny him and take him down a notch, but all you could do was whimper against his skin, your body arching into his touch as heat pooled in your core.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his lips trailing across all the skin they could reach, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

The roughness of his hands contrasted with the gentle touch of his movements, intoxicating and addictive as his hips ground against yours.

“You’re already so worked up for me,” he muttered, his voice almost a growl as he pushed two fingers into you. “All this time, y’just needed to be fucked right.”

“Shut up,” you managed to bite back, losing the edge to your voice as his fingers flexed against your sweet spot.

Harry chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that sent shivers down your spine. “That’s why you get so riled up. Because every time I fight you about Matt, you’re thinking about this.”

You tried to glare at him, but the way his fingers fucked into you made it impossible to do anything but push your hips against his touch, your cheek turning to him as his lips grazed your ear.

“What do you think about, hmm? Me touching you like this?” he continued, taking your silence as confirmation.

“Harry,” you groaned, gathering a fistful of his hair as his hand stilled, his thumb pressed to your nerves.

“C’mon, kitten. Tell me,” he pressed, a commanding edge to his words that only deepened the ache in your core.

“What you’d feel like, how you’d sound. How you’d fuck m-“

You didn’t get to finish, Harry’s lips were on yours again, swallowing the rest of your words in a kiss so deep and consuming that it felt like he was pulling the life from your body. He pushed a third finger into you, his rings stone-cold against your folds, the silence punctured by breathy gasps and your wetness pushing in and out of you with his every movement.

Your breathing quickened, each stroke of Harry’s fingers building the pressure in your core. He worked at you expertly, his thumb circling your clit in a rhythm that had your skin overheating, your toes starting to curl, your hips bucking into his palm.

His name spilled from your lips like a mantra as your body tensed. Harry kept his eyes locked on you, his brows furrowed as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, his voice thick and coaxing, his fingers curling just right to hit the sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The tension that had built inside you snapped, a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing over you with such power that you couldn’t hold back from crying out. Your muscles tightened around his fingers as hot, pulsing waves of pleasure worked their way over your skin, leaving sharp tingles in their wake.

Harry didn’t let up, drawing out your high with slow, deliberate movements, his thumb back to pressing firmly at your clit as his fingers worked you through it.

When you finally went limp beneath him, your chest heaving, he slowly withdrew his hand, the sudden lack of touch drawing out a needy whine from your throat.

You watched through blurry eyes as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste you. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, an appreciative groan echoing from his throat.

You let out a shaky breath, your head spinning, your world now entirely tilted on its axis. But Harry didn’t give you much time to recover. He leaned back down, his lips brushing yours, letting you taste your sweetness on his tongue as his hand cupped your cheek.

“Not done with you yet,” he promised, his voice muffled against your lips.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your mouth quirking into a smile, heart racing as he fished through his pockets for a condom.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he said, tearing the foil wrapper with his teeth as he knelt between your legs. “Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard as he rolled the condom over his cock, his length hard and heavy in his hand.

“I can handle you,” you retorted, heat flooding through you.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his nose brushing against yours as he lined himself up, his tip just barely pressing against your entrance. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

He pushed into you slowly, his hips rolling forward inch by inch. The stretch had you gasping, your hands flying to his shoulders. Harry groaned, the sound raw and guttural, his forehead falling to yours as he stilled, letting you adjust to him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice strained. “Feel so good, princess.”

Your fingernails dug into his skin as your body arched into his, trying to adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him. “Move,” you whimpered, desperate for him to do something to help ease the ache building inside you.

Harry obeyed, his hips rolling back before snapping forward again, and again, the force of his thrusts sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He moved deliberately, his pace slow and calculated, his free hand grabbing needily at the flesh of your hip.

“Look at you,” he groaned, full of awe as he watched the way your body responded to him. “Taking me so well. You were made for this.”

Your head rolled back on the pillow, your nails raking down Harry’s back as he drove into you, his pace unrelenting. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and Harry’s gravelly groans as he buried himself in you over and over again.

Every thrust brought you closer to the brink, the coil in your stomach tightening with every snap of his hips. Harry seemed to sense it, his hand sliding underneath his body, finding your clit and circling the nerves with practiced precision.

“You gonna come for me?” he asked, his teeth grazing the skin at your jaw. “Gonna let me feel you fall apart?”

Your entire body trembled as Harry’s words broke through the fog in your mind, his deep, commanding tone sending shockwaves through you. His fingers on your clit matched the rhythm of his thrusts, each movement calculated to push you further into a haze of pleasure.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands clutching desperately at his curls.

“Wanna feel how good I make you feel,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your back arched off the bed as his hips slammed into yours, the angle perfect, his cock burying itself deep inside you. You howled out his name, your walls clenching and pulsing around him.

Harry groaned deeply, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he fought to maintain control.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t stop, his hips continuing to drive into you, his fingers on your clit prolonging your orgasm until your body shuddered from the overstimulation. You writhed and whimpered, trying to ground yourself, but Harry wasn’t done with you yet.

“You’ve got another one in you,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and full of intent.

“I can’t,” you whined, completely sure that you couldn’t handle more, that another orgasm might break you, but the fire in his gaze told you it wasn’t a question.

He shifted, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, your body already sensitive, but the way his cock dragged against your sweet spot had you spiraling all over again.

His fingers left your clit only to grab your other thigh, pulling you flush against him, his pace growing rougher, more desperate. “You feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Feel how good you’re taking me? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You could barely think, your mind foggy with pleasure as the pressure built inside you again, faster and harder this time. Harry’s lips found yours, swallowing your moans, his movements growing erratic as he chased his own release.

“Come with me,” he urged, his forehead pressing against yours, his voice barely more than a breath. “Come with me, kitten. Let me feel you.”

And then you were falling again, your body clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and all-consuming. Harry followed just a second later, his groan low and guttural as he buried himself deep, his body trembling as he spilled into you.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both came down from the high. Harry’s weight pressed against you, grounding you, his lips ghosting over your temple in a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer now, full of concern as he brushed your damp hair away from your face.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay.”

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and comforting as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your cheek. “Still think I’m full of myself?”

You shook your head, “no. Just thinking about me being full of you,” you grinned, biting down on your lip.

He cupped the back of your head, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, holding you flush to his body. “I think your brother might kill me,” he whispered, a nervous edge to his usually steady voice.

[obsesssedblerd]

New years’ kisses with the jjk guys <3 

Contains: au where everyone is happy and in love, hella fluff.

Gojo would make a couple of teasing comments, but on the inside, he’d be so thrilled that you looked over at him when the countdown started and everyone at the party began pairing up. He thought that telling a few stupid jokes would distract you from the fact that he’s definitely blushing. When the clock hits midnight and you kiss him, the fireworks that go off outside are nothing compared to the fireworks that he feels. He’d never tell you, but it was exactly how he imagined that his first kiss with you would go. Best night ever. Behind you, you hear your students, Yuuta and Maki, mutter, “Finally.” 

Geto would find you outside so he could call you back in to join everyone else, but you look so pretty and content watching the moon that he didn’t want to disturb you. You notice that he’s watching, so you invite him to sit with you. Right as you hear everyone back inside begin counting down, you feel him place his hand on top of yours. Your heart leaps in your chest when he tells you that he wanted to kiss you to start the new year on a good note. At first, you try to do what he came to do and head back to the party with him where your friends were, but he stops you and tells you that he changed his mind and would like to kiss you where it was quiet instead. Your very first kiss with him was right at midnight, underneath the serene light of the moon. 

Nanami loves kissing you at the start of the year. Even though you’ve been together for six years and have been married for four, you still feel butterflies whenever your husband comes to give you a kiss at midnight on January first. The kids are asleep, and the both of you are enjoying some quiet time on the couch, sipping wine and laughing about how excited and happy your kids were on christmas. He’d turn to you with a small, loving smile and gently kiss you, whispering, “Happy new year, my love,” near your lips. You smile in return and hug him close, careful not to spill your wine. “I love you so much,” you tell him, then pull back and clink your glass against his. “To another great year.”

Toji loves this part, because not only is his birthday on December 31st, he also gets to start the new year with you. Once Tsumiki and Megumi are asleep, you find him in the kitchen eating an extra slice of birthday cake, a little tipsy from the champagne you two had earlier. The sight is a perfect mixture of adorable and ridiculous. You wipe the frosting from the corner of his mouth and ask him if he had fun, and he looks towards the clock on the microwave. “Yeah,” he answers with a light smile. “And it’s about to get even better.” He pulls you in by your waist and gently kisses you, and you taste hints of champagne and cake. “Happy new year, pretty,” he says. “Thanks for makin’ life so special.” 

Choso would ask either Yuuji or Yuki for tips on how to ask you to be his new year’s kiss, because he’s a bit shy and doesn’t want to mess it up. When the minute countdown begins, Yuuji “accidentally” nudges you in his older brother’s direction. You knew what was up, and you wanted Choso to tell you directly. You stand in front of him with a knowing smile as he tries to form the right sentence, and finally, you reach for his hand and just nod. His shoulders slump in relief, and the smile that he gives you is the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. The countdown reaches ten seconds, and over the loud crowds, you hear Yuuji scream in desperation. “Just do it!! She’s right there!!” When midnight strikes, Choso leans in and kisses you. Both of you smile behind each other’s lips when Yuuji cheers. The most perfect way to begin the new year. 

Shiu would kiss you twenty minutes before midnight, right at midnight, and then twenty minutes after midnight. Since the both of you had plenty to drink at the party with your friends, you and him were lost in light kisses, silly jokes and plenty of laughter. “We still haven't cleaned up the wrapping paper from Christm— Oh, what d’ya know?” Shiu flashes a flirty grin at you. “It’s midnight. Gotta kiss you. Y’know, new years and stuff.” You laugh at that, but don’t lean away from him. “Shiu, it’s almost one in the morning. You already kissed me!” His arms circle around your waist, and he kisses your forehead before kissing your lips. “Won’t ever get enough of kissing you. Happy new year, princess. I love you.” 

Sukuna would surprise you. He leads you into the courtyard late at night of his massive estate, and you assumed that he had something important to tell you. You remember overhearing a task he had for Uraume, and you wonder if he’d be sending you with them. “What is it, your highness?” You ask shyly. Sukuna is silent for a brief moment, and you don’t speak. Not afraid, but curious. In the distance, you hear the fireworks go off from other humans celebrating in the towns and cities. You’re about to look at them, but Sukuna cups your face and slowly leans in to kiss you. You’re shocked, but so happy and excited you feel like you’d burst. When he pulls away, his thumb brushes against your cheek. “Happy new year,” he says quietly. You grin brightly. “You brought me out here to give me a new year’s kiss? I’m so honored.” Sukuna scoffs at that, and he turns away before you can see the small smile.

[badathumanemotions]

Hello! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are I'm begging for an emily prentiss × female!reader with a dom/sub dynamic involving... Scissoring (I don't know if that's how you say it, but that's how I'm going to say it) after a difficult private case involving children (which is Emily's weak point) and I thought about breeding kinks, if possible (I think it's hot involving sapphic couples). Please?

The Quiet After

Emily Prentiss x femReader

MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Normal Criminal Minds Warnings, Case Involving Children, BAU Reader, Angst, Smut, Oral Sex, Tribidism, Scissoring, Strap On, Breeding Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Comfort. WC: 7,852 *Updated* Completely missed the first section while transferring it over, sorry about that. (Not Proof Read)

The case weighs heavily on Emily. It’s in her eyes—those tired, worn-out eyes you’ve come to know better than anyone else’s. She doesn’t let it show on the surface, but you can feel it. You know her. And this case, with the kids, is getting to her in a way that’s deeper than usual.

You watch her for a moment, standing at the board, her fingers tracing the photos of the missing children. The unsub believes he’s doing them a favour—taking them to a “better” place. It’s not hard to guess why it hits Emily so hard. There’s a part of her, a quiet, secret part, that wants to be a mother. She’s told you once, during one of those rare moments when she lets her guard down, when it’s just the two of you, and she’s soft, vulnerable in ways that few people get to see.

You’ve seen the subtle changes—the way her hands linger over the files of the kids, her shoulders tightening as the day stretches on. She’s struggling, but you’re here. You’re with her. And even when the case is consuming her, she finds ways to steal small moments with you, little gestures that recharge her.

A quiet kiss behind the SUV after the briefing. Her hand slipping into yours as you walk to the next scene. The brief press of her lips to your temple when she thinks no one’s looking. It’s in these moments that you can feel her ground herself again, as if your touch can remind her that she’s not alone in this.

The board in the conference room is covered with photos of the missing children, their faces staring back at you. There are seven so far, ranging in age from five to eleven. Beneath each photo are snapshots of their lives—school pictures, candid moments from birthday parties, photos scraped from social media. It’s a cruel juxtaposition against the grim reality of their current circumstances.

“The unsub is targeting children they perceive as neglected,” Spencer explains, standing near the map dotted with pins marking the locations of the abductions. “But their definition of neglect seems warped. The children’s backgrounds don’t show significant patterns of abuse or systemic failures.”

“It’s subjective,” Emily adds, her voice sharp and focused. “They’re acting on personal judgment, deciding these kids aren’t being cared for based on arbitrary criteria—like an out-of-context moment or assumption about the family dynamic.” Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a shield against the emotions brimming beneath the surface.

Garcia clicks through slides on the projector, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “This is Evan Marshall, eight years old. His mom works two jobs, so he’s often in the care of his older sister. She’s fifteen. CPS has never been involved. Teachers describe him as happy and well-adjusted.”

The photo shifts to a girl no older than twelve. “And this is Sophia Grant. Her dad is a single parent. No abuse on record, but the unsub might have seen him disciplining her in public. And then there’s Mia Lang, five years old. Her parents had a loud argument at a grocery store a week before she was taken. Someone might have seen that and made assumptions.”

“They think they’re saving these kids from a horrible life,” JJ says, shaking her head. “But in reality, they’re just ripping them away from their families.”

Spencer frowns, adding, “It’s likely that the unsub sees themselves as a redeemer, correcting what they perceive as societal failures. Each abduction reinforces their sense of righteousness. The more they take, the more justified they feel.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. The photos on the board feel suffocating. Seven children—snatched away under the guise of salvation, only to be murdered by someone who thinks they’re better off dead.

Emily’s gaze lingers on the images longer than the others. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost see the turmoil brewing beneath her composed exterior. This isn’t just another case for her. It’s personal in ways she hasn’t fully shared with anyone but you.

Later, during a quieter moment, you find her standing by the SUVs in the parking lot, her back to the building. Her fingers worry the strap of her holster, a nervous habit she doesn’t even realize she’s doing.

You approach slowly, your footsteps pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up, her expression softening slightly when her eyes meet yours.

“Hey,” you say, your voice gentle as you step closer.

She doesn’t speak immediately, but she doesn’t resist when you slide your hand into hers, offering her an anchor.

“I hate this case,” she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just the kids. It’s the way the unsub thinks they’re doing the right thing. That they’re justified.”

You nod, squeezing her hand lightly. “It’s awful. But we’ll find them, Emily. You’ll find them.”

Her jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue, but then she exhales a shaky breath and nods. “I hope so,” she murmurs.

Her hand tightens around yours, grounding herself in your touch. It’s a stolen moment, brief but powerful, as she lets herself lean into you. The team doesn’t need to see this—the way she recharges herself in the quiet moments you share.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your free hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes meet yours, and though the exhaustion is clear, there’s gratitude there too. “I will be,” she says, her voice steadier now.

You stand there together for a little longer, the weight of the case momentarily lighter between you. It’s enough to remind her—and you—that she’s not in this alone.

The tension in the room was electric as the team pieced together the final parts of the unsub’s profile. Spencer’s rapid-fire monologue laid out the psychological motivations, each word building up a picture of the unsub.

“The unsub’s fixation stems from a personal history of perceived neglect,” he explained, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “They’re projecting their own experiences onto these children and making judgment calls based on fleeting observations. The perceived neglect—a single-parent household, a sibling as a caretaker—is triggering their need to intervene.”

“They’re likely observing the children over time,” JJ added. “The unsub is targeting families that seem chaotic or unconventional from the outside, but these are often normal, loving homes. They’re misinterpreting moments—like a parent raising their voice in public or an older sibling looking overwhelmed—as signs of neglect.”

Emily’s arms were crossed tightly, her jaw set in a way you recognized. She was focused, determined, and more emotionally invested than she’d ever admit in front of the team.

“What we’ve seen so far suggests they’re escalating,” JJ added, her voice heavy with concern. “They’ve gone from abducting children every few weeks to every few days. If we don’t move fast, there’s going to be another victim.”

“Garcia, do we have anything on their potential location?” Hotch’s voice cut through the discussion with its usual authority.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning through reams of property records, utility bills, and work schedules for any anomaly that might point to a suspect. “I’m narrowing down properties owned or rented by individuals with ties to these areas," she said, her voice tense but determined. "I’m looking for someone whose daily routine brings them into contact with children in these areas—a school bus driver, a delivery person, someone who works near parks or schools. Those interactions might be how they observed the kids." She glanced at the screen. "Cross-referencing every property associated with individuals fitting the profile within a fifty-mile radius of the abduction sites. Hang tight, my loves, I’ll have something soon."

Moments later, her screen lit up with a match. "Okay, I’ve got something. George Lyman, 38 years old, works as a postal carrier in the targeted areas. His route regularly takes him through neighbourhoods where each of the victims lived. He’s single, no criminal record, but… oh." Garcia paused, her tone shifting. "He has a history of child protective services reports from his own childhood. His parents were flagged multiple times for physical and emotional abuse, but every time George ran away, he was returned to them. There are records of repeated visits by social workers, but nothing was ever done to remove him from the home.”

Emily’s face darkened. “So he sees himself in these kids, believes he’s saving them.”

Hotch nodded. “That fits with the profile. What else do we have on him?”

“He rents a farmhouse just outside town,” Garcia continued. “It’s isolated and matches the description of the type of location we’ve been looking for. I’m sending you the address now.”

You caught Emily’s eye across the room. The exhaustion in her face was mirrored in your own, but beneath it, you saw the same resolve. You gave her a small nod, and she returned it—just a fraction, but it was enough to steady you both.

The drive to the farmhouse was tense. Emily sat beside you, her leg bouncing with restless energy. She’d barely spoken since the briefing, and you knew better than to press her. Instead, you let your pinky brush hers on the console between you, a silent reassurance. She glanced at you briefly, the corners of her mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile, before turning her focus back to the road ahead.

The farmhouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky. The team split into pairs, surrounding the property. You were with Emily, your weapons drawn as you moved toward the back entrance.

“Ready?” you whispered.

She nodded, her jaw tightening. “Let’s do this.”

The door creaked open under Emily’s firm push, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of damp wood and decay. You swept the first room together, clearing it quickly before moving deeper into the house. Upstairs, muffled voices and a child’s cry sent a chill down your spine.

Emily held up a hand, signalling you to pause. She leaned toward you, her voice barely audible. “They’re up there. We need to be careful.”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. Together, you ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and silent. At the top, you found yourselves in a long hallway, the sound of the child’s cries growing louder. Emily gestured to the farthest door, and you both moved toward it.

Hotch’s voice came through your comm. “We’ve cleared the lower level. The house is empty except for one suspect. Any sign of the child?”

Emily responded quietly, “We’re about to breach a room on the second floor. Stand by.”

You reached the door and exchanged a glance with her. This was it. Emily counted down with her fingers, and on three, you burst into the room together.

The room was small, its walls covered with old wallpaper curling at the edges. A man stood in the center, his grip tight on a terrified boy’s arm. The child, no older than eight, was trembling, his tear-streaked face pale with fear.

“FBI!” Emily shouted, her voice commanding. “Drop the weapon and let the boy go!”

The unsub’s eyes were wild, darting between you and Emily. He clutched a knife in his free hand, the blade trembling as much as his fingers. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m saving him.”

“Saving him from what?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. “He needs his family. Whatever you think you’re doing, this isn’t the way to help.”

The unsub shook his head violently. “No one cared about me! No one ever cared! They won’t care about him either!”

Emily took a slow, careful step forward, her gun still trained on the man. “George, listen to me. You’re scared, and you’re hurting, but this isn’t the answer. Look at him—he’s just a child. You can’t make him go through what you did.”

For a moment, something flickered in George’s eyes—hesitation, maybe even regret. His grip on the knife faltered, his hand trembling. But then, in an instant, he pulled the boy closer, the blade pressing against the child’s neck.

“Stay back!” George screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this!”

Your heart raced as you saw the terror in the boy’s eyes. Emily’s voice remained steady, though you could hear the edge of desperation in it. “You don’t have to do this, George. Put the knife down, and we’ll talk. No one else has to get hurt.”

The standoff stretched into agonizing seconds, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to move. You caught Emily’s eye, and she gave the slightest nod—silent confirmation of the plan forming between you.

In a swift motion, Emily fired, her shot hitting George’s shoulder with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered to the floor as George cried out in pain, his grip on the boy loosening. You didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and pulling the child into your arms, shielding him as Emily rushed to subdue the unsub.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to the boy, your voice gentle as you held him close. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

The boy clung to you, his small hands gripping your shirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. You crouched on the floor with him, your body positioned protectively between him and the rest of the room.

Emily secured George with practiced efficiency, her jaw tight as she snapped the handcuffs into place. She glanced over at you and the boy, her expression softening ever so slightly when she saw you murmuring reassurances to him.

The rest of the team arrived moments later, the tension in the room finally breaking as Hotch and Morgan took over. Emily walked over to you, crouching beside you and the boy.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the authority she’d wielded moments ago. “You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy hiccupped through his tears. “E-Evan,” he managed.

Emily smiled gently. “Evan, you’re so brave. We’re going to take you home, okay?”

He nodded, his grip on you loosening just enough for Emily to brush a comforting hand over his back.

As the team began to clear the scene and escort George out, you stayed with Evan, his small frame still trembling against yours. Emily stood, giving you a brief but meaningful look before stepping away to help the others.

You held Evan a little tighter, feeling the weight of his fear and relief as if it were your own. In that moment, nothing else mattered but making sure he felt safe.

The boy, Evan, was safely in the hands of the paramedics now, his sobs slowly subsiding as he clung to one of the responders. The team had the unsub secured, and the farmhouse was already being cleared. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as you watched them lead Evan to safety, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Good job, everyone,” Hotch said, his voice steady, even in the aftermath. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The drive back home was quiet, the weight of the case still hanging heavy in the air. You sat beside Emily, your fingers brushing occasionally, the small touches speaking volumes. She was focused on the road, her jaw tense, but you could see the weariness in her eyes. You didn’t speak, neither of you needed to, but your proximity was a comfort—a grounding force amid the chaos of the case.

By the time you made it to your shared apartment, the evening had settled into a quiet calm, but the emotions of the day were far from gone. You both stepped out of the SUV, the cool night air feeling sharper now as it hit your skin. Without a word, you walked side by side into the building, up to your apartment, and inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and just like that, the quiet of the apartment surrounded you both, cutting through the exhaustion that clung to your bones.

Emily didn’t say anything. She simply kicked off her shoes, then reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her arms were strong, but there was something softer about this moment—more raw than you’d seen in her before. It was as if she couldn’t bear to let go of you, even for a second.

Then she leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek. Her kiss took you by surprise—intimate and urgent. It was as if she was trying to erase the horror of the day with the press of her lips to yours. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Instead, you melted into it, letting the heat of her touch seep into your very soul.

Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Your hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. It was a kiss filled with fear and anger, but also with a fierce love and a need to be connected—to be human.

Without breaking away, you both stumbled into the bedroom. The door clicked shut, cutting off the outside world, leaving just the two of you. You didn’t bother with the lights, the moon casting enough of a glow through the windows to navigate the room. Her hands were everywhere—on your neck, your back, sliding down to your ass—and you could feel the urgency in every touch, as if she was trying to claim you as her own.

Emily’s strength was surprising as she hoisted you onto the bed. You felt your breath hitch as she looked down at you, a wild hunger burning in her gaze. You could see the need etched on her features, the same need echoing in your own chest. It was raw, animalistic, and you craved it like a drug.

Her hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. Each button released cool air against your skin, causing goosebumps to break out. She took her time, kissing each inch of exposed flesh as if she were worshipping it, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The fabric parted to reveal your bra, and she took a moment to simply look at you, her eyes darkening with desire.

Emily’s fingertips danced along the lace, tracing the edge of your bra before gently pushing the fabric up to reveal your breasts. She took one nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it in a slow, tantalizing dance that had you arching off the bed. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. Her other hand found its way to your waistband, and she began to unbuckle your belt with an agonizing slowness that made you want to scream in frustration.

Her kisses travelled down your torso, each one more urgent than the last. She kissed your stomach, her breath tickling the sensitive skin, and you felt your abs clench in anticipation. As she reached the button of your pants, she paused, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded, giving her the silent go-ahead, your body aching for her touch.

Your pants fell away, revealing the simple cotton panties that were already damp with need. Emily’s gaze was intense, her pupils dilated with desire. Her hand reached out, tracing the waistband of your underwear with the back of her fingers before she hooked them and slowly began to pull them down.

Her eyes were focused as the fabric slid over your hips, exposing the wetness that had gathered between your legs. You watched her face, the hunger in her expression unmistakable. It sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of desire and power, knowing you could do this to her.

Emily’s fingertips brushed over your inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. You spread your legs wider, silently begging for her touch. She didn’t make you wait long. With a soft, almost reverent sigh, she reached down and parted your folds with the tips of her fingers. You gasped as she touched you, the sensation of her skin against yours sending heat through your core.

Her touch was gentle at first—exploratory. She traced the length of your slit, her fingertips slipping through your slickness and circling your clit with maddening precision. Your hips rocked upward, seeking more pressure, but she took her time, her eyes studying your reactions. Each touch was calculated, a silent exploration of what you liked, what you needed.

Then, her fingers entered you, sliding in smoothly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as she began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had you panting. Her thumb found your clit, stroking it in time with the movement of her fingers. It was a sweet agony, the anticipation of what was to come building with every second that passed.

She brought her mouth to your pussy, her tongue swiping over your clit with a gentle touch that had you trembling. She took her time, savouring every part of you, and when she finally closed her lips around the sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back the gasp.

Her suckling grew more intense, each pull sending shockwaves through your body. Her teeth grazed you gently, not quite biting, but adding an edge to the pleasure that had you digging your nails into the bedspread. Emily’s hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as she explored your depths, her fingers moving in tandem with her mouth.

As the tension grew, you felt your body begin to quiver. You reached down to stroke her hair, needing to feel connected to her in every way possible. She took your cue, increasing her pace, her tongue flicking against your clit with a rhythm that had your toes curling. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing through the room.

Emily’s own need was palpable. You could see it in the way her hips began to rock back and forth, grinding her core against the edge of the bed. She was so focused on bringing you pleasure that she forgot about herself. But you weren’t going to let that happen.

With trembling hands, you reached down and pulled Emily up onto the bed. Her body was a warm, solid weight against you. You both needed this—needed to feel each other, needed to be close.

You began to kiss her again, but this time, you were the one in charge. Your hands moved to her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her bare skin to the cool air. Her bra followed, and you took a moment to just look at her—her perfect breasts, the rosy tips of her nipples standing at attention.

Your tongue darted out, tracing the outline of one erect peak before closing your mouth around it. Emily gasped, her head falling back, and you took advantage, sucking gently as you teased the sensitive flesh. You felt her hands in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she pulled you closer, her hips bucking against you.

Your hands moved to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds before squeezing them firmly. Your thumbs flicked over the tightened buds, eliciting whimpers that only spurred you on. You could feel her nipples pebbled against your palms, the sensation sending jolts of desire straight to your own core. Emily’s breath grew shallower, her body arching towards you as you played her like an instrument.

With a sudden, urgent need to feel all of her, you slid your hand down her stomach, over the waistband of her pants. Your fingers worked the button and zipper with surprising dexterity, given how much your own hands were shaking. You pushed the fabric down, her underwear following, revealing her bare sex.

Emily’s thighs parted slightly, an unspoken invitation that you couldn’t resist. You gripped her thighs firmly, spreading her wider as you leaned in to taste her. Your tongue darted out, lapping up the wetness that had pooled at her entrance.

Her hips jerked in response, a soft whine escaping her as you found her clit, swollen and begging for attention. You took it into your mouth, sucking gently before swirling your tongue around it, feeling it pulse against you. Her legs quivered around your head, and you knew you had her exactly where you wanted her.

Your fingers slid into her, curling slightly to hit that spot inside that always made her moan. The sound was music to your ears, a symphony of need and desire that had you pressing harder, moving faster. Emily’s breath was coming in short gasps now, her body tightening with every stroke.

The two of you were a captivating mess—half-clothed and carelessly undone, tangled together on the bed in a chaotic, feverish embrace, completely consumed by desire. Emily’s eyes never left yours as you pleasured her, her gaze a blend of passion and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps, for this brief reprieve from the horrors of the case.

Her hips rolled against your mouth, and you knew she was close. You doubled your efforts, desperate to make her cum, to show her that amidst the chaos, she was cherished, loved. You added a second finger, curling them inside her in a come-hither motion that had her back bowing off the bed.

Emily’s breath grew ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered your name. You could feel her body tighten around your fingers, her muscles clenching as the first waves of her orgasm began to crash over her. You didn’t let up, your mouth working her clit, your other hand sliding up to pinch her nipple, twisting just enough to send sparks of painful pleasure shooting through her.

“Cum for me, Em,” you murmured against her folds, the vibration of your voice sending another tremor through her body. “Let go, baby.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and you could see the need there, the desperation in her gaze. You didn’t stop your relentless rhythm, didn’t ease up on her clit. You needed her to release, to feel the shattering pleasure that you knew was just out of reach.

Then, you began to hum—a low, steady vibration that resonated against her sensitive flesh. It was all it took. Her body went rigid, and then she was cumming, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. Her cries filled the room, her hips jerking wildly against your face as you held her through it, her muscles pulsing around your fingers.

It was a beautiful sight—Emily’s release, raw and unbridled. You felt a sense of accomplishment, a fierce satisfaction at being the one to give it to her. But even as the first orgasm subsided, you didn’t stop. You knew her body, knew that with the right touches, you could coax more from her.

Your tongue remained on her clit, flicking gently through the aftershocks. Emily’s hips rolled, and you knew she was trying to pull away, to catch her breath, but you held her firm, keeping the pressure steady. It didn’t take much—just a few more strokes before she was gasping again, her body responding to your relentless pursuit of her pleasure.

Her second orgasm hit her like a surprise attack, stealing the breath from her lungs. She bucked against you, her pussy fluttering around your fingers. You groaned against her, the vibration of your voice sending another jolt through her.

Emily’s hands were in your hair now, her nails scraping at your scalp, holding you in place. You felt the tension in her thighs as she rode the waves of pleasure, her breath coming in panting gasps. You didn’t let up, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to milk every last drop of ecstasy from her trembling body.

As the second orgasm began to subside, you slowly pulled back, kissing your way up her body. You could feel her pulse beneath your lips, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. You looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a desperate hunger that mirrored your own.

Without a word, she rolled you over, her body straddling yours. Her hands found your face, pulling it closer until your mouths collided in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. She kissed you as if she were trying to consume you, her tongue delving into your mouth with an urgency that was almost desperate.

Emily’s hips began to move, grinding into yours with a rhythm that was both seductive and demanding. You could feel the heat of her core against yours, the wetness of her desire coating your skin. Your own need grew, your body responding instinctively to the pressure of hers.

Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, aligning your bodies so that your clits met. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through your core. You moaned into her mouth, your legs locking together as you began to rock back and forth.

The wet sound of skin against skin grew louder, punctuating the air with each movement. Your hips rolled together in a sensual dance, the friction building between you. The pressure was exquisite, the feeling of her body against yours setting off sparks that threatened to ignite a wildfire.

You wrapped your arms around her, your hands finding purchase on her toned back as she ground into you. Your own hips met hers thrust for thrust, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. The scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a musky perfume that was intoxicating.

Her hips picked up speed, the friction between you growing more intense. You could feel the slickness of your desire as it coated your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed this release. Emily’s breath was hot against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she nipped and kissed her way down to your collarbone.

You both were so wet, the sound of your bodies sliding against each other filled the room. Your clits swollen and sensitive, the constant pressure sending waves of pleasure through your bodies. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her breasts pressing into yours.

Emily’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly as she ground her hips into yours. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every movement. Your own hips matched hers, the rhythm becoming more frenzied as you both chased the peak of your climax.

“You’re so wet for me, sweet girl,” she murmured against your neck, her voice a low growl of approval. The words sent a shiver of submission that you had desperately craved. You arched into her touch, your body begging for more.

Emily’s kiss grew more demanding, her tongue delving into your mouth as if she could taste your need. You could feel the tremble in her own body, the aftershocks of her recent orgasm still resonating through her. But she wasn’t done with you yet.

With a sudden shift, she pulled away, her eyes dark with intent. “Be a good girl and make me cum one more time,” she breathed, the words sending a new wave of lust through you. You nodded, eager to give her what she wanted, eager to feel her come apart in your arms again.

“I plan on getting my strap out and breeding you tonight, sweetheart,” Emily whispered in your ear, the promise of dominance in her voice sending a thrill through you. Your eyes widened at her words, the excitement of the turn in your intimate moment making your heart race.

With a sudden surge of need, your hips bucked against hers, your body desperately seeking the release that was just out of reach. Emily’s eyes lit up with approval, her grip on you tightening as she held you in place. “Looks like you want it as badly as I do,” she said with a smirk, her voice low and husky with desire.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as you felt the pressure building again. Emily’s own hips began to rock, her movements more deliberate and forceful as she matched your rhythm. The feeling of her clit grinding against yours was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel the heat from her core, the wetness of her desire, and it only made you want more.

The sound of her moans grew louder, filling the room. They were sweet and needy, urging you to give her what she craved. You responded in kind, your own sounds of pleasure mingling with hers. Each gasp, each whimper was a symphony of desire that spurred you onward.

Her hips rocked faster, the slickness of your arousal making it easier for her to glide against you. You could feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, your legs trembling with the effort to keep up. Your body was a live wire, ready to snap at any moment.

Emily’s moans grew louder, the sound of her pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your own release. Your own breath came in pants and gasps, your nails digging into the flesh of her back as you held on for dear life. You felt her get wetter, her movements growing more erratic as she approached climax.

“Cum for me, Emily, please,” you begged, the words spilling from your mouth like a prayer. The need to hear her fall apart, to feel her body convulse with pleasure was overwhelming. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut, and you knew she was close.

With a few hard, desperate thrusts, you pushed against her, the friction between your bodies reaching a fever pitch. Emily’s hips stuttered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, she was there—her body tightening against yours, her cries filling the room as she shuddered with release.

The moment she came, you felt it—a rush of wetness that soaked the sheets beneath you. You couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, your own climax just a breath away. Emily’s eyes snapped open, and she stared down at you with a fierce hunger.

Then, she broke away, reaching for the bedside drawer. You watched as she pulled out a harness and a silicone dildo. The sight of it sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and trepidation. She looked into your eyes, her own alight with something primal.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Emily growls. It was a dark promise, a fantasy that sent a shiver down your spine. The words alone were enough to make your pussy throb with anticipation.

The harness was strapped around her hips, the dildo jutting out like an extension of her. She leaned over you, the tip brushing against your wetness, and you felt your body respond instinctively, your hips rising to meet it.

Emily took hold of your hips, her grip firm and commanding. You watched as she positioned the toy at your entrance. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, she plunged into your wet heat.

You cried out in pleasure, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you as she claimed you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you couldn’t help but let your head fall back into the pillow, your body arching up to meet her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and her growls of effort.

Emily’s eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze making your heart race. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “You’re going to carry my baby.”

The words hung in the air, coloured with desire and dominance. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself nodding, eager to submit to her every whim. The thought of being filled by her, of carrying a piece of her inside you, was intoxicating.

“Yes, Em,” you babbled out, your voice trembling with need. “I want it—please, take me, make me yours. I want to be filled with you, to carry your baby. Make me feel it, all of it. Don’t stop.”

Emily’s eyes blazed with desire, her pupils blown out. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against yours, and whispered, “You’re going to be so full, my love. Everyone will know you’re mine, that you’re carrying my child.”

With that, she began to move in earnest, setting a steady pace that had you whimpering. Each thrust filled you completely, the girth of the toy stretching your walls and hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl. Your hands clutched at her shoulders, your nails digging in as you tried to keep up with the sensations that were crashing over you like waves.

Her hips moved in a relentless rhythm, the dildo sliding in and out of you with ease. The room was filled with the sounds of your muffled cries and the slick sound of her movements. You could feel yourself building, your body responding to the eroticism of her words and actions.

Emily lifted one of your legs, changing the angle and hitting you deeper, harder. The sudden shift in sensation had you crying out, your hand flying to cover your mouth to keep the noise from escaping. Your eyes watered as she stared down at you, her expression one of pure determination.

Then, she grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly firm, and pulled your hand away from your mouth. "Don't you dare stifle those pretty little sounds," she demanded, a dark smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I want the neighbours to hear how good I’m making you feel," Emily growled, the feral sound sending a shiver down your spine. She pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, the force of her thrust making the bed frame shake. Your moan was loud, echoing through the apartment, and you felt a thrill knowing that anyone close by could hear the unmistakable sounds of your passion.

Her hips picked up speed, the slap of her thighs against yours growing louder. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself letting go, moaning louder and louder, the sounds bouncing off the walls.

Emily’s grip on your hips tightened as she pulled you down onto her silicone cock, the friction building between your bodies. She was relentless, her movements powerful and possessive. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the sound of your slickness mingling with your cries of pleasure.

Her other hand found its way to your throat, not squeezing but rather holding you in place as she claimed you. The dominance was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, your body begging for more.

As Emily’s strokes grew more intense, so did her words, whispered into your ear like dark promises. "You’re going to carry my baby," she repeated, her voice a mix of a command and a desperate plea. "You’re going to be so full of me, so ripe with life."

The thought sent you spiralling, your body responding in kind. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core tightening with each thrust. "Yes, Emily," you moaned, your voice breaking. "I want it—want to be filled with you, to carry your baby."

Her eyes lit up with triumph at your words, her movements growing even more frenzied. She leaned down, her teeth grazing your neck as she whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" It was a question, but there was no doubt in her tone.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure mounted, threatening to overwhelm you. Emily's grip on your throat tightened slightly, a silent command to look at her as she took you over the edge. Your eyes widened as your climax approached your body tightening around the silicone cock.

"Emily, please," you managed to choke out, the desperation in your voice clear. "I need to feel you cum in me."

Her eyes darkened at the words, and she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin. "You want it that badly?" she whispered, her hips grinding into you.

You could only nod, the anticipation of her release almost too much to bear. Emily’s eyes searched yours, a silent question before she leaned down and whispered, "You’re going to feel every drop of me filling you up, baby. You’re going to be so full."

Her words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm was intense, your vision swimming with stars as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel Emily’s own excitement in her tightened grip, her hips moving faster as she watched you come apart beneath her. It was as if your pleasure fuelled hers, her thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

As your climax subsided, she leaned in to kiss you, her breath ragged and her eyes bright with desire. But she didn’t stop moving, the toy still buried deep inside you. The feeling of fullness remained, a delicious reminder of your shared fantasy.

Emily’s kisses grew more tender, her movements slowing to a gentle rocking that kept the pleasure simmering without letting it boil over again. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every sensation, making you feel cherished and owned. It was a tender domination that made you melt into the mattress beneath her.

With surprising grace, she shifted your positions so that you were both laying on your sides, the silicone cock still buried deep within you. Your legs tangled together, her hand still resting on your throat, but now with a gentle, soothing pressure that was a contrast to the intensity of moments ago. Her thumb brushed your jawline, turning your face towards her, her eyes searching yours.

Then, she leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was a kiss filled with everything unsaid, everything felt but not voiced. Her tongue danced with yours, a dance that was both sweet and demanding.

The kiss lingered, slower now but just as intense, a way to ground yourselves after the chaos of the case. Emily’s hands slid over your back, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into her, feeling the tension in your body finally ease. The weight of everything—the long hours, the children’s faces, the endless cycle of chasing darkness—seemed to lift with each shared breath.

When the high broke, it was like coming up for air after being submerged for too long. Both of you stilled, breathless and spent, bodies still tangled together as the energy between you shifted into something gentler, softer. Emily rested her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, as though letting go might bring the world crashing back in. Her fingers moved absently along your skin, a grounding motion more for her than for you.

You turned slightly to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her dark eyes met yours, no longer guarded. There was a softness in her expression she rarely let anyone see—a vulnerability reserved for you alone. It was a part of Emily she kept locked away, buried beneath layers of composure and strength, but here, in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, she let you see it.

“I needed that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her exhaustion. “I needed you.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in her words, and you reached out, running a hand along her arm. “I’m here,” you said simply but with conviction. “I’m always here, Emily.”

She sighed, her body sinking further against yours as though your words had given her permission to let go. “It’s just… too much sometimes,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “The cases, the victims, the choices we have to make. I keep it together out there, but when it’s over, it feels like it’s all going to crush me.”

Your chest tightened at her admission. Emily rarely talked about the toll the job took on her—not with anyone else, not even with the team. But with you, she let the walls come down, piece by piece. You cupped her face gently, guiding her to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t have to crush you,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help. Lean on me, Emily. Please.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might push back, but then her face crumpled just slightly, and she nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “You’re the only one I can… let this out with.”

“You won’t have to find out,” you assured her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Emily’s hand settled on your hip, her thumb brushing lazily against your skin. The tension that had held her body rigid for hours finally began to ebb. She exhaled slowly, her breath warm against your neck, as though releasing the weight she had carried all day.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing. The case, the emotions, the burden of it all—it wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now. You could feel it in the way her body relaxed against yours, the way her hand stopped fidgeting and simply rested on you, the way her breathing evened out.

You pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as she held you, grounding her in the present. “You’re safe,” you murmured softly. “We’re safe. Just us.”

Emily lifted her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours again. The gratitude in her expression was so raw, so unguarded, it made your breath catch. She leaned in and kissed you again—not out of passion, but something deeper. It was a kiss of trust, of love, of everything she couldn’t quite put into words but poured into you all the same.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her fingers tangling with yours. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “This is what we do for each other. I’m here, Emily. I always will be.”

She smiled faintly, the first genuine smile you’d seen from her since the case had started. “I’m holding you to that.”

“You should,” you teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from her. It was quiet, but it was real, and it was everything.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. No barriers, no walls, just the safety of knowing you didn’t have to face the world alone. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[celestie0]

Hey!! Do you have any ihm headcanons for gojo and y/n?

I honestly love them both so much especially reader. Your writing is amazing

suuure!! i mean they're not like officially in a relationship yet so these will just be kinda random facts about them i supposeee, some separate and some together :0 but i hope they're still interesting haha <33

in holy matriphony headcanons

ᰔ note. for anyone new here, these headcanons are based off of my gojo x reader long fic series called "in holy matriphony"!! header art by @/3-aem

ihm!gojo woodworks in his free time. he’s building a coffee table right now. he passed out in his workshop last weekend because he accidentally inhaled too many wood stain fumes

ihm!gojo already has a college fund set up for his future kids (he started it when he was 26 lmfao)

ihm!gojo on that note is veeery financially responsible (unlike ihm reader hahaha)

ihm!reader only chose nursing for her post undergrad plans because she dressed up as a nurse once for halloween and it drove choso crazy and that’s basically what she ended up rolling with for the rest of her professional career 👍🏼 (a questionable yet relatable decision)

ihm!gojo’s ex-wife, who shall still remain mostly a mystery, is actually someone he’s known since he was four years old (childhood friends to lovers type beat)

ihm!gojo’s favorite weekend pass times are hanging out with juno, taking his boat out to the lake, and watching SNL

ihm!reader secretly really wants to go for a ride on the lake on ihm!gojo’s boat but she’s spent so much time yelling at him for parking it halfway across her driveway curb that she feels like asking would be damage to her ego

ihm!gojo & ihm!reader were actually veeeeeery civil with one another when they first met, like very sweet neighbors, but then obviously things became sour down the line haha

ihm!gojo eats a generally pretty clean diet other than the occasional takeout on a friday. he PIGS out when he’s sold a house though. also, he’s a massive slut for home baked goods especially if they were made just for him. one time juno brought him a plate of (very burnt) chocolate chip cookies and he damn near cried (it’s the thought that counts)

ihm!gojo became a real estate agent fresh out of college but his actual major in college was entirely unrelated to marketing, sales, or business (shall be revealed later) 

ihm!reader was voted prom queen not once but twice when she was in high school and she believes that’s when she peaked in life

ihm!gojo gets sent on business trips to foreign countries pretty often by his brokerage firm to assess new housing markets and he always tries to bring back souvenirs for everyone in the neighborhood (except reader because he once brought her a stuffed animal from the airport in taiwan but he saw her throw it away in her garbage bin on trash day :( …she’s so mean sometimes)

whenever ihm!gojo & ihm!reader have arguments over things, they always vent about it to their neighbors in passing, and reader gets so pissed off when neighbors take gojo’s side because she’s literally lived there her whole life and yet they have the audacity to advocate for HIM

ihm!reader holds a lot of resentment towards her father because he was a heavy smoker for the entirety of his marriage to her mom, and so she suspects the reason her mother has cancer in the first place is because of the secondhand smoke 

ihm!gojo is obsessed with avocados. he eats avocado toast everyday. and he makes a meaaaaannn bowl of guac. he only has one avocado tree in his backyard right now but he would like to have a whole farm of them someday

ihm!gojo is really social, he loooves to talk to people and get to know them and ask them for their whole life story even if he just met them like two minutes ago lol, but his actual close knit  group of friends is only like 3-4ish guys

ihm!gojo gets frequently invited to his clients’ dinner parties, christmas parties, thanksgiving meals, kids birthday parties etc lmfaooo but he often has to politely decline

ihm!reader’s doctor is very concerned for her symptoms of insomnia (due to her abnormal sleeping schedule from nights shifts) because she already has risk factors for alzheimer's from her mother and insomnia only increases that risk

ihm!reader’s favorite store ever is costco. she wants her ashes to be spread across a costco parking lot

a/n. hope u enjoyed :0 much love!!

[voidpacifist]

viktor headcanons

[modern-ish edition + meljayvik because I cannot resist, also I'm desperate to see more unhinged little ideas about him outside of being everyone's favorite blorbo. we should fear that man and this is my thesis]

learned a weird amalgamation of martial arts and self defense as a kid due to growing up in zaun. despite being in what was considered the "safer" part of the underground, his mother worried he wouldn't be safe on his own. his core strength and arm strength are absolutely ridiculous

in fact, one time he was hooking up with a fellow academy student, and by the time the whole affair was over with, he was hardly breaking a sweat while the other person was trying to catch their breath. he became somewhat of a local legend at frat parties because not only can he wear someone out for hours but, allegedly, he's real freaky with it too

knows the exact monetary value of different human body organs on the black market. whether or not this is from experience is something jayce and mel are unable to determine. vi is also knowledgeable of this and has traded tragic backstories with him in detail

has had to kill a man before, and tells this to jayce frequently to win petty arguments (jayce never actually believes him, even though it is fully and one hundred percent true). it doesn't work on mel

jayce and mel have a secret chart written of how many substances viktor has tried and with how much frequency. weed is at the top of the list, with alcohol being shockingly low. in spite of coming from a slavic background, viktor didn't learn how to hold very much liquor without feeling ill, but for some reason is fine with the illicit psychedelics that grow naturally in the undercity near the runoff tunnels. so far the list is nearly half a page long

will not hit anyone with his mobility aids but will ABSOLUTELY find ways to blackmail and hustle his way out of embarrassment. he learned the blackmailing skill from mel, and frequently looks to her for information since she somehow knows the most about the student body

extremely morbid sense of humor. jokes about being fatherless/motherless behavior and then hits you with, "I would know :]." mel is an honorary member of the motherless behavior banter, considering her own mother disowned her shortly before she came to piltover

taking care of one another is equal parts give and take with him, jayce, and mel, but it's never in a way that demeans each other or exploits each other's weaknesses. for example, viktor hates being carried or manhandled without consent and finds it incredibly patronizing if someone assumes he needs help without just asking him (common sense, but the student body is full of ableist sharks). if he's having a bad pain day or is finding it hard to move, he and jayce (or he and mel, depending on time and place) have a system for getting him to or from somewhere without drawing much attention and even have specific "I need help but don't want to be stared at about it" phrases

father's half of the family is slavic and mother's half of the family is romani. cannot follow a recipe unless it has specific measurements, but can improvise ANY stew or potato based dish with little more than his nose and a few kitchen tools. jayce can improvise any dish, but will always somehow overdo the spice if it calls for spice. mel is happy to try any and everything they make (on her birthday, she's spoiled with their attempts at making the ethnic food from her family, and she'll never tell them but she's very touched by their efforts)

owned ONE pet in his life and it was a hamster. instead of freaking out over it's death, he studied it's body post mortem until his father declared it a biohazard and forced him to dispose of it

learned most of his chemists knowledge from a disgraced former academy professor, but taught himself everything else he knows (if he couldn't get access to it in school). including, for fun, how to preserve and analyze body parts. he initially wanted to be a surgeon or biomedical engineer, but then stuck with chemistry (specifically regarding infectious diseases) to try and find a cure for the grey

shows up randomly at jayces or mels dorms at strange hours in the evening/morning. the first time he showed up at mel's, she thought a burglary was being attempted. he made it out with a bad knock to the head, but she did make him tea in the aftermath as an apology (he hated it but drank the whole thing anyway)

gets stoned with jinx on the weekends, since she's the only one who can find him good, ethically sourced weed. he pays her back by teaching her things he's learning and researching at the academy

meljayvik + caitvi + timebomb dates but they have to find a way to rent out the whole place because each and every one of them has Some Kind of History with the other academy students even though jinx and ekko are still a couple years shy of college age

viktor threw up at the distinguished innovators competition because jayce did first. it was a whole disaster. they spent hours after the ordeal hyping each other up on gatorade and pure adrenaline. it was the physically worst jayce has ever felt around viktor but far from the worst viktor has ever felt around jayce. this was just days after the two of them met mel, and she spent the rest of the evening forcing them to sleep or eat something that wasn't "pure chemicals." somehow, this ended in a heated debate between herself and viktor about the validity of gatorade as a substantial meal. he still refuses to admit he lost

I've said this before and I'll say it again: he has a closet full of ramen. mel takes from his stash often

can run on caffeine and very little sleep to the point where he is physically incapable of resting like a normal human being without feeling drained. flu season is absolute hell

showed up to one of his lectures shirtless once because he was in a hurry. fed everyone who looked at him funny the most outrageous sob story about how "weak" he was, then laughed about it with mel and jayce like an absolute sociopath for days about it. jayce did not find it altogether very funny. mel and him still joke about it

beat vi in an arm wrestling contest before he got sick. still almost beat her after his diagnosis too, but still took the betting money anyway. she'll never admit she's slightly terrified of him, but it shows

can wield many different kinds of knives but is terribly clumsy when it comes to other weapons like clubs and swords and staffs. tapped out of adaptive sports within his first week because it was "boring him." spent the next month teaching martial arts to his fellow disabled peers until the board made it an official extracurricular

turned sky down in the nicest but most insane way possible. nobody knows what happened or how, just that they ended up spending MORE time together after the fact and that it involved illicit activities. the rumors were insufferable for weeks. and wildly funny

(please feel free to add more, I'm gonna start a collection)

[sofiafantasies]

Imagine: Jack seeing you for the first time but you can’t see him

Disclaimer; This is inspired by @cutiepieloves131

It had been three years since Jack became a guardian. And he had to admit, it was fun. Ironically enough he was the guardian of fun. But the spirit of winter.

He spreaded snow and frost everywhere. From France to the small town of Burgess. At first, it was strange to be a guardian, helping children, and being seen.

Usually, children were the only ones who could see him. Well, children who bealived in him. Which weren't a lot. But as the years went by a lot more came. And he got a decent amount of believers.

It was very strange. He would just be walking by making it snow and children would come up to him. It was surprising but he got used to it.

He would fly over the world when he didn't have to bring winter. But when he was, he's favorite place to finish is at Burgess. That's Jamie's town. Jamie is the first boy who ever bealived in Jack.

Burgess has a very special place in his heart. And so is Jamie. But while he is out flying around the world he encounters many strange people, that can't see him. Last time he "meet" a young female.

Jack was in Burgess bringing snow and fun like usual. That was his last stop for the day. He was done and all the kids were out playing. He was going to leave but then Cupcake came running out of her home.

"Guys! You won't believe it!" She ran to her friends. And Jack was just close enough to hear. He turned around to see the little ball of sunshine. "What is it, Cupcake?" Pippa asked.

"My sister is coming back from collage!" Cupcake jumped up and down. "Wait. Y/n is coming back?" Jamie asked excited like everyone else. Jack confused flew to them. "Who's Y/n?" He asked.

"Cupcake's older sister." Jamie answered. "Yes, she's the best!" Caleb said as his twin brother agreed, "Yeah, she is!" They high five each other.

"She is the coolest!" Monty said excitedly as he fixed his glasses. "Coolest?" Jack mouthed out. "Remember when we had that massive snowball fight?" Claude asked as he made a snowball and threw it at Caleb who dogged.

"Yeah, she was the best at that!" Caleb agreed. "The best?" Jack mummered. "Ooh, and on my birthday she made the biggest party ever!" Pippa jumped up and down. "She was awesome!" Monty exclaimed.

"Awsome?" Jack whispered. "Uh, were is she, exactly?" Jack said as he leaned on his woden staff. "She's on her way here!" Cupcake yelled. "When is she getting here?" Jamie asked.

Jack chuckled at their excitement. "I'm not so sure." Cupcake shrugged. While they all told Jack how awesome and generous Y/n was they didn't know you had arrived.

"Mom! Dad!" You ran to them and hugged them both. Tears where shead. Blah, blah, blah. "Where's Cupcake?" You asked. "Oh, she's with Jamie and the others." Your mother said whipping her tears.

You lowly gasped with excitement and with one last hug you ran to find her. "Cupcake!" You called as you walked along the frozen path. Almost slipping. But you grabbed onto a ralling for bikes.

You sighed and carefully walked along the path. "Cupcake!" You yelled again. This time you were somewhere near Jamie's house and near the lake. "Uh, Jamie!?" You called.

"Ugh, come back from collage to a very warm welcome." You mocked. "Cupcake!!" You yelled louder. "Y/N!!" Cupcake and her friends ran to you. "Oh!" You feel backwards due to the force.

"Hi, guys!" You greeted as you hugged them all. They all bombarded you with questions as you stood up. Cupcake was clinging to your leg which you honestly didn't mind. You knew how much she missed you.

"Woah, woah! Calm down. One at a time, please." You laughed with them. But as you answered their questions Jack flew near you. He observed your features.

How your E/c eyes glimmering in the sun. How your S/c skin suited you well. The way your H/c colered hair framed your face perfectly. How soft your L/c lips looked.

He could tell you where a kind person by the way you interacted with the kids. "It's nice to see you all. But it's getting late shouldn't you guys be heading home?" You asked. Cupcake had finally let go of your leg.

"Oh, right!" Pippa realized. "Will we see you tomorrow?" Monty asked. "You bet!" The kids all cheered. "Come on, Cupcake. Say bye." You told your sister as you started to walk away.

"Bye!" All the kids said to each other and they all went home. "I have so much to tell you!" Cupcake said to you. "Oh, well I would love to hear it all."

Jack being the curious and mischievous guy he is decided to follow you two. He wanted to know you. Maybe even have you see him. He knew you couldn't. But that didn't stop him from trying.

"I have this cool story to tell you. It was awesome!" Cupcake beamed. "Alright. How about you wait 'till we get home. Yeah?" You asked as you glanced down at her. "Okay!" You giggled as she skipped home.

Feeling a cold but gentle breeze you smiled. You loved winter. Sure it was cold but it was fun. A small snowflake fell infront of you. Bringing your hand up the snowflake landed on your palm.

You giggled at the cold feeling. You smiled softly as it started to snow more. "It's snowing!" Cupcake said as she tried to capture snowflakes with her tounge.

"Winter. So lovely." You whispered. Cupcake was a few feet away from you and Jack was right next to you. "It is, ain't it?" Jack asked even though he knew you won't respond.

"How I whish I could just..control it." This peaked Jack's interest. "How so?" He asked. "Imagine me..able to bring winter anywhere, anytime, whenever." You giggled. Watching the snowflakes fall into your palm you felt happy.

Happy to be home. "Well, snowflake, you'll be happy to know, I already do that." Jack informed. You giggled and shoock your head. "Talking to myself. Gotta stop doing that."

You looked straight ahead and saw that Cupcake was further away. "Hey, Cupcake! Wait up!" You ran to her. Jack chuckled at you and looked back but decided to follow you.

[cute-sucker]

birthday boy

[30.3.2024]

note: haha once again this is so self indulgent, but i love it so much so like >>> (please let me know if y'all want a party 2) words: 2k warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, angst :)

"hey! [name], come 'ere!" a voice yelled after you.

you were putting on your lipgloss, lips puckered and shiny. 

you knew exactly who it was, but you chugged your drink and then kept walking even as you heard the light footsteps of a teenage boy. you couldn't help but roll your eyes, infuriated at the only one and only rafe. 

"i'm not your lap dog, rafe!" you said through gritted teeth, as he reached you. finally, you turned and stopped to see rafe's arrogant face. 

he glanced at your face, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. 

it was the bonfire at kildare. the one place where kooks and pogues went to party all night. of course rafe was here, and you were there to have fun and get loose and if he created some sort of problem for you, you'd sack him in the eye. maybe a blossoming blue bruise would look great on his 'perfectly,' simetral face. your brother had taught you to defend yourself in the summer, and you wondered what your nasty hook would do to hid face. 

"make it snappy," you said glaring at him. he looked unfazed, smirking. 

"as lovely as always, aren't you?" he flirted, leaning against the wall. the expensive watch on his wrist glinted in the light. 

"speak." 

finally, he gave up sighing dramatically, looking as if he was going to fess up. though he looked incredibly cocky. 

"come to my birthday party. it's on the 19th" he told you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. the nerve he had! 

you groaned, "no." 

surprise flashed across his face, and then something like challenge flickered in his eyes. 

"but i'm a very good boy," he pouted. 

"could you kindly fuck off?" then you turned around, strutting to your friends. you wanted to say you weren't blushing, as your heart stuttered violently at his voice. 

rafe would be the end of you. 

10 years ago. 

"rafe! where are you?" you called, your 8 year voice squeaking with fear. you felt frantic, your small thudding. rafe and you were inseparable, and in that same fashion you had made him a hand turkey and he hung in his cubby. 

that was true friendship. 

and now he was gone. 

"[name]?" a small voice called. it was rafe hiding near the bushes. 

you ran as fast as your tiny legs could carry you. rafe eyes were pink from crying, and you felt yourself tearing up, as your hands trembled. 

"rafe? what happened?" you asked gasping. he was crouching, his little hands red. 

now he peered up at you with watering eyes. 

"i fell." 

the red welts on his hands and knees bled so properly you cried out in fear. 

"c'mon let's go to ms. asha!" you yelled and held out your sticky hand. he took it, and the two of you hobbled away. 

when you reached your teacher, rafe told her all about your help. he smiled at you, as you found yourself blushing.

"a sticker for your bravery," ms. asha fussed, giving you and rafe two firefighter stickers. 

"did you save him?" benny asked you, her eyes wide with wonder. you pushed from the admiring tone and felt your heart swelter with pride. benny was so smart, and for her to be admiring you...that was everything a kid wanted. 

rafe nodded, rubbing his knee, a sweet smile on his face. 

"yeah," you whispered out, as you puffed out your chest. you were a hero. 

2 years ago. 

you were nervous. it was after 8 years that you were going to go to the same school as benny and rafe. after second grade, your parents took you to europe for your studies. only plans had changed and now here you were in america. 

in america, looking at kildare academy with it's daunting building and high standards. 

"she'll be in good hands," the principal chuckled. your parents smiled, and you wanted to go back tightly holding your mother's hand.

you winced, as your mother slowly unwrapped your fingers from hers. she kneeled to kiss you on the forehead. 

"you'll do great things here. i mean-" then she gave your father an adoring look, "it's where the two of us met." 

then your principal led them away, as your parents waved goodbye. 

here was your future just waiting to be taken. 

the day passed quickly, and it was all going well until english. you'd so far completed all the classes and ate lunch alone. everything was fine.

at least that's what you kept telling yourself. 

yes. oh yes, it was fine that benny had passed without a single glance, or the fact that no one remembered you at all. 

hell, a few girls did remember you though, and they gave you half-hearted hellos. some of the guys eyed you with recognition but the people who mattered...didn't remember you. 

but you still hoped that maybe rafe would remember you, but that was until you realised that rafe was right there, and instead of recognition in his eyes, he looked at you with scrutiny. he'd changed, and you were surprised to realise that he was handsome

his frame had filled out, no longer a wiry little boy, instead he towered over you. he loosely wore his tie, his shirt ticked and a smirk that stayed on his face. his hair was a dirty blonde adorned with golden highlights. 

class began and you stumbled into our seat. the teacher introduced herself, ms. wetherbell and then turned her eye on you. her hand was outstretched in your direction. 

"come here, dear." 

you sat up too quickly almost falling as you did so. you blushed and there was something inside of you that was glad for this call out. maybe now rafe would recognise you. 

"we have a new member joining our class, [name] [last name]." 

you waved awkwardly, painfully smiling. 

then you watched rafe scrunch up his nose, and mutter something under his breath. 

you didn't hear it, yet everyone in the class heard it and started laughing. 

they kept their mocking eyes on you, laughter echoing through the classroom, ms wetherbell caught up quickly enough. 

"what did you say mr. cameron?" she asked coldly, and he smiled innocently. you could feel tears prick your eyes, 

"nothing at all," he mustered sweetly. his eyes followed you again and it was only then he realised who you were.

but it was too late. 

present. 

you lay in your bed now, your silk pink night gown on. you never thought of those memories, ones that reminded all that you had lost with him. after that day he had tried to apologise to you, following you until you told him that none of it mattered. 

you didn't want to hear anything from rafe cameron and that's why you wouldn't give him any of the attention he so badly craved. 

just as you drifted off to sleep, settling your paperback back on your side table, a sudden noise woke you up. it was the sound of a pebble hitting your window. you peeked out the window to check. 

there he was in all of his glory. rafe kneeling on your roof, clearly intoxicated, his eyes full of excitement as he swayed.

"why are you here birthday boy? you hissed mockingly. but as you watched his sway fear pricked your heart. you knew he would fall and break his neck if you didn't pull him into your room. 

he sighed, eyes closed as you roughly guided him into your room.

 "i missed you," he slurred and leaned on you. you tried to calm yourself, and not scream at him. you didn't want your parents to know he was in your room. 

maybe they'd think he was having a secret relationship with you. at that they would be pleased but at night? your mother would kick both of your asses and really? no thanks. you would rather not be grounded. 

"you liar," you whispered out. then you inspected him to make sure he wasn't hurt. he noticed you eyeing you, and gave you a crooked smile. he was always in his element. 

"like what you see?" 

you rolled your eyes, your voice a gasp "you wish."  

it was only then did you realised that he had a busted lip. curious . . . even more curious first dipping drunk out of his party, and now it looked as if he had fought. 

"did you fight someone? where else are you hurt," you asked him slowly. as much as you disliked him you couldn't let him wander around hurt. 

he winked in a drowsy manner. "i won, sweetheart. and just the one here." 

then he lifted his shirt to show a yellowish-blue bruise. it looked so bad you hissed quietly. then you slowly approached him with your cream. 

you peered up at him, round eyes full of worry. 

"may i?" 

he nodded, swallowing deeply. 

you tried to apply the cream as gently as you could. 

he hissed quietly, "a little softer, sweetheart." 

you dropped your hand, realising what you were doing. god, damn it! you looked at him again. drunk rafe, shirtless in your room as you treated him. 

you were crazy! instead of breaking down, you took a deep breath and applied some bandage. 

"why are you here?" you asked coldly. he opened his eyes and you fell still. 

"i told you . . . i missed you." he pouted, and you shook your head ready to get up. goddamn it. just as you going to get up, and tell him to get the fuck out of your room, he stopped you. 

"please don't leave me," his voice cracking, "i'm so tired of everyone leaving me." his hold was tightened on your wrist. instead of inching away from him, your whole body melted into his embrace.

he could make you do anything for him. and yet right now you thought you hated him but you were pressed to his side as he nestled his head in your shoulder. 

"tell me why you left that party," you asked him again, and you felt him touch your hair. he played with it, and you could smell the wine all over him.

"i couldn't take it. i had to be with someone who always cared about me. someone who i-i didn't treat every well," he murmured and you felt yourself recoil only for him to grasp your chin to turn you around to face him.

he sighed, "i'm sorry." 

you watched his eyes flicker with vulnerability. someone every single time this boy sneaked past your defence and broke your hold on reality. 

you got up to walk into your bathroom. 

"i need to change," you muttered, picking stuff from your cabinet.

"please [name]." 

"what, rafe? what do you want from me? i always tried to be your friend, but you didn't want that. what am i supposed to do?" you whispered as you felt your hands tremble at your sides. 

rafe shuddered and then turned to look at you. his eyes were clearer than ever. 

"i like you." he slurred, "i'll treat you like a princess and i have the money," he stumbled after you. 

you felt like screaming. "i don't want that! and you know that." your voice cracked, as you felt your whole body shudder with sadness.

"trust me. please trust me, this will be good. you're so pretty and kind and i can't get enough," he whispered, his scraped hands reaching for you. 

you paced around the room. "stop it! stop it!" you said finally. 

"i can't stop thinking about you and you're the only person i want," he whispered harshly, holding your hand, begging for you to look into his eyes. 

you walked away from him. 

"get out of my room," you yelled, "get the hell out of my room, rafe." 

and as he walked out of that door, your heart begged him to stop. you felt yourself drop-down, tears soaking your nightgown. 

your heart broke into a million pieces when he walked out of that room. 

[fl3shm4id3n]

ᵢₜ wₐₛ ₒₙₗy ₐ ₘᵢₙᵤₜₑ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧.

ꜰɴᴀꜰ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏxʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ꜰᴏxʏ x ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

Tw: Spoilers? Missing children, child abduction, mentions of death, FNAF stuff, slight mental illness, mentions of getting committed, a bit emotional with an almost good ending?

A/N: I choose Foxy because he is my favorite both in the game and movie. Hope ya'll like this fic.

Masterlist

You were just gone for a moment, you had to use the bathroom, you thought that he'd be okay with the other kids. When you came out, he was nowhere to be seen. You looked for him everywhere, in the arcade, the ball pit, the bathroom. Then you heard that other kids also went missing. The police got called, you told your mom what happened. You were growing scared and desperate to find your brother. But weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. The police just stopped looking because they didn't find anything. No suspicious activities or of that sort. No one was found and they didn't even find one single body. It was as if they vanished like thin air. But you? You didn't stopped, you didn't plan on stopping until you found what happened to your brother.

Not only that, but your dreams got all sorts of weird. You had always dreamt of the same thing. You were at the Pizzeria, stepping out of the restroom, wearing the same clothes as you did that day, except the place would get darker and more sinister. The people around you have become faceless and the music sounded much more dimer. You'd spot your brother for a moment, then he'd vanish into thin air. Every time that would happen, you'd call out to him. Screaming his name around the pizzeria. You'd also hear a voice, it sounded robotic. It would always spell out something that you couldn't quite catch. But there were some letters that you could make out. 'C...O...M...E... F...I...N...D M...E...'. You were never able to hear it clearly, it sounded like a broken cassette tape. Then you'd wake up. The dream went on for years, you never really dreamt of anything else. If you did, it would always be something that happened in your childhood, evolving your brother. A lot has changed since he turned out missing.

Now it was the early 2000's, you were already an adult. Working a nine to five job at a Target at the mall and living with your mom still. That early morning, you've woken up from that dream. Again, that same dream. You walking out the bathroom, still wearing that outfit you wore that day and the place was full of faceless people and that music. God that music made shivers run down your spine. You did what you'd always do, look for your brother. It always ended with with you entering the main lobby, near the small single stage. And again, that voice. 'C...O...M...E... F...I...N...D M...E...'. You never could make out what he was saying. Then you'd wake up. You didn't understand it. You never understood it. You got ready for work. You put on your red polo shirt with your name tag and your light brown kaki pants. Before you left the room, you looked at a picture sitting in your night stand. It was of you and your brother, on his birthday. You remembered that summer how he had a pirate themed birthday party. He loved pirates. You remember how he would walk around with a black eyepatch and a hook on his right hand. You would even play with him when your mom would be out working late. You always choose to be a mermaid or the villain in his games. You missed those times.

Besides that, you never really planned on going to school for anything. That was the last thing you would be worried about. So you decided to work, maybe save up enough money to maybe hire a private investigator or someone who can help you find something. Now you were at work, doing what you'd normally do. Just helping customers and ringing them out. It was just a regular day. It felt slower than most days. You heard from your coworkers that a security guard got fired, before he punched a guy who he mistook as a kidnapper. If you were in his situation, you'd probably do the same. Now a-days you didn't know who you could trust or you couldn't even look away from a moment because something could happen with a blink of an eye. It was understandable, at least to you.

You've been invited to do things with your coworkers, except you've declined. Always telling them that you were busy or you just didn't feel like going out. It was hard for you to make friends, you had basically isolated yourself from everyone when your brother turned up missing. You never really tried to make friends again. This worried your mom. Since you'd only go to work, go home, eat and sleep. It was a repeated cycle. She had talked to you about going to see a therapist. But you always declined. You didn't want to go and talk to somebody about how after many years you're still on the hunt for your brother. They'll probably medicate you or get you committed into an asylum. You you avoided that topic.

After work, you were back home. In your room, looking through your book. This book had news paper articles, along with police reports, pictures and other things that you've kept for years. This was your kind of evidence that you kept. You'd study these stuff day and night, for the last couple of years. You never gave up. Not only that, but you've tried asking the owner of the place 'William Afton' if you could go into the place to investigate, except the guy never picked up the phone or responded to your letters. You've even tried to get the job as a security guard, but Steve Raglan, who was a career counselor didn't give you the job. He'd always say that. 'It wasn't good for your mental health' or that 'He needs someone who's more calm and collected'. What he probably meant was that he needed someone who wasn't crazy.

You were busy looking at the old, now yellow news paper. Re-reading the article about the missing kids. You've read it many times by now, you might even memorize it. Then you heard someone knock at your door, then they came in. It was your mom. Who had a face of worry. "Y/n? Have you ate anything?" She asked, looking over you saw that she still had her work uniform on, she must have got back. "No, not yet." You responded, then she got closer. Seen what you were reading. She let out a sigh, as if she was exhausted of some kind. "Again? Y/n, we've been over this." She said, then you looked over at her. "I know, but... I just got to find something." You added to her.

She looked at you, seen the dark circles under your eyes. Indicating that you didn't get much sleep. "Baby, it's been years." She said, while looking at you. "You just... have to accept that he isn't coming back." She said sadly, as if she didn't want to say it, but she did. "I know... I just... want to know what happened to him.. or at least who took him.." you added in defense. Your mom then fidgeted with your hair a bit, as if she was fixing it. "So do it, but... you have to stop this obsession. It's not good for you." She said to you. It went silent for a moment, then your mom let out a small sigh. "I'll get dinner started, I'll come to get you in a bit." She said, giving you a small squeeze to your shoulder and she left your room. You sighed, placing your hands on your cheeks and leaned on the desk. Trying to think of what your mom said. Then you looked at picture sitting on the night stand for a moment. After a whole silent minute, you got up from the desk and went into the kitchen where your mom was, to help her with dinner.

You were at the food court, you had taken your lunch break, now you were heading back. You weren't watching where you were going and you've bumped into somebody. Making them drop a book of theirs. "Shit, I'm sorry." You said, picking up the old looking small book with the title which read 'Dream Theory'. Interesting. "It's alright." He said, then you handed the book to the guy. He was cute. He had messy brown hair and slightly tired eyes. The same description as the security guy who got fired.

"Are you... the guy who got fired from security?" you asked him. He had a look of embarrassment, but he nodded. "Yeah, that's me." He said. It was quiet for a moment, but you spoke again. "What you did was understandable." You said, making him look at you with his eyes slightly wide by your words. "You think so?" He asked. "Yeah, now a-days, you don't even know people's intentions or motives. I would have probably done the same if I were you." You explained. He only nodded at your words, at least someone also thought like him. "Well, I better go, hopefully I'll see you around." You said with a small smile. He nodded and returned the smile. Afterwards, you headed back towards your work place, while he also left to his destination.

You were back home, counting the money you kept in a shoebox underneath your bed. It was enough to fire an investigator, but you knew that you'll need more. This would probably cover the bear bare minimum. It was frustrating. You've spent a whole year saving, yet it didn't feel like it was enough. You knew that you should have got a job sooner, than later. Again, you went through the same old articles and pictures. Trying to find something again. But nothing, it was the same old thing. The same words and the same people in the pictures. Of kids playing around the arcade and one of a person dressed as a yellow bunny. That was odd, you don't remember that bunny at the pizzeria. When was he added? When you looked at the picture of him posing with a girl with blonde hair in pick tails, it felt creepy in a way. Almost unsettling. You didn't really notice this picture or you probably didn't notice it at first.

It was another day, you were in the register, ringing people out. You sighed, in exhaustion. Your feet were hurting and time felt much slower than usual. Another costumer came to the register. You gave them the best smile. "Hello-" you were cut off guard, seen that it was that guy you met the other day. "Oh, it's you. Find everything alright?" You asked him, like you'd normally asked every costumer. You scanned the box of crayons and paper, along with a few things he had in his basket. "Yeah, thanks." He said, while grabbing his wallet. "Found a job yet?" You asked him, out of politeness. "If you haven't, I'm sure you could send in your application." You said. "I actually already did, but thank you for the offer." He responded. You nodded, as you placed the items in a white plastic bag with the red Target logo. "What did you find? If you don't mind me asking." You asked him. "A security guard, at some pizzeria. The pay isn't good, but it's something." He explained.

This caught your curiosity. "Really? What pizzeria?" you asked, putting the packet of bacon in the bag. "It's called, I think. Freddy's Fazbear's Pizza, something like that." He explained. No fucking way. You looked at him wide eyed. "For real?" You asked him, he only nodded. Then he gave you the amount of money that was due. As you handed him his receipt, you hesitated a bit. "When can I see you again?" You asked. "Hm, I don't know, maybe in half an hour while I still have time? Why?" He asked, now curious on why you'd want to see him. "It's cause... I'd like to talk to you about something. It'll be worth your while, I promise." You said, he thought of it for a minute, then he nodded. "Alright, I'll meet you in the food court... When does your shift in end?" he asked. "In about an hour, what's your name by the way?" You asked him. "It's Mike." He told kindly, as you hummed in response. Watching him leave in a bit of a hurry, you went back to work hoping that the time would go by fast.

After that hour, you were at the food court, waiting for Mike to arrive. He finally did. "Thanks for coming." You said almost shyly. "No problem, but just make it quick. I got to get back home to get ready for my first shift." He explained. You and him sat on a table. "Look, I know you've only known me for a bit. But, please hear me out." You said. Mike nodded, allowing you to processed. "Could you, maybe let me in the pizzeria, while you do your job. I'm just looking for something." You explained to him. He looked at you with a look of confusion. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal anything, I'm just looking for something." You explained to him. But he wanted to know a bit more. "I don't know. What exactly are you looking for? Treasure of some kind?" He asked. "Well, almost something like that." You told him, but he still not very convinced. You didn't know whether you should tell him the whole story on why you're interested in going into the pizzeria. You just skipped the subject.

"Not only that, but I'll pay you for your troubles. I just want to go in and look, then I'm out." You added, as soon as you said 'paid' he looked at you with more reason. "How much?" he asked. "Two-hundred dollars per night. It'll just be this week and no more." You told him, seen the look of shock in his face. He thought for a minute. Then he nodded his head. "Alright deal, but, you have to pay first. I don't want to get scammed or anything." He said, then you grabbed your wallet and handed him two fifty dollar bills. He took the money and looked at it, in almost as if he'd never seen that amount in while. "That's all I have for now, but I'll give you the rest afterwards." You explained to him. Mike nodded, he seemed as if he was convinced. "Alright, it's a deal then." He said. After that was settled. "Before I go, here's my house number. Call me if anything." You explained to him, writing your house number on a piece of paper and gave it to him. You normally wouldn't give your number to anyone, but you knew that you'd be seen him for the next couple days.

Back home, you told your mom that you'd be going out at night for the whole week. For some kind of night shift and you'd be back at 6:00 am. You left home and headed to the pizzeria. It was 11:55 pm. You were sitting in your car, waiting for Mike to arrive. A few minutes passed and he had arrived at 12:00 am. On time. He told you to just be smooth and not make it seem as if you were here. He sounded as if he really needed this job. You nodded understandingly and went to search.

Like before, you searched everywhere that you could. Except you got to look more. In the kitchen, boiler room and in the back. But nothing. Despite not finding anything, you'll be back tomorrow night. When you got back to the main lobby, you heard strange movements coming from the single stage. It had dark purple curtains like the main one. You got a bit close, trying to listen and see closely on what was making the inside of the stage move. You reached out and tried to pull the curtains, until you heard the Mike called out to you. "Hey, it's 6:00, we gotta go." He said, you nodded at him, you looked back at the stage. Before you headed out. "Here's the rest." You told him, giving him the other two fifty bucks. He took them. "Thanks." He said, putting the money in his pocket. "No, thank you for letting me do this. I know it's risky." You said with a small smile. "It's nothing really, I just... really need the money and the pay here is not so great. From what I was told." He explained. You nodded. "I understand." You responded to him. "Well, I'll see you later tonight?" you asked him. "Yeah. See ya." He responded with a small awkward smile, then headed to his car. You did the same.

You went home, slept for a few hours. You had that dream once again. But, there was a slight change. When you got to the small single stage, the voice sounded much different than before. 'Y...O...U... F...O...U...N..D... M... E...' You could slightly make out the letters, but the words completely. Then you woke up again. Like always. You got ready and went to work and after work you went home, then you left to the pizzeria at the same time as you did before. Mike arrived, you paid him the while two hundred dollars and you got to doing what you were doing. You searched in the same places, but this time you looked more in the main lobby. It felt as if you were getting closer to finding something, and that something was in the main lobby. You looked under the tables, bathrooms and even in the trashcans, but nothing. But it still felt close. Looking over at the single stage, you noticed that the curtains were open. You walked over to it, and saw that it was empty. Dammit, you thought something would be in there, before you could leaned close to look inside. You heard a loud thud in the office.

Quickly you ran towards the office. "Mike?" You called out to him, seen that he was on the floor groaning in pain. Bleeding from his arm. You went over and helped him up from the floor. "You good? What happened?" you asked him, setting him back on the chair. "I think so, dunno how that happened." He said, referring to the wound on his arm. It looked nasty. You looked around the office, trying to find a first aid kit. When you found it, you helped him patch up his wound. "What did you do?" You asked him, as you tightened the bandages on his arm. "I have no idea, I just dreamed of this kid, with a pirate hook. I chased after him, then he slashed me." He said, this caught your attention. 'Boy with a pirate hook.' That must have been a sign somehow.

When you got back home, your mom was getting ready to leave. You talked for a bit before she left. When she did, you went to catch some sleep before work. You went back to that same dream, back at the pizzeria, except you were in the last place where it ended. At the single stage, it was open. But it was empty. You got close, leaning in to look inside, but it was dark. All most like a bottomless pit. You stoke your hand in to see if you might find something, inside but you felt something grabbing your hand in the process. You heard the voice again. 'Y...O...U... F...O...U...N..D... M... E...'. Then the house phone rang. Making you wake up with a loud gasp, a bit frightened. Groaning that you've been woken up. You got up and walked towards the living room. You picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?" you asked through the phone. "Y/n? Hey it Mike, sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing, but. Did you break into the pizzeria earlier this morning?" He asked, sounding worried in a way. "No? I was home the whole time. Why what happened?" You asked him. "Apparently someone or a group of people broke in. I just wanted to conform something." He explained. "That was it, sorry for interrupting." He apologized. "It's alright, I get it. I'll see you later tonight." You said, then you hung up. Who the hell would break into the pizzeria? That was a bit suspicious. You looked at the time and saw that it was close to being time to go to work. You sighed, walking back to your room to get ready.

Later that night, you were back at the pizzeria, waiting for Michael. He arrived, once he parked and stepped out of the car, then he went to the passenger door and opened it. A little girl stepped out with a small back pack. They both approached you. "Sorry, I couldn't get a hold of the babysitter and I just couldn't leave her alone." He explained to you. "Are you Mike's girlfriend?" she asked. Making you giggle and her brother's face turned a slight red. "Nah, just a friend." You replied to her. "Hm, I didn't think he'd have any." She said, making you laugh and Michael's face becoming redder. After you had a small introduction, you went in.

The place was trashed and a mess. While Mike went to put Abby to sleep, you decided to get some cleaning supplies to help clean the mess. You went to the janitor's closet to find some things, you spotted how on the door there was a dark liquid that had been splattered on there. Weird, it looked almost similar to blood, it was probably an old stain of some sort. You got brooms, dustpans, a bucket, mop and cleaning products. Then headed back to the main lobby. When Michael arrived, you and him got to cleaning. You both swept, mopped and you stocked up the chair and tables. Afterward, he went back to the office while you went on your search. Trying to find any kind of new clues maybe, but nothing. Some 'evidence' must have been cleaned up. You headed back to the office and saw that Mike was asleep and Abby had woken up. "Can you take me to the bathroom please?" She asked. You looked over at her sleeping brother and back at her. "Yeah, lets go." You said, taking her hand and leading her to the restroom.

You were waiting outside of the restroom, waiting for her to finish so that she could go back to her brother. The door opened and she walked out. "Done." She said with a small smile. Then a small noise was heard in the stage. You and Abby looked over for a minute. "Stay behind me." You said, then you slowly walked towards the lobby, with Abby behind you. You saw how the stage slightly shook, you kept the younger kid behind you, grabbing a broom. To defend yourself. Then the curtains of both the stages opened, revealing the animatronics. Of a bunny, bear, and a chick. They were all in good condition, with a bit of dirt and dust on them. The single stage had a fox, a bright red one that was more tattered than the rest, also with some dust.

They all moved their heads, towards your direction. Then they began to walk towards you both. You don't remember them doing that. You held the broom tightly, and kept Abby behind you. Except she peaked and looked towards the animatronics. "Those are my friends." She said, removing herself from behind you and going up to the four animals. "Abby wait." You said, getting closer to them. She seemed as if she knew them. Did she? You kept your broom in hand, watching as Abby interacted with them as if she's known them all her life. You felt something touch your shoulder, looking over, you saw the red fox. He was moving his ears and hook for a hand excitedly. Instead of feeling scared, you felt some kind of attraction? "It's okay, he just wants to hug you." Abby said to you, now the animatronics were looking at you. "He does?" you asked her, she then nodded.

Turning to face the fox, that was twice your size. You set the broom aside, then you extended your arms and moved closer to him. He did the same. You wrapped your arms around the cold fur like robotic body. His arms were around your smaller body. It felt a bit odd, but the more you hugged him, it felt comforting. You felt his hook for a hand giving you small pats, as a way to ease you. This felt nice, then you pulled away from him. Looking at him in his single eye. He moved his jaw excitedly, as well as his ears. It was cute in way. You gave him a small smile. Out of nowhere Abby began to laugh, you looked over and saw how the others were tickling her. She just laughed, which lead to some playful screaming and her telling them to stop. It was all fun and games, until you heard Mike run in to see what was happening.

As soon as he got there, he assumed Abby and you were in some kind of danger, he then grabbed a chair and held it up, as Freddy approached him. About to fight him. "It's okay Freddy, he's my brother Mike." Abby said towards Freddy, who had seemed to have calmed down. Allowing him to let Mike pass. "Mike, this is Bonnie, Foxy and Chica. Everyone, this is Mike." Abby introduced everyone to on another. "This is... is a joke right?" He asked, looking confused at you. "I thought I was tripping, but no." You responded to him. "It's okay Mike, they just want to play." Abby told Mike, then Chica turned to her and gave her a wink, making her smile.

"Alright, it's time to go, come on." He encouraged Abby. "Hold on." She responded to him, then she grabbed her little notepad and a red marker from her pocket. She drew something real quick and tore it off the notepad. Bonnie held out his hand, letting Abby put the picture on his palm. He then showed the picture to Foxy who looked very interested in the heart drawn on the paper. "I had a lot of fun." Abby told them, she then walked towards Mike. But stopped and gave Freddy a nice hug. Freddy returned the hug back. You looked at Foxy, who was waving his ears and jaw rapidly again. Also waving his hook around as if he was waving at you. "I'll see you around?" you asked him, he nodded his head. Then you walked out of the place with Mike and Abby.

"That was something." Mike said, watching Abby get in his car. "Yeah, it was." You responded, looking back inside, seen that Foxy was near the door. You guessed to make sure that you would all leave. You turned back to Mike who was closing and locking the gate. "So, find something?" He asked again. "Not yet, but I'm much closer than before." You explained to him. After he finished locking up the door. "I better get going. I got work in a few hours." You told him. "Alright, I'll probably stop by." He teased, making smile. "Alright, don't be a stranger." You told him, then you looked at Abby. "Goodbye Abby." You said kindly to her and she gave you smile, then you headed to your car, turned on the engine to get home. Back home, your mom wasn't there. You assumed she went to work early. You took off your shoes and just jumped on the couch, getting comfortable. Taking yet another nap before work. Hopefully afterwards you could get some better sleep. You fell asleep shortly afterwards.

You back at the pizzeria, except wasn't almost scary looking and dark like before. It seemed more friendly and nice to be in. You were standing outside the bathroom, the same clothes as before. Looking around, you saw someone in front of the single stage, they were small, like a child. You got closer to see who it was. Your eyes widen when you saw the back of that person's back of his head. They slowly turned around. You saw that it was your brother, he looks just like how he did when he went missing. He had on his orange shirt with blue jeans, shoes and his pirate hook that he had made.

"You found me." He said, you felt your eyes watering. It's been so long since you've seen your brother. You almost forgot how he looked like. You said his name in a whisper, then you went over, getting on your knees and pulling him into a hug. "Oh...I'm so sorry, I was only gone for a minute. I knew I should have been more watchful of you." You said, as you cried more, hugging your brother. "It's okay. You found me" He responded to you, all you could do was hug him and cry. As much as you wanted to continue to hug and be with him, you couldn't. This was only a dream. You pulled away, and looked at him in the eyes. "Please... I have to know... who took you?" You asked him, hoping that he'd give you answer or a clue. He didn't say anything. "Please tell me, who took you from me and mom?" You asked him again, but again. Nothing. Before you could ask him again. You woke up.

ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ

[satorusdiary]

"Now that's where you’re wrong, baby. Your mine. Anything you do is my buisness."

Toji Fushiguro x Reader

slight angst + fluff + smut + happy ending + Toji and Reader being down bad for each other :)

Summary: Toji and Reader have been on and off. Yet they have never made it official on what their “relationship” actually was. After an argument, the pair finds themselves being distanced away from each other for a whole 2 months. For the whole 2 months, Reader has been avoiding Toji. When Gojo’s birthday party happens, Toji has had enough when he catches you locking lips with him on the dance floor.

Today marks the 67th day of you avoiding Toji. 67 days without being in bed with him, 67 days without his dick in you, and 67 days without him spoiling you with all the love and affection you desperately needed.

You missed him more than anything.

Apart of you was so close to text him, and to send that “i miss you, please come over.” message. But you had to put yourself first for once. You came to your senses that you wouldn’t waste another 6 months with a man, just for him to call your “relationship” friends with benefits.

Therefore, you blocked him.

You didn’t know what you were doing now. The party you were attending was one you didnt even want to be at, yet here you were. Dancing along side with your friends.

The whole room starting reeking of alcohol and weed, and other stuff that you couldn't put your mind into thinking of it. You were for sure catching a headache from all substances creating in one setting into your senses.

"Fuck i gotta pee." You held your stomach, the slight feeling of needing to throw up occurred to you. Yumi, who was your long term friend and roommate next you held your back and looked at you worried.

"You okay? I'll take you to the bathroom if you need." She offers.

You shake your head and sent a smile her way easing her feels of worrying. The beating in your head wouldn't stop, but you managed to still get by when you starting moving away from the group to find the restroom.

Pushing past others was also a hassle. You encountered others sexually dancing with others, and pushed past the larger groups that were blocking entry ways into spaces you needed to get by.

You walked into the main entrance where many other were crowding around, letting others into the house. You knew there was a bathroom near by there.

Something then caught your eye once you got a clear view of one of the couches, near the entry way. There was two girls, one boy on one couch. One girl was on top of his lap above his crotch, while the other girl was next to him kissing those lips that were once kissing you, and your body.

His raven hair, the baby hairs falling into place infront of his face dangling slightly hinting the other girl he was making out with.

One of his large hands traveled down onto the girl that was on him, slithering down her back and into her ass, giving it tight squeezes. The other hand was cupping the girl he was kissing face, holding it roughly. You shouldn't be watching this, but suddenly you felt a burning sensation build up in your body, most likely your chest.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You cursed to yourself. The first time you’ve glanced at him, Toji. Was when you catch him having a three way with two random girls.

You didn’t even notice your eyes watering. He used to touch you like that.

He opened his eyes, glancing at you with a gentle smirk forming as he continued to kiss the girl beside him, observing your shift in movement at the intensity of his gaze. He watched as your jaws clenched with a hint of jealousy. He was enjoying this.

You sucked in a deep breathe before walking in a fast pace back into the crowd, looking for anyone in general that could keep you company and calm you down at once.

Him thinking this shit was funny was what pissed you off the most.

Satoru and Suguru, who happened to be by the drinks near the kitchen were around a big group of people. Some girls ogling over Satoru, Suguru beside him was selling. Their eyes were settled on you once they saw you enter their gaze, as you walked over to get a cup of alcohol drinking it straight away.

Satoru quickly walked over to you, ignoring the others who were protesting he come back to receive more gifts from others that came to celebrate his birthday. Before you can drink anymore, he snatched the drink from you and looked down at you with a confused tone.

"Easy—easy there love. You good?" He rubbed your shoulder making you look back up him. You ignored the pet name, even though you were slightly blushing and continued to have small talk.

"It's nothing, i was just thirsty." you replied.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you uncertainly. The birthday crown that was over his head was slightly falling off the one side of his head. You scanned around the room and sucked in your teeth, trying to see if Yumi was around. No sign of her in your vision.

You ignored it and looked up at Satoru, plastering a somewhat forced smile on your face, sheltering the feeling of hurt you felt towards the scene you once saw before walking towards him.

You wanted Toji back. Desperately. But your pride for yourself, and self confidence was getting in the way. You needed to provide for yourself for once.

Satoru places one of his hands against your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he looked at you with a gentle expression. He knew you were upset about something, but he couldn't understand what you were upset about that would ruin your night so easily.

Your eyes lit up at an idea. You wrapped your arms around Satoru’s neck and pulled him down until your lips slightly made contact with his ears.

"Satoru.. would you like to dance with me?" You asked in a seducing tone. One that made his hold on you tighten bringing you closer to him. A smirk appears on his lips.

When you pulled away waiting for an answer, his low eyes looked at you with a hint of lust. He smiled and gave you a small nod before holding an arm around your waist, leading you towards the dance floor.

Once you were in the center, a place where you knew Toji would see you, you placed your arms around Satoru and started to move along with him. His large hands slithering down your frame and running against your ass, giving them slight squeezes.

When you looked over his shoulder, you noticed a few girls looking at you with a hint of jealousy running through their expressions. No sign of Toji yet.

You sent delicate kisses over Satoru’s neck. One hand left his waist as he cupped your jaw just so he could whisper in your ear.

"Y'Know, this is dangerous. Your lil boyfriend can pop out of no where and beat the shit out of me for dancing with you." He smirked.

You shook your head, talking into his ear once more.

“Boyfriend? no, no no. It wasn’t like that the second he fucked up.” You murmured.

He pulled away to meet your eyes. Leaning his face closer into your face, before asking you one question that made you know what you wanted at the moment on the dance floor.

"Oh, so he won't mind me kissing you?"

You shook your head and placed your lips on his. His other hand grabbed the back of your head to pull you closer into the kiss than you already are; deepening the kiss. He bit your lower lip and continued to suck on it, making you moan into his mouth.

He slithered his tongue into your mouth as the make-out session continued. Satoru’s big hands running down the sides of your dress, letting his hands touch, studying every curve they came across giving them small squeezes.

You opened your eyes to get a glimpse around you. Toji came to your vision as he watched you and his friend make out willingly in-front of him. You did as he did, smirked in-front of his face and continued to bring Satoru closer than he already was.

Toji was willingly wanting to go over to you both and push him off of you. But he couldn't, he was frozen on the spot and upset, obviously glaring at you both with a beam of hatred.

He didn’t know why he continued to watch. Maybe it’s his sick mind imagining that it was him making out with you instead of that Jack-Frost wannabe.

He distanced himself from you both, going his own way to deny his own feelings of jealousy that he definitely has because of Satoru. You chucked to yourself and gave your attention back to Satoru, happily kissing him which he obligated back.

"Is this my birthday present from you, baby?" Satoru questioned against your lips.

You giggled and nodded your head. "Yeah if you want it to be."

The two of you continued to have small talk for the next hour, having fun and keeping each other company. Happily.

"We should probably stop before things get hectic, Toji over there looks pissed." Satoru laughed out nervously as he looked over your shoulder to look back at Toji, who was giving him an intimidating hateful glare.

You frowned but nodded in agreement. "Alright, give me one more kiss though."

He agreed and pulled you down into one more kiss, roaming his hands down onto your body once more to remember the feeling of being able to do something like those with you.

After a few minutes, you pulled away from him and followed him as you made your way back over to your friends group.

"Hold up, i'm gonna freshen up real quick. I'll meet your with the others soon." You told Satoru, who nodded his head and pushed past the crowd to get back with his friends.

The music changed and started playing "Persian Rugs by PartyNextDoor." You loved this song with a passion. Everyone in the room began to get hyped and continued to dance with others, the lights changing color as smoke consumed most of the area.

You quickly made your way into the bathroom and shut the door, lucky you pushed past the big line of people that needed to use the bathroom. You walked up to the mirror and placed both hands on the counter looking back at your reflection, letting out a big sigh. Your lipstick was slightly smudged, which made you put your thumb at the smudged part to wipe of the left over lipstick. You eyed your figure, and your dress. Your lucky you've gotten this dress, even if it was a bit tight you loved it. It was one of your favorites to wear at a party.

A few bangs hit the bathroom door, signaling you to hurry up. You rolled your eyes and took your handbag and placed it over your shoulder before placing your hand on the doorknob to twist it open. Kento , who was outside the door looked down at you with a surprised look, which turned into a apologetic look after.

"Whoops, sorry y/n. Didn't know you were in here." He apologized before pushing through to get in the bathroom.

"It's fine, Kento." You began to walk away. This time in a different direction than where you were supposed to go. Instead of going back to the dance floor you decided to walk further into the house. You've never been in Satoru’s family home before, why not take advantage and give yourself a house tour for yourself?

You walked down the hallway and walked into a led light room, filled with many different colors that were covering the room with its light. There was not many people inside, besides a few people you recognized that went to the same college as you.

As you walked further, you noticed how beautiful Satoru’s family home actually is. It's well decorative, insanely expensive, and it has beautiful lighting all around the rooms.

You felt someone tug at your wrist which startled you. Before you can get a look at the person you were lifted up by the waist and thrown over someone's shoulder, as if you were a sack of nothing. The man's muscular arms were around your legs while you turned to look at the person who began walking away with you over his shoulder.

"What the fuck— hey let me go!" You punched at the persons back. It was hard to see who the person was, he kept taking you both through dark rooms making it hard to make out the person features. That was until he brought you both into a bedroom and closed the door behind him, locking it. Now you were afraid, you were growing a anxious feeling in your stomach that made you want to scream.

That was until you looked up at the person who brought you into the room. The larger man’s large hands pushed down on your waist as you were pinned against one of the walls in the bedroom. He looked upset, his glare looking down at you sent shivers down your spine as you kept avoiding his gaze.

It was Toji fucking Fushiguro.

He placed his hand under your chin and shifted your head to meet his eyes, placing his forehead against yours.

"So, you getting at my friend now?" His low voice murmured against your head. His hot breathe hitting your face in doing so. You looked up at him with an upset gaze.

"Don't act stupid. Actin like you weren't having a three way with two girls you probably don't know. And anyways, anything i do with Satoru is none of your business." You explained and tried getting out of him grasp. You wanted to walk out the door, and have your own fun. Without him ruining it.

"Now that's where your wrong, baby. Your mine. Anything you do is my buisness." He told you, bringing down his head to place small, delicate kisses onto your neck.

Your legs were gonna give out, there was a heat building up in between your thighs which made you slightly rub them together.

"I'm not yours, now leave me alone. Don't ruin my night please." You pleaded.

He ignored your statement and continued kissing your neck. He noticed how you rubbed your thighs which made him smirk. The next move he did was placing his knee in between your legs, making connections with your crotch.

“Y-You broke my heart Toji. I fucking hate you for that.” Your throat began clogging up as your hands clenched into a fist.

Toji moved his kisses up from your neck, and kissed the shell of your ear. Before muttering soft words you’d never though you would ever hear again.

“‘m so sorry, my baby. ‘m a fuckin idiot for letting you go. You’re my only girl.” He apologized, thinking it would atleast make you feel better.

That was until he felt a few sniffles against his shoulder. His world stopping as he now feels tears seeping through his jacket. Then he remembers when he saw you watch him make out with a few randoms. His poor girl, probably couldn’t handle the scene she saw.

"Those girls meant nothing to me, all i want is you. But you made it more difficult when you blocked me." He stated into your ear. The smell of his cologne was all you can smell.

He picked you up by the waist and made his way onto the bed. Unknowingly to you, the bedroom was Satoru’s. Toji knew what he was doing when he dragged you into this room.

As he sat down, he placed you on his lap making you wrap your arms around his neck so you didn't fall down.

"Don't lie, w-what d’ya even want from me?" You stuttered, a heat of embarrassment rose inside your chest.

He rubbed his hands up and down your body, eyeing at how much skin you were showing from your dress. Then, his hands slithered down to your bare legs and  rubbed them aswell.

You looked so beautiful. As if an angel just appeared into his eyes.

He kissed your forehead and place his head against yours before looking down at your lips.

"I want you, sweetheart." He admitted. You wanted to pull away and deny everything. But honestly, you missed his touch. And you missed fucking him.

You placed your hands under his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Your lips sucking at his bottom lip making him softly grin at your actions. His hands were on your waist, moving and guiding your hips above his crotch. You felt his clothes budge under your crotch as well.

His hands that were roaming your bare legs lifted up the dress you wear wearing, taking it off your frame making you pull away from him. He looked into your lustful eyes as he unclothed you.

His cheeks were slightly red, from the slight movement you've been making that's gotten him hard under your touch. Delicately, he held onto the hook of your laced bra and unhooked it. Your bra fell off your body, your breast being free from it.

You felt heat build up into your cheeks as you embarrassingly covered your chest. You haven't done this with him in awhile, it's like this is your first time with him again.

Toji held onto your arms and tried removing them from your chest. "Don't hide from me, Baby your beautiful"

He pulled away your arms and left kisses around your breasts. One hand was massaging one of your breasts, while the other was being cupped to help Toji kiss it better for you.

You moaned when he began sucking on your nipple, constantly licking and biting the more you grind your hips on top of him. Suddenly, he carried you and laid you down on the bed, letting go of your breast with a pop.

"Open up for me." He demanded.

"H-Huh??" You cried out, your legs were shut. You were too embarrassed to show yourself like that.

"Your legs." His voice was an octave lower. "Let me see that dripping cunt." You whimpered and swallowed your breath before slowly parting your legs giving a slight glimpse of your folds, that were soaked and glistening with your wetness. Toji thinks he's died and gone to heaven with this sight that was blessed for his eyes, and his eyes only.

"Look at you," Toji smirked, pressing your thigh to the bed with one hand while sliding up your leg and ghosting his fingertips over your pussy's lips with the other. "You're soaked, princess," He muttered.

Two fingers were inserted into Toji’s mouth, covering them in saliva, and then pulled back down to slide between your folds. He abruptly put two digits inside, crooked them up, and sent a shockwave through your entire body.

He tittered, pulling out his fingers only to re-insert them into his mouth while swirling his tongue to catch a whiff of your flavor. He continued to look at you while muttering softly between his fingers. His sneer was lewd as he slid them out.

"Toji—" You were cut off when Toji began swirling his tongue against your clit, holding your body firmly in place as you moved on the bed from the pleasure that has been given to you.

"I missed you." You admitted making him look up from between your legs, his eyes meeting yours as he spared a small grin. He pressed another kiss to your cunt before replying.

"I missed you more, baby."

He kissed up at your body, stopping at your lips as he swirled his tongue around yours in a lewd manner. Occasionally you would moan into his mouth, as you were lolling your tongue into his.

He pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs out, obviously rock hard. To your surprise it was harder than usual. He strokes his cock into his hands, eyeing you the whole time as your cunt gets wetter and wetter just from looking at his cock.

He aligned himself towards your body, rubbing his tip against your sopping wet entrance. The lewd noises of your cunt squelching can be heard from all around the room. Carefully, he pushes himself inside you. His hands on both sides of your hips as he gets inside deeper.

Once he's fully inside he places his hand above your stomach to feel himself inside you. You were basically suffocating his cock inside of you from your squeezing, it made him close his eyes for a slight second to adjust to your feeling.

You placed your hand on his arm, rubbing it up and down and looked at him with doe eyes. "Tojii, move please." You beg. The feeling of him just cock warming you wasn't enough for your pleasure.

"Aight, you asked for this 'baby no going back now." He began thrusting into you in and out, in a harsh and fast manner. Your eyes began fluttering in arousal  as your clung to his arms.

As his thrusts grew louder, so did your moans. You gripped around his neck as he moved inside of you. The headboard banged violently against the wall making a harsh noise that you knew the people in the room next door wouldn't enjoy as Toji continued to push his big cock into you harshly. Toji began to rock faster inside of you, observing the ways your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back as he thrusted into your g-spot which made you moan louder than ever. he pulled himself out of you, only to reinsert himself so you felt full once again as he made you adjust to his own size as you continued to cry out his name over and over.

Tears began escaping your e/c orbs. The wet substance began falling onto the bedsheets making Toji bend down to kiss your tears away. "Your pretty when you cry." He complimented, continuing on to kiss your face and your tears.

He continued to roll his hips into yours in a fast pace. He abused your used hole in ways he has never before making a new feeling appear in your stomach. The bubble that was forming was just begging to be released. When his cock twitched inside of you, it made it worse for you.

"Look how deep i am inside you, baby." He cooed making your hand press against your stomach. You looked at him surprised as you felt his cock move inside your stomach. The feeling was almost too much to bear for you body.

He felt pleased that he had caused you to see stars as he watched your breasts bounce with each violent thrust he made. Toji continued to pound into you; you could hear your flesh slapping and hearing a mild squelching. As he continued to pound into you, you moaned out his name while holding onto him. He groaned each time you clenched around him as he pulled away from you and then pushed himself back in. He halted the pulling and started to set a rough pace once more. Toji proceeded to exploit your sweet spots, and you felt ecstasy take over your body.

"—'m gonna cumm" you moaned outloud into Toji’s ear when you pulled him closer to you. Your bodies were hot, closed together as the intimate feeling continued on.

"Cum then, y/n." He pounded harder into as he buried his head into your neck. Kissing, sucking, and licking your soft skin as he claimed you as his once again for the first time in awhile.

You began releasing on him as kept trusting into you. After a few thrusts he came in you aswell. That was a trigger that made you cum for the second time around his cock. Cums mixing in together deep inside of you unknowingly creating the love you two sheared together.

Now, the both of you were panting. Toji places a kiss onto the crown of your head before hiding his head into your neck. Deep breaths being felt against you as you tried collecting your breath.

He was still buried deep inside of you. Thrusting in slightly as he calmed down from his high. You watched as he slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, you hissed from the the overstimulation that over came inside your body.

"Shit, —sorry." He rubbed one side of your body calming you down.

"You okay?" He questions, looking at your fragile, bruised, marked body that he had done.

You hesitantly nodded your head before scanning your body. A pain flashed through you as you tried moving your legs, which Toji took a notice in.

"I can't move my legs." You nervously laughed out loud. Toji nodded his head and began messaging your legs and thighs.

"Sorry baby, i'll help you put your clothes on." He offered, carrying your frame to bring you over to the bathroom that was inside the bedroom.

After your cleaned up, Toji brings your dress and drags back up over your naked body. You looked at him in awe. Your legs were still sore, but you only had your heals with you.

"fuck, this is gonna be a pain." You whined, putting on your heels. Your arm was around Toji’s waist as he assured you some help when you would have difficulties.

He was already fully dressed, besides his jacket that was left on the counter of the bathroom. You patted down your dress as you examined yourself from the mirror. Toji behind you took his jacket, and hung it over your shoulders.

You smiled and put it on before turned around to pull him into a hug, which he happily returned giving you a small rare smile that he usually doesn't give to others around him. As you hug, his hands roam around your body, admiring your curves

“Let’s get out of here, hm baby? Let’s’ go back home and cuddle the night away?” Toji offered. The look he gave you was full of love, and adoration. Something you missed.

You hummed in response, though it wasn’t one he expected.

“That depends, am I still your friends with benefits?” You teasingly asked, the grin on his lips never leaving his features.

“Nah, you’re my girlfriend. Hell, baby. I’d buy you a fuckin ring if you’d want.” Toji exclaimed, kissing your forehead then your lips.

Your body filled with excitement, just a few days ago you continued crying over him. Now you were back with him, today really went according to plan.

“I love you.” Toji muttered, quietly. Yet you were able to hear it.

A big smile appears on your cute features, making Toji’s heart do spins. The feeling of your warm welcoming hands cup his cheeks.

“I love you s’much more. Take us home, please Toji.” You begged.

His arm wraps around your waist, and over his jacket that was around your body. His other hand clutching onto his car keys.

“Right ahead of you, sweetheart. ‘m gonna make up for lost time for you, as your boyfriend.” He kissed your cheek.

Finally, now that label was something you enjoyed.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

[anonymousewrites]

Apple of My Eye Chapter Thirteen

Harry Hook x Child of Snow White! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Audrey Knows Best

Summary: After such a happy moment like an engagement, everyone expects things to head towards "happily ever after." Audrey decides she won't accept that.

            “The crown and scepter are missing?” said (Y/N), eyes wide. Barely a few hours had passed since Hades’s near-escape and the arrival of the New VKs, and already, things were going wrong.

            Mal nodded grimly. “No one has any idea where they are.”

            Somewhere, someone in Auradon had a royal crown—the Queen’s—and Maleficent’s scepter, one of the most powerful magical items in the world. What that person was planning on doing with them was a mystery, and a dangerous one at that.

            “Does anyone else know that they’re missing?” said Evie.

            “No one,” said Mal. “Just us, the royal family, and Fairy Godmother.”

            “They don’t want to worry people,” said (Y/N), pursing their lips.

            Mal nodded. “People are scared enough as it is. We have to employ these entirely new security measures.”

            “Will this delay our bringing over more VKs?” asked Evie.

            “We’re talking about closing the barrier for good,” said Mal grimly.

            “What?” (Y/N)’s straightened in shock. “No.”

            “The four of us are living the dream here, and we finally get to share that,” agreed Evie. “We can’t close it now. I mean, what could be more important than that?”

            “Yeah. I know,” said Mal. “I mean, maybe security or peace of mind for everyone in Auradon.”

            “Is that what they’re thinking?” said Evie.

            “It would just be punishing all those kids again for the actions of a few people,” said (Y/N), shaking their head in disappointment.

            “And closing it forever? What about seeing our parents? We just started rebuilding our relationships with them,” said Evie. “And what about these kids? We promised them that they could go back and visit whenever they wanted.”

            “Yeah, I know,” said Mal.

            “M…” Evie took Mal’s hand. “I am so glad that you’re going to be Queen. You will be a part of these conversations, you will stand up for the VKs. Thank you for telling us.”

            “You’re going to be a great Queen,” said (Y/N), smiling.

l

            “Morning, everyone,” said (Y/N) as they entered Evie’s little castle. The VKs had moved in there, and (Y/N) had an old cottage their parents used in the past nearby, all in walking distance of Auradon Prep.

            It was Jane’s birthday, and they were heading off in a few minutes with all the VKs—new and old—to the Enchanted Lake where the “pool” (lake) party was taking place. Today, they had on blue jeans, a red camisole over a white shirt, and a yellow cardigan. In their arms they held a picnic basket with their swim trunks, towel, and snacks inside.

            “Morning,” said Evie, smiling as she and the boys finished packing. “Catch these.” She tossed apples to Jay and Carlos. “Want one?”

            “Still not big on apples,” teased (Y/N).

            “Oh, but I’m not a stranger,” teased Evie right back before laughing and packing the apple for herself.

            “I really think she’s going to like the cake, guys,” said Carlos excitedly. He had worked hard planning Jane’s birthday. He groaned. “Oh, no. Okay, who got to Jane’s cake?!”

            “Probably one of the younger kids,” said Evie.

            “Remember how much we got into sweets when we got here?” said Jay.

            Carlos sighed. “I do.” He’d forgive the younger kids. He still had a gift for Jane, anyways.

            “You’ll pay the price of what you did, and so will all of Auradon!”

            The VKs and (Y/N) stiffened at the angry voice. Instantly, they ran to the doors of the castle and flung them open. Celia, hearing the same shout, followed. They came up short as they found an old lady cowering from Audrey.

            She had on a pink leather outfit that was frayed with black feathers and a cloak. A crown glittered on her head, and Maleficent’s scepter was held tightly in her hand. She grinned at them, all wildness and anger.

            She was the one who had stolen the artifacts and was now on a rampage, such a far cry from the princess act she always had (even if condescending).

            “So long, suckers,” said Audrey. She spun, and pink smoke appeared around her. She disappeared.

            “I can’t believe this is how she snapped,” murmured (Y/N). “I expected an alternative phase, but not an evil one.” They frowned. They wished Audrey had proper friends and less of her grandma’s pressure when it came to her life. That couldn’t have been good for her, and now she was taking out her frustrations on everyone else.

            Jay grimaced as he looked at Mal (Old? Mal). “Whoa. You should, uh, think of a spell for that.”

            “Yeah, you look like you’re going to try to give me an apple,” said (Y/N), making a face.

            “There’s no spell that can reverse the curse of the scepter,” said Mal.

            “Are we sure True Love’s Kiss can’t handle it?” said (Y/N), frowning.

            “Forget about me,” said Mal, groaning as she tried to shake her head. “Audrey’s out for revenge. And all of Auradon is in danger.”

            “What should we do?” said Evie.

            “The only thing more powerful than the scepter is Hades’s ember,” said Mal.

            “Like he’s just gonna hand it over if we go back to the Isle,” said Jay.

            “And no one knows where his lair is,” said Evie.

            “I do,” said Celia. “He and my dad get along. Dealmakers, you know? I’ve done errands for him. The key is at my dad’s.”

            “You are coming,” said Mal.

            “But I just got here,” said Celia, sighing.

            “Mal?” said Dizzy, stepping into the doorway with Squeaky and Squirmy. They screamed when they saw Mal’s old face.

            “Dizzy,” said Evie, taking charge. “Stay here to take care of the twins. We’ll be right back, and everything will be just fine. Go inside.”

            “Let’s get out stuff and get out of here before Audrey causes more harm,” said (Y/N).

            “How bad is it?” said Mal as the boys ran to get their clothes.

            “You age beautifully,” said Evie.

            “I’d trust you enough to eat an apple you gave me,” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

            “Let’s get into something fabulous, though, to…add to the look,” said Evie.

            Mal nodded approvingly, and (Y/N) smiled.

l

            The four VKs drove their motorbikes towards a cliff that pointed directly at the Isle. They all had Isle outfits on once more. Celia sat on the back of Mal’s bike, and (Y/N) held onto Evie. They were wearing an Isle-themed outfit again.

            This time, it was a white top with a royal blue corset and halter overtop. Gold details covered the corset. Black and red pants hung around their waist, and they wore yellow combat boots to finish the look. (Y/N) had looked at the outfit, looked at the pirate-y details, and looked at Evie with an unimpressed expression.

            Evie had smiled brightly and stuffed them into the outfit anyways, and now they were about to wear it onto the Isle itself.

            At least I do look good, thought (Y/N).

            “Noble steed, proud and fair, you shall take us anywhere,” said Mal, eyes glowing.

            The bikes sped forward into the air. They splashed onto the water, and with green sparks, they drove over it to the Isle.

            The group drove quickly into an alley and got off their bikes. Mal’s young self was back, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

            “Hey, I’m me again,” she said, grinning.

            “Duh. Evil magic doesn’t work here,” said Celia, shrugging. “Kind of the point.”

            “Welcome back,” said Evie.

            “Thank you,” said Mal.

            Celia led the way towards her dad’s place, taking them to a metal door. She knocked on it with a complex rhythm. Inside, someone replied with another pattern. She gave a third. The door slid open. Grinning, Celia gestured for them to enter.

            Walking down some stairs, they found a Voodoo Arcade ran by Dr. Facilier. He brightened as soon as he saw Celia.

            “Hey!” he said.

            “Daddy!” She hugged him tightly.

            “There she is,” he chuckled. They did a little dance together and laughed. “Come here you little rascal.” Together, they walked off to another area of arcade.

            The VKs and (Y/N) walked around, looking at the games of the arcade. Carlos picked up a token and slotted it into a TV. It switched on, and he looked at the screen.

            “Alerts of the sleeping spell keep coming in as it spreads throughout Auradon,” said the reporter.

            “Uh, guys. Come look at this,” said Carlos, eyes widening.

            (Y/N), Jay, Evie, and Mal gathered around him and the television set.

            “There are rumors that Princess Aurora’s daughter, Audrey, is behind the sleeping spell,” said the reporter. “We’re trying to discover who is responsible for these vicious lies and which villain has perpetrated this evil.”

            They can’t even admit that a “hero” kid is doing something evil, thought (Y/N) incredulously. If Auradon ignored the truth, it was doomed.

            “We have an update. It’s what?” The reporter paled. “It’s moving this way? It’s moving this way.”

            Pink smoke drifted across the screen. The reported crashed to the ground, asleep, and the camera cracked against the ground as the cameraman fell asleep.

            “We have to get back to Auradon as soon as possible,” said (Y/N), eyes wide.

            “I’ve got the key,” said Celia.

            “Let’s go,” said Mal firmly.

            They walked out of the arcade and headed for their bikes. Pirates sat on the back of them, and Jay and Carlos narrowed their eyes.

            “Wow! Rookie mistake?” groaned Carlos.

            “Long time nay see,” teased Harry, grinning wildly.

            (Y/N)’s heart beat a bit quicker as they saw him.

            “Get off my bike, Hook,” snapped Jay as the VKs broke into a run.

            “Catch me if you can, Jay,” said Harry. He revved the engine and spun around the group. He parked behind them and grinned. His eyes settled on (Y/N). “'Ello, Highness. Want an exciting ride?”

            “Excuse me?” said (Y/N).

            “If you insist,” said Harry. He extended one arm, looped it around (Y/N)’s waist, and took off.

            (Y/N) let out an indignant and surprised yelp as they were pulled onto the bike. Harry winked at them, then grinned impishly at the VKs, and pressed down on the accelerator.

            As the bike roared to life and sped down the alley, (Y/N) grabbed onto Harry for dear life.

Taglist:

@neenieweenie

@hampterfae

@american-idiot-jpg

@lunalixya

@roo024

@unholycheesesnack

@paastaboi

@lbee13

@rory-cakes

@theeghosted

@newttheglue250

@bridkesby

@yappydoo

@echoheartza

@pain-in-the-ashe

@sugarrush-blush

[standfucker]

Breathe Me In

Character: Smoker

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 7.4k

CW: minor injury and first aid (not graphic but stitches are mentioned), explicit N.SFW content, breathplay, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy

Summary: As a woman in the Marines, the path to Read Admiral has been rough, but Smoker's been there for you since the beginning.

Ao3 Link

🎉🎉🎉🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zoros-sheath !!!🎉🎉🎉🎉 Hope the 2.5 days of anticipation weren't too rough on you. Good job! You did it! You waited and here it is! Sweet n' spicy and served hot just for you! <3 I love you!

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he pours the disinfectant over the wound on your arm, and your breath turns into a hiss.

“I know,” he says. “Sorry, kid.”

“We’re the same age,” you say automatically, as you always do. Not that it’s ever stopped him, he’s been teasing you with that ever since he learned he was seven months older. “And you don’t need to apologize.”

You can handle a little pain. As a Rear Admiral, this is far from your first rodeo, but you always stay mindful of how you’re appearing to your unit. None of them are in the tent at the moment, though, nor is Smoker one of yours–ranking a spot above you, the Vice Admiral led his own team–but habits were habits.

Both of your units had been assigned to the same mission, which was always a delight. You and Smoker had gone through basic training together and started out in the same unit, but didn’t get to see each other as often once you'd both advanced to the higher ranks. You used to hate how he always seemed to be just a step ahead career-wise. You would advance to his level, share a few months to a year at the same rank, and then he would ultimately earn a promotion, leaving you with the dispiriting sense of being second-best. He had even been in charge of you at one point when he was made Captain of your unit. But despite that, you’d have never made it this far without him in the first place, his competence and strength a point of burning motivation for you.

“Not the same age,” Smoker mutters, the childish banter his attempt to distract you. “I’m thirty-six and a half.”

Since the beginning, there had always been a charged undercurrent to your rivalry. You felt it when you sparred, you felt it when you half-jeered, half encouraged each other during grueling physical fitness tests. You felt it when you ate together, and when you reached down to tap your shared bunk frame at lights-out. You felt it most when, every night, without fail, you’d hear a return tap. Each of you pushed the other to excel as you rose through the ranks, and became better soldiers, and eventually leaders, for it.

The life-and-death battles that came with experience only strengthened your bond. Having each others’ backs in a fight brought a depth of trust that few other situations could, you’d found–it seemed inevitable, then, when your relationship turned physical. Though neither of you were as interested in other people, you weren’t exclusive: A near-death experience on your end made you question the wisdom of such an arrangement with both parties in such high-risk employment. And for years, that was fine with you, and you’d assumed it was fine with Smoker. You would get to see each other when work let your paths cross, and you both made a point to try to spend time together if your vacations overlapped. But at last year’s Marine Ball, Smoker had asked you, flat-out in that direct manner of his, if you would be exclusive with him. You asked for some time to think it over, promising him an answer by the time you next met.

That time happened to be the start of the current mission, a few weeks ago. Smoker made a valiant attempt to hide his pleasure when you told him you accepted. He didn’t smile in front of anyone else, nor did he treat you differently while they were watching, but it still slipped out in other ways. He went noticeably easier on his men, even holding his tongue rather than scolding Tashigi when she lost her glasses again. Watching his unit trying to figure out why their Vice Admiral seemed in such a good mood was a source of great entertainment for you.

Unfortunately for everyone, it didn’t last. The mission ultimately led to a fight with the pirates you’d been hunting, and Smoker had been pissy ever since. In the heat of battle, he didn’t notice an enemy taking aim at him. You did, managing to push him out of the way and getting grazed in the process. It wasn’t serious, but you knew that stubborn chimney would hyperfocus on it for a while, replaying the situation in his head and trying to figure out what he could have done differently.

Smoker’s insistence on treating your wound himself, having gruffly dismissed both medics from the tent, was proof enough of that. 

“Sutures now,” he says.

You could usually tell what he was thinking because you thought the same way. Both of you were quick to blame yourselves, to shoulder the burden because you were strong enough to. His sense of duty and yours could clash at times; you shared that headstrong independence in common. And yet, at the end of the day, your decision to accept his offer had been an easy one. 

More importantly than loving you, Smoker respected you–and you’d like to keep it that way. He was never a dick about gender like many in the Navy could be, but your conduct was always in the back of your head regardless. Not appearing weak was crucial to social survival in this line of work. And so, even though Smoker is safe, you do your best not to react when he starts to stitch. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop a twitch here, a contorting of your face there, and Smoker sighs through his nose, twin plumes of smoke puffing from his nostrils like a dragon. 

“Even after all this time,” he grumbles. "You don’t need to act tough in front of me. You’re just like Tashigi… Or, I should say, Tashigi takes after you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The pain makes you respond a little more snappily than you normally would. You don’t appreciate the implications of him naming the only women he spends time with, for one. For another, you’ve informally adopted Tashigi and will hear no slander toward her, but Smoker surprises you with his response.

“You put on a brave face,” he glances at you for a moment before returning his focus to your wound, “because you have to work twice as hard to gain half as much respect.”

That catches you off guard. As much as you love Smoker, and as sensible as he usually is, that’s not something you’d expect to hear from a man, much less a military man. Neither had you ever felt it necessary to discuss that aspect of your life with him, so you ask, “who told you that?”

“Vice Admiral Tsuru.”

You blink. “What brought on that conversation?”

“It was years ago, when we had our big fight,” Smoker briefly looks up as he recalls it. The continued disrespect of your male peers had reached a boiling point, and Smoker’s promotion ahead of you had brought out some hard feelings. “She overheard us, apparently. I didn’t ask, but she approached me with a ‘word of advice,’ and told me her guess as to why you were upset. Said I ought to go easy on you.”

“She did?” You didn’t expect that, either. Tsuru had never once coddled you, nor had she treated you any differently from other soldiers. Like any other Vice Admiral, she demanded no less than excellence from the rank and file. To think she was looking out for you behind your back brings a small smile to your face, but Smoker only rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. And years later, when Tashigi was assigned to me–Tsuru didn’t say anything, but she made eye contact with me the next time we met. Sustained eye contact.”

You laugh; he does not, silently tying off the sutures and starting to bandage your arm. You watch Smoker work. His expression doesn’t change much, but you know him well enough to read the minute differences, the slight tensing of his brow and the way he bites down just a bit harder on his cigars.

“You’re still mad.”

“Why did you take the bullet?” He cuts right to the chase, pausing his work to give you a hard look.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, too, as you hadn’t taken anything, you’d only been grazed. The wound wasn’t even that deep, whereas Smoker getting shot directly would have been a far worse injury to treat, assuming he survived it at all. “Smoker, that pirate was using Colors of Arms. It would have hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead.” His voice is carefully flat as he resumes bandaging, the way it is when he’s making an effort not to raise it–he learned early on that you have zero tolerance for men shouting. 

This conversation always happened after combat situations, to the point that it long since stopped being a bother. You know how to handle it now. Once it would have aggravated you, feeling like coddling, but you’d since come to learn that Smoker got irritable when anyone under his command was injured. Pretending like he would feel any less toward his partner was unfair to him, and a naive expectation in the first place. Not much raises his spirits in these situations aside from time, but you try to be lighthearted anyway.

“In the interest of tactics,” you point out, “as the strongest one in our group, it’s more important that you stay uninjured.”

“Screw that. You’re under me in rank–”

“Barely–” you try to cut in.

“–it’s my job to keep you safe.” Smoker finishes wrapping your wound. He’s delicate when he tucks the bandage in, but then peels off his rubber gloves and tosses them with far more force than necessary, the rubber snapping loudly against the waste bin.

You tsk. “Did you forget what they taught us as grunts, way back when? ‘Keep the Captain alive.’ And you did keep me safe, didn’t you? You subdued the pirate with the opening I gave you. I kept my Captain alive, you kept the rest of us safe. The system worked as it should.”

“The system is a fucking joke,” he retorts with a bitterness you rarely hear from him. His hands ball into fists, and you know he’s thinking about Punk Hazard again, which means he’s thinking about Alabasta again, too.

You also know that his stewing in those memories will only make him feel worse, but there’s another way to lift his mood that occasionally works, when he’s receptive to it.

“...Yeah? Is that what you keep telling yourself whenever you’re fooling around with your subordinate?” You say it just a touch vampishly, and his eyes are slightly narrowed when they meet yours–he knows what you’re doing. “You should know better, Captain.”

Calling him ‘Captain,’ evoking the old days and the old power dynamic, is another dead giveaway as to what you’re offering. For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and you think his mood’s too sour to reciprocate. Then he relaxes his fists and grunts.

“I don’t tell myself anything when we're fooling around,” he says. “You do plenty of that for me. Mainly don’t stop and please.”

You smile, going to rest your hands on his, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, don’t–don’t distract from what happened.”

“Smoker,” you sigh.

“It’s my mistake that got you hurt.”

“Will you please stop taking responsibility for my choices? I know what I can handle. Hell, you know what I can handle. You know I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” he argues.

“Apparently not!” you snap. He scowls and turns his head, ashamed, but you grab his sleeve to make him look at you again. You are not going to coddle his ego, even if his intentions are ultimately loving. “Put yourself in my shoes for a damn second. How would you feel if you had the chance to protect me and didn’t? You wanted to be committed to each other. That means I look out for you, too.”

Smoker stares at you, then at the ground, and then closes his eyes. You wait patiently as he takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, you can visibly see the tension easing in his shoulders, sense its waning with your Haki, dissipating with the smoke he exhales. Stepping before you once more, he rests his hands low on your hips and pulls you close without a word. Conveniently, with him having over a foot of height on you, you can embrace him without the threat of cigar smoke up in your face; you promptly take advantage of that to bury your face into his broad chest (another win for height difference.)

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads in your chest at how easy it is for him to admit it, to defer to your judgment when rightfully earned. “I just hate seeing you injured.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re my woman.” Smoker grabs your ass in emphasis, squeezing hard and pulling you flush against him. You can’t help but bite your lip at the treatment, and he smirks down at you. “Like the sound of that?”

“I dunno…”

“You’re blushing.”

“So are you!”

That makes him pause, taking a moment to check the surroundings with his Haki, making sure no one’s heading your way. You instinctively follow suit, sensing the various life energies of your combined units, all at their respective posts. Comfortably in the clear, you and Smoker focus back on each other.

“I know you're still frustrated, Smoker,” you say. “If only there was some way to work it out…”

“I’m getting the subtle impression you want me to take it out on you.” One hand leaves your rear to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly on your lower lip. You poke your tongue out to brush the calloused digit, making his eyes half-lid and his voice deepen. “Are you really such a slut that you’d fuck right after getting injured?”

“Only for you, Captain,” you promise. Keeping eye contact, you lightly bite the tip of his thumb, earning the rare sound of his breath catching. “Besides…we both know it would have to be deeper than that to affect me.”

“How deep we talkin’?” Smoker’s hand slides from your jaw to cradle the back of your neck. You go to hook your arms around his neck, but raising your injured arm up above your head agitates your wound, torn muscles burning, and you can’t stop yourself from sucking in a sharp breath at the sting. 

Smoker clicks his tongue, large hands gently wrapping around your forearms and lowering them back to your sides. “You need to rest.”

“Nooo, no I don’t. This is nothing,” you protest.

“You’re in pain.”

“I like a little pain.”

“Trust me, Y/n,” he says, touching under your chin. “I am well acquainted with the kind of pain you like. This ain’t it.” 

“You’re literally not the boss of me.”

“And yet, so often, you beg me to be just that.”

Unamused, you tilt your head away so he isn’t touching you, trying not to frown as your heart sinks. By now, you should be an expert at dealing with disappointment, but it never gets easier. God, but it feels like a physical thing sometimes, creeping and icy like a winter sea. “By the time I heal enough, we’ll have parted ways again.”

“I know.” Smoker takes your hands in his; a small consolation.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you next.” You look at him, squeezing his hands.

“Pretend it’s the old days,” Smoker suggests, “when you couldn’t stand to even share a bunk with me.”

You smile at the memory–it seems like a lifetime ago. “That doesn’t help. I wanted to fuck you back then, too.”

That finally makes him smile slightly, the corner of his lip curling. “Then you’ll just have to wait,” he lets go of your hands to hold your face again, leaning in closer, “and I will take great satisfaction knowing you’re touching yourself in private, thinking about what I’ll do to you when I see you next.”

You wet your lips, pulse jumping at the thought. “Why don’t you give me a little preview? I mean, I did just save your life and all…”

Smoker grins, taking out his cigars with one hand and stubbing them in the palm of the other. It doesn’t hurt him given his Devil Fruit, but there’s something about the entire process, from watching the cigars leave his lips to hearing the sizzle as they’re put out, that just makes you wet. Maybe it’s a conditioned response–he’ll move his cigars out of the way to kiss you, but if he stubs them out, it means he intends on taking his time.

“Fine, but don’t complain when you get worked up for nothing.”

“I’ll deal.”

“You say that now–”

You grab the collar of his jacket with your good hand, using your full strength to yank him down to your level. “Would you please shut up and kiss me?”

Smoker responds with equal force, grabbing you by the neck. Your resulting moan is cut off by his lips crashing into yours.

Finally. It’s been months since you’ve last tasted him, even longer since you had him. And while you always missed him when you were apart, it was noticeably worse ever since he asked you to be exclusive. Maybe it was the knowledge that he wanted you to himself, the desire you now knew burned for no one else.

You part your mouth, tracing his lips with your tongue before sucking and nibbling on them. Smoker matches your energy, following your lead and biting your lower lip. Just as you start getting into it, your tongues meet, and suddenly he’s pulling away. “What?” you ask breathily. “What is it?”

“I changed my mind,” Smoker says.

“What?!”

“Any more and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish, but you don’t bother to hide your displeasure, even glaring slightly. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You know,” you cross your arms, wincing when it agitates your wound, “now that we’re monogamous, it’s kind of your job to meet my needs.”

Smoker looks at you sharply in surprise, but you don’t budge. You’ve dealt with misogynistic bullshit for so long, you’re allowed to weaponize it once in a while.

“You are injured,” he points at you, “I’m not letting you guilt me.”

“I’m just saying, that wouldn’t matter if we were slow and gentle about it–”

“When have we ever done slow and gentle?”

You raise a hand to retort, but then pause. Though you scramble for an example, no matter how much you think back, you realize it’s never really happened. Your meetings with Smoker were so few and far between that you two always ended up blowing off steam intensely. There was one time where your vacations overlapped and you spent a week at a rented cottage, and that was it. Slowly, you lower your hand. “Okay, you got me there.”

“And I promise I’ll get you there again,” Smoker says cheekily, “next time.”

This time, you do roll your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Yeah, here’s some more.” You roll your eyes three more times, just to push his buttons a little.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that one day,” Smoker says, having long-since wisened up to your tactics. “This is bait.”

“It is, but you don’t have to take it.”

“Only one of us is going to be taking it–”

Both your senses go off, Haki alerting you to a soldier approaching the tent–Tashigi. You pull away from each other, fixing your uniforms and putting on a strict air. The two of you have yet to be open about your relationship. Romance between soldiers wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but it was less messy to keep things under wraps.

With the mission over, your units would be going on their separate ships the following morning. This will be the last you see him for who knows how long.

Right before Tashigi reaches the tent, Smoker takes your hand suddenly, pulling you into a hug. He buries his face into your neck, taking in your scent.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mutters, then lets you go.

When Tashigi walks into the tent, you and Smoker aren’t standing as close, and Smoker’s re-lit his cigars.

Before you leave for the night, though, you tap on the exam table, a subtle farewell, and right before you leave the tent, you hear Smoker’s return tap.

It’s been three months since the end of the mission with Smoker. Out of the blue, you receive orders to return to the nearest Marine outpost, three weeks away by sail. The message contains no further information.

It’s not unusual to get such orders. Sometimes plans are too sensitive to be relayed even over a secure transponder snail channel. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying–you hate going on long trips blindly–but such is the nature of the job.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if anyone else would be summoned to the outpost. It could be that only one unit is called in. Occasionally, multiple units are called at once. There’s a small chance that others have indeed been called, and an even smaller chance that Smoker’s unit could be among them. But you snuff out the thought–getting excited only to be let down has happened too many times now, you know better than to get your hopes up. It’s simply not worth the disappointment, so you forget about the possibility.

From the number of ships at the dock, you can gauge that your unit is, in fact, not the only one that’s been called in, but you’re one of the first few to arrive. Whether others will come after is not your concern, so you disembark and head inside to be briefed on the reason you’re there in the first place.

Debriefings are boring. So is the down time in-between that and the following meetings, which are the most boring of all. Holding back a yawn is a monumental feat, but you manage, especially because Admiral Sakazuki is the one currently speaking. He’d tear you a new asshole if he caught you displaying such blatant disrespect.

You don’t care for Sakazuki at all. He’s exactly the kind of man the top brass looks for–rigid, humorless, and austere in his leadership. He’s also short-tempered, rude, and, in general, a giant douchebag. So while you stay alert and attentive as he talks, you have no qualms thinking to yourself, shut up, shut up, shut up…

Not curating your thoughts is a mistake. When Sakazuki mentions his annoyance at civilian interference with a mission, you aren’t able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in time, and he catches you.

The bellowing that follows is deafening, the admonishment humiliating. Sakazuki chews you out and spits you up, right there in front of everyone. Do it again and he won’t bother demoting you, he says, he’ll just roast you alive and serve you to your unit.

The room is dead silent when he finishes. You’ve never felt smaller.

Sakazuki takes a deep hit of his cigar, wraps up the meeting, and dismisses everyone. When you turn around, you see that Smoker is at the back, having joined in late–you didn’t even notice him with the Admiral’s presence bowling over everyone else’s energy. Smoker meets your eye, his gaze carefully blank. You look away as you pass by him.

“Y/n–” he starts to say.

You shake your head tersely, not willing to hear it. Smoker lets you leave.

It’s only a few hours later, after you’ve had some time to cool off, that he shows up again. You’re in the temporary quarters you’ve been assigned–at your rank, at least you have your own private room–laying in the bed when Smoker appears. A small stream of smoke comes from under the door and rises, gathering into a human shape. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s visited you covertly in that way. The shape solidifies and reforms into the man you love, who crosses the room and sits next to you on the bed.

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I know,” you mumble without looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Smoker just rests a hand on your knee and grunts.

Your zero tolerance for men shouting obviously can’t apply to those ranking above you, something you’ve had to accept as a fact of military life. It’s part of what drove you in your career, maybe even the root of your ambition, the reason you dream of being fleet admiral. Sometimes you wonder–is it a powerful woman’s determination to succeed? Or a little girl’s desperate bid for control and security, so that no one could ever assert themselves over her again? Either way, you long to be at the top, so you would never have to sacrifice your principles for the sake of your career ever again.

“Smoker,” you say, still staring at the ceiling. “Do you think ‘admiral’ and ‘admiration’ come from the same word?”

Smoker is quiet for a moment. By now, he knows you so well he probably knows what you’re thinking.

“Dunno, kid,” is his response.

“We’re the same age.”

“Nuh-uh.”

That makes you smile, and you sit up, crawling over and throwing your arms around Smoker. He hugs you back tightly.

“Try to control yourself next time, yeah?” he suggests, patting your back. “You won’t do the world any good demoted.”

“I’m not in this for the world. You know that.”

“Bullshit. You have the lowest rate of civilian losses of all commissioned officers.”

You pull away from him, blinking. “I do? That’s–wait, how do you know that?”

“I snuck into the records office last year.” Smoker caresses the back of your head. “Despite what you tell yourself, you’re a good person, a great soldier, and an amazing leader.”

Your chest swells–with love, with pride–but you raise your chin. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I am.”

You laugh. Part of what you loved about Smoker was his frankness. “I missed you so much.”

He removes his cigars from his mouth. “Show me.”

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him. Just like that, the anxiety of the day dissipates, like the smoke rising from his cigars, and fades away. 

“That proof enough?” you ask playfully.

“No. You’ll need to do better than that, soldier.”

You reposition yourself, straddling his lap, and kiss him again passionately. His tongue swipes across your lips, but despite you parting them, he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, pulling away and trailing his fingers down your neck just to watch you shudder.

“I always did like,” he begins, “how a headstrong, driven gal like you would melt at just a touch.”

You’re a Rear Admiral. An elite, powerful soldier, well-versed in the six powers, and a wielder of both types of Haki. You can take out whole crews on your own. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are now, you want nothing less than to be the best. You have to be nothing short of perfect if you want any recognition.

It’s for that exact same reason why your interests in bed skew the way they do. Being strong all the time is exhausting. Relinquishing control is a release from that weight you carry. With Smoker, you can indulge in that with the complete trust that he’d never hurt you–it’s no wonder you’re weak for him in bed. So where you long to be at the top in your career, you’re quite happy, behind closed doors, to assume the opposite role.

Smoker stubs out his cigars in his palm. Just like before, the action has you pressing your legs together, heart picking up its rhythm. He turns to look for a trash can to throw them, you smack them out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Don’t make me wait, Captain,” you say impatiently, practically crawling onto him. “Not one moment longer.”

“Watch it,” he warns, but he’s smirking.

Smoker picks you up, stands, and turns to the wall, pinning you against it with his body. Then he grabs your face in one large hand and roughly kisses you. You kiss him back hungrily. All the stress from the day, all the frustration from the weeks without him, you pour it all into him. In turn, he lets you know with his tongue and his teeth just how much you’ve been missed. His thick thigh separates your legs while you make out, wedging snugly against your cunt. Back and forth, his thigh rubs into you, and back and forth, your tongues push and pull like waves against the other. There’s a bittersweet cigar flavor to him that you’ve grown addicted to. It tastes like passion and need and home all at once, and you can’t get enough.

Smoker sloppily kisses down your jaw, and you angle your head to make it easier for him, clutching onto his jacket. It’s hard to be rational after so long without his touch, but you’re a disciplined officer before anything else.

“You got condoms?” you ask breathily.

“I don’t,” he answers between kisses. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

You have a birth control implant in your upper arm, but always use a second form of contraception just to be safe–even the implant has a minuscule rate of failure. But that percentage seems incredibly insignificant at the moment.

“That’s okay,” you decide.

“I’ll pull out.”

“Yeah–mm!”

Smoker’s bitten down on the sensitive side of your neck. You clamp your thighs around his, gasping. You intended to touch him back, but as usual, once he starts sucking on your neck, you can’t focus on much else, a little whimper rising from your throat.

It feels so good, little goosebumps prickling throughout your whole body. “Smoker,” you whine helplessly.

He growls in response, a deep sound that makes you twitch between the legs.

“Smoker, no marks,” you barely manage to remind him.

He breaks away. “I know.”

The loss of contact restores some mental perception. As much as he gets off on service, you want to make him feel good too. You rake your nails down his chest, and he shuts his eyes, growling again in approval. Then you lean forward and, standing on your tip-toes, bite his neck, near the base where he likes it.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, digging his fingers into your hips. You can’t mark him either, so you have to keep it light, but he doesn’t seem to care. “There’s my good girl…”

You kiss and lick down his chest, digging your nails into his sides as you go. Smoker shudders as your tongue traces his abs, mouth warm on his skin. You keep going down further, but he stops you once your fingers reach the hem of his pants.

“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, pulling you back up by the arm and pressing you back into the wall. He leans in, caging you with his bulk. “Anything you want.”

You bite your lip, his forcefulness bringing something to mind. “Can you do the thing?”

“Make you lightheaded?”

You nod fervently, and Smoker wastes no time in grabbing your neck.

“No, I mean the other way.”

“Oh.”

“You can keep your hand there, though.” You grin up at him, and Smoker chuckles.

“That’s my needy little soldier, need me to keep you still, hm?” he praises. “Remember the safe signal?”

The safe signal is tapping ‘SOS’ on the other in morse code. You do so on his arm as a confirmation.

“Okay. You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans in and kisses you, sealing your mouth with his own. You grip his wrist, tense in eager anticipation for what comes next.

Smoker transforms a part of his body internally, and, very slowly, wafts it into your throat. You breathe him in gradually, a single, deep breath bringing the smoke into your lungs. You had discovered this particular little activity by accident years ago, but quickly found out two things: First, his smoke doesn’t make you cough, and second, the lack of oxygen makes your head swim in the best way.

The smoke in your chest is warm and comforting, even soothing. You breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose, where the smoke drifts back and reconnects to Smoker’s body. The first breath of him doesn’t do anything, the second starts to bring on a slight airiness, by the third inhale you’re lightheaded and wetter than you’ve ever been.

You grind on his thigh, eyes rolling back. The lightheadedness enhances the pleasure so much you'll cum soon if you keep it up. Smoker presses his thigh up into you further, making you moan, and you reach for his cock. He’s already unbuttoned his pants for relief, as he’s ragingly hard–doing this always gets him really worked up, too. Something about the trust, about being physically in contact with the most life-giving parts of you, about being inside you in a way no other person could be. He feels the pulse of life through your lungs, and it almost makes him as dizzy as he’s making you.

Smoker groans as you start massaging his cock, reflexively thrusting himself into your hand. Thanks to your Marine training, you can hold your breath longer than most, so you stay like that for a while, grinding on his thigh while stroking him and basking in the high, the bliss mounting quickly higher until it explodes. You cum hard against the solid bulk of his thigh, pulling your head back and gasping fresh air as your vision spots.

“There you go, good girl,” Smoker praises, grabbing your hips and grinding you onto his thigh to draw out your orgasm. “Take deep breaths for me.”

You do as instructed, holding onto him and closing your eyes, slowly regaining oxygen as your clit throbs in the wake of everything. You take a few minutes to recover, Smoker peppering kisses all over your face in the meantime.

“All clear,” you say, wrapping your arms around Smoker’s neck. “Fit for duty and reporting for action.”

He leans in and kisses you, then kisses your jaw, making his way to your ear, where he growls, “how do you want me?”

What a dumb question–do you ask a starving man which restaurant he wants to go to? “Don’t care. Just have me.”

“Suit yourself. You got a change of clothes here?”

“Yeah.”

Without further notice, Smoker grabs your shirt at the neckline and tears it off your body in one motion. He knows better than to do the same to your bra (after having yelled at him years ago that good ones aren’t cheap,) letting you take it off yourself. Then he adjusts you so only your upper back is leaning against the wall, your hips perched on his own, with your legs wrapped around him for support. Now having some space behind your lower back, he grabs your wrists and pins them there.

“Don’t complain about your choices later,” Smoker says, and kisses his way down your breast until he’s reached your nipple, which he takes into his mouth.

“No, Sir–ah!” you bite back your moan as he swirls his tongue, tugging helplessly against his hold on your wrists. “Fuck!”

His tongue prods and licks your nipple, eyes fixed on your strained face, then he messily pops off and goes to your other one, sucking it hard.

“Smoker! Ah! Please…” you moan. His attention to your chest is the worst kind of teasing, making your engorged clit ache to be touched. You try in vain to grind against him for some relief, but with your wrists pinned behind your back, you can’t get any leverage. “Please!”

Smoker detaches from your chest, leaving a rough bite to your breast before responding. “What did I say about complaining?”

“I changed my mind!”

“Imagine that.”

He goes back to slurping and sucking on your tits, and you can do nothing about it but struggle against him, gasping and moaning as his teeth gently scrape your nipples.

“Please, Sir!” you beg.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I need it!”

He kisses your nipple sloppily, pausing to ask, “you fantasize about it?” Then he sucks it into his mouth again, watching your expression as you struggle to respond.

“Yes! I–fuck–I thought about you every night!”

“What did you imagine me doing to you?”

“What do you think?” you whine, losing composure.

“Tell me.”

You could cry with frustration. He keeps teasing your chest while you try to form the words. “I thought about you–manhandling me, pulling my hair…”

“And?”

“And holding me down, and fucking me stupid!” you sobbed. “Please, please!”

“Please what, soldier?”

“Please use me for yourself! I want to forget everything but your name!”

He smirks, finally satisfied. “You sound damn good begging, you know that?”

Letting go of your wrists, Smoker tears your pants off of you as easily as he did your shirt, gripping the cloth so hard your underwear beneath is torn off with it. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his massive cock springing rigid against his abs, smearing pre-cum on his skin. You practically salivate at the sight, but he tilts your chin back up to look at him, then kisses you, tongue in your mouth as he lines himself up with your heat.

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he thrusts all the way inside your heat, and your breath turns into a broken moan.

“I know,” he growls, kissing up your neck, “attagirl, taking it all.”

“Oh my god,” you rest your head on his shoulder, overwhelmed by how good it feels. “Oh, Smoker…”

He pulls back his hips before rolling them into you, ripping a moan from you both. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He thrusts again. “And warm. So warm.”

Smoker starts up a brisk, steady pace, most of your upper body supported by his arms, just your upper back resting on the wall. It’s still not enough for him; he presses you back even further until you’re flat against the wall, thrusting up into you desperately. You grab onto his thick arms, fingers digging in, and hold on for the ride, eyes shutting tightly as he rapidly drags you back to another peak.

“Such a loyal little soldier, taking care of their captain…” he murmurs, and you cry out as you cum a second time. He moans at the feeling of your walls spasming around his cock, slowing down so he can kiss you.

Smoker pulls away from the wall, walking you toward the bed. Unable and unwilling to wait, you use the strength in your thighs to ride him standing, fucking yourself on his dick as he walks. The sensation makes him stagger and groan, cursing.

“So desperate for my cock,” he growls into your ear, then picks you up off his length and tosses you, face-down, onto the bed. Before you can so much as turn your head, he smacks your ass hard, making you moan, then grabs your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Well, Y/n?” he asks. “Am I meeting your needs now, you little slut?” He slaps your ass again, drawing another pathetic noise from you, then mounts you from behind, his broad torso covering your back.

Smoker teases the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you practically throw yourself back onto him. Growling, he grabs your hips and spears you on his length, grip bruising as he starts heavy, rough thrusts.

“Yes!” you cry, finally getting what you’ve craved all these months. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You take it so well, Y/n, and you’re all mine.” Smoker lets go of your hip with one hand to instead curl his fingers into your hair at the base, pulling your head back so he can growl into your ear, “I love knowing that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

“Captain!” you moan, bracing against his powerful hips. “Don’t stop!”

He doesn’t slow down for a moment, never changing pace, working you back up and up and up until you’re moaning with every thrust.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Me too,” he pants. “Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good.”

“Finish inside!”

“What–?”

“Please!”

He slows for just a moment in his surprise, but then gets back to his former pace. “Ain’t there a chance you could get pregnant?”

Now, you weren’t interested in having children. The idea occasionally had some appeal, but you preferred your life as it was. And yet, for some reason, at Smoker’s words, you felt your clit throb and your cunt clench around his dick tightly, enough that he definitely noticed.

“You want that?” Smoker says in disbelief.

“No!” you cried, but it was too late, he pulled your head back again and spoke into your ear.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to knock you up?”

You clenched down on him again involuntarily as you sobbed, “that’s not it!”

But Smoker had found a new weak point of yours, and pounced on it fully. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna make you have my baby,” he growled, “then you’ll really be mine forever.”

The edges of Smoker’s form begin to wisp. You’ve heard of inexperienced Logia types losing control of their form when stressed, something fixed with training. At Smoker’s level, it only happened to him when he was about to cum really hard.

“Or is it,” Smoker pants, “you just want to be full of my cum that badly? You’d risk it just to have me claim you… Oh–oh, fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back as you both hit your peak at the same time, Smoker emptying hot and thick inside you, his groan coming from deep in his belly. The nerves of your cunt spark and snap and go off like fireworks, showering your whole body in bliss that radiates in waves. His head rests on yours, his lips finding the back of your neck, kisses now soft and chaste instead of rough and wet.

Smoker readjusts you to both lay down, not pulling out, just holding you to his chest. You close your eyes as both of you catch your breath, soaking in the closeness while you can. You take in everything you can of that moment: his scent, the sweat rolling down your bodies, his firm body against and inside you still, his arms holding you close. You try and imprint it into your brain, so you can hold onto the memory in the coming lonely months without him.

“I love you,” Smoker says softly.

“I love you too,” you murmur. He’s quiet after that, but you can sense that there’s something else he wants to say. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about getting married someday?”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. The look in his eyes is the same as always: serious and forthright, though now beholding you, there’s a gentleness in them as well. He pulls out and you turn around so you’re facing him.

“Serious?” you whisper.

“Well, you don’t want kids. I gotta do something to make you mine.”

You smile. “Smoker, you don’t have to do anything.” You take his face in your hands. “It’s always been you. You’re the only one who gets me, and who makes an effort. It’s always been you.” You lean in to kiss him. “I would love to get married someday.”

“Good,” he grunts, but there’s a flush to his cheeks. Then he breaks into a rare, genuine smile of excitement. “Really?”

“First I’m going to become an Admiral.”

“What about Fleet Admiral?”

“That can come before or after.”

“Okay.” he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “I don’t doubt you’ll make it.”

“I don’t either,” you say.

Not as long as you have his support.

[cthulhu-calling]

Camisado 1

Dark!Steve Rogers x female!Reader

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.  You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : 1950's AU, smut, misogyny, factual inaccuracies, lots of talk of pregnancy (seriously, this is a major content warning)

Author’s Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. It has all the period typical sexism but considering that when I imagine readers, they're always woc, there will be no period typical racism. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I tried to do as much research on life in 1950's America so please be kind and let me know what you think!

Word Count : 5k

masterlist

You fell back on the couch, deciding on taking a small break after having spent the whole morning dusting and vacuuming the house. You still had to do the dishes and hang the clothes out to dry. Your mama always said, a man’s home is a reflection of the woman he’s with, and so you made sure to keep the house in near perfect condition. You looked up at the clock, a wedding gift from Steve’s ma. You adored Sarah Rogers, she was almost like a second mother to you. It was already past noon and you really needed to get a move on. You had less than an hour to take a quick shower and then make a quick lunch for you and Steve to take to the garage. 

Finishing your shower in record time, you quickly add chicken soup, flour, pepper and cayenne into the slow cooker followed by stirring in the chicken and veggies. You knew Steve always enjoyed your slow cooked chicken a la king. You could leave it on and it would be ready just in time for dinner. Packing a quick ham and cheese sandwich for the both of you, you placed it in your bag before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror. You had on a sleeveless white blouse with a blue, floral-a-line circle skirt and black kitten heels along with a classic red lip. Steve always preferred you in skirts and dresses as opposed to pants or trousers. 

With ten minutes before the clock struck one, you quickly made your way out of the house and began the short walk to the garage where Steve worked. You always brought Steve his lunch and spent the half hour of his lunch break with him and today was no exception. You’d been married for just over a year now and the two of you had decided that you’d wait for a while before starting a family, wanting to just enjoy each other’s company for a while before you added children to the mix. But it was established that you both wanted kids. While two would be more than enough for you, Steve wanted three, at the very least. 

You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you. 

And exactly three years later, on your twenty-second birthday, he asked you to marry him. And you said yes, of course. The two of you got married two months after that day, in an intimate ceremony with only the closest of friends and family. Steve worked as a mechanic at Mr. Stark’s garage, making more than enough for the two of you. After the monthly expenses, the mortgage on the house and your savings were covered, you had just enough left every month to go out for a fancy dinner and to the movies once. 

As you reached the garage, you spotted Steve bent over the open bonnet of a car, tinkering around. Taking this opportunity to startle him, you walk up behind him as slowly and noiselessly as possible before placing a hand on his shoulder, calling out his name, causing him to startle and hit his head on the bonnet. He curses loudly before turning around, the anger evident in his eyes which burns out a little when he sees you. “You should know better than to do something like that doll,” he whispers in your ear, pulling you close by your waist before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the heat rising to your face as you look towards your feet, licking your lips as you mumble out an apology. 

“Why don’t you take a seat doll, I’ll be done here in five,” he says before continuing to work on the engine. You nod as you take a seat a little distance away, pulling out the book you got from the library last week, smoothing out the dog-eared edge before diving back into the book. Just as you were about to finish the chapter you’d been reading, Bucky walks out of Mr. Stark’s office, snatching the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” you huff out a protest, reaching out for the book that he proceeded to hold above his head. Laughing heartily at your antics, Steve comes up behind Bucky to snatch the book and hands it back to you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. 

Rolling his eyes at that, Bucky continues “Nat needs y’all to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he says as he opens his lunch, digging into the food. Bucky and Natasha were Steve’s friends and had become yours too when you started dating him. The two had been married for five years now. Natasha was probably the most badass woman you’d ever met and while you hoped your mama never caught you saying that, it was true. She was headstrong and never took any crap from anyone. She was a nurse and while you admired her, you were a bit envious of the fact that she was a working woman. Steve didn’t allow you to work. He believed that it was his job to earn money to support you and while you would have still loved to work, you understood that things couldn’t always go your way. 

“What for? We’re going to my ma’s tomorrow night,” he questioned as you handed him his sandwich, before grabbing your own. 

“Go to Sarah’s some other day. Nat’s going to prepare a feast and she needs you there. Sam and Wanda and Clint and the family are coming too. Come with your appetites prepared,” he said, finishing off the last of his lunch before dusting his hands off and getting back to work, “No excuses, be there by seven. And for god’s sake Rogers, look presentable.” 

“Beat it, punk,” Steve yelled as Bucky moved away with a wave of his middle finger. You looked at Steve, giggling, before promising, “I’ll drop by and make her some soup for tonight. I’ll spend the night too if need be. Don’t worry, we’ll go to Nat’s tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek before removing yourself from his lap, packing up your bag. “I should get going, let you get back to work. I have lots to do at home,” you wave a goodbye, Steve watching your hips sway. 

Steve knew you were the perfect dame for him. He loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. He knew you’d be the perfect wife and mother to his children. He wanted you just to himself for a little time before the two of you started a family because he knew once he got you pregnant, he planned on keeping you round and full of himself for as long as possible. Just the thought of you barefoot and pregnant under his roof, cooking for him and his children, your breasts swollen and heavy with milk for his child. Just the thought of you pregnant and oh, so sensitive because of him, it all turned him on more than you could ever imagine. 

He vowed to start trying to get you pregnant soon. 

*

By the time you got done with all your chores around the house, you were exhausted. Dinner was done about halfway and the chicken noodle soup for Sarah was done and packed for you to take to her. She wasn’t feeling too well the past few days so you and Steve were going to visit her tomorrow with dinner, just to check up on her. But now, you’d already called and told her about your plans for tomorrow evening and that you’d swing by today before dinner. She was rather accommodating, claiming that the two of you needed to spend time with people your age. And she sounded much better as well. Her cold seemed to have improved and she sounded more energetic. 

At half past five, you decided to get to Sarah's house. She lived close enough, just a couple of houses down the street. When you and Steve got married, you decided to get a house close enough to both his ma and your parents as well. Which reminded you that you needed to visit your mama soon as well. You had borrowed her Vogue knitting books, and it was high time you gave them back. You quickly make the ten minute walk to her house and let yourself in using your set of keys to enter the house, not wanting Sarah to move around too much but to your surprise, you find her in the kitchen, humming a tune you couldn’t quite recognise, cooking what smelled like her famous lasagna causing your mouth to water instantly, the response Pavlovian at this point. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed ma, not prancing around the kitchen doing only the Lord knows what,” you say as she turns around, giving you a wide smile. 

“Don’t you dare sass me kid. Is that really how you greet your poor old mother in law?” she asked as she walked out of the kitchen, pulling you into a tight hug. Giving you a final squeeze, she grabbed your hands in her frail ones, leading you towards the living room. 

Stopping her halfway, you let go of her hand before holding up the thermos full of warm soup that you had brought. 

“I’m going to put this away for now. Heat it up before you eat it, okay?” you instructed as you moved towards the kitchen, putting the soup to the side before moving your hair out of your face and tying on an apron. 

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing missy?” she said as she followed you into the kitchen, thin arms crossed across her chest.

“Doing your dishes, what else?” 

“Is anything I say going to make you stop?” she wondered out loud. 

“Fat chance,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, you better hang around until the lasagna is done, I’ll pack some for Steve. Speaking of which, where is that boy?,” she said.

“Still at the shop I believe,” you answered, almost done with the few dishes. 

“I see,” she says, an odd look passing over her face but she doesn’t say anything further so you continue to work in a comfortable silence. 

Wiping your hands when you were done, you removed your apron and put it back in its place. “Alright ma, I should get going. Steve must be back by now,” you said as you took your bag, a large oven dish of lasagna in your hands, moving towards the door, only to be stopped by her. 

“Tell me my dear, have y’all thought about babies yet?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at her with a confused look. “We’ve decided to wait. And we’ve only been married a year now,” you answer. 

Laughing lightly, she squeezes your hand in hers before letting go. “Alright. You tell that boy to come see me soon, okay?” You nod and wave goodbye as you start walking home. Checking the time on your watch, you’re horrified to find it’s already quarter to seven and increasing your pace, almost running to get back home before Steve. You reach home with just five minutes before the clock strikes seven, having just enough time to freshen up and fix your hair before the doorbell rings. 

At the sight of you, a smile quickly overtakes his face which you can’t help but reciprocate. As soon as he walks in he has his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You quickly push him away with a giggle, “At least wash your hands first!” 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he says, squeezing your ass which causes you to squeak. Laughing, he hangs his cap and goes to freshen up as you get to setting dinner out. 

At the table, you tell Steve of his mom’s request and he agrees, saying he’ll go see her on Sunday. 

“Any clue what this impromptu get-together at Bucky and Nat’s is about ?” 

“I tried but couldn’t get anything outta him. Guess we’ll only know tomorrow,” he shrugged. 

“I should call and ask if she needs any help,” you said after dinner once you were done with clearing the table and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve was in the living room with a book and a beer. You couldn’t afford a television just yet but Steve had been saving up and according to him, you’d be able to get one in a month or two. 

He hummed absentmindedly, which meant he wasn’t really paying attention. Sighing, you quickly rang Nat up. It was Bucky who answered the phone. 

“Hey, is Nat there?” you asked. 

“Sure, I’ll just put her on,” he said and you could hear him calling out to Natasha in the background. 

“Hello dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she laughed. 

Giggling, you reply “Just wanted to check if you needed any help for tomorrow. It was rather impromptu and I heard that everyone is coming,” to which she only huffed and said “I just require you and Steve to show up, that’s all. Now I got loads to do honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said as she swiftly hung up leaving you a little stunned. 

“That was weird,” you think out loud as you sit down next to Steve on the couch, his arm immediately draping itself around your shoulder and pulling you into his body. You snuggle closer, a content sigh slipping from your lips. 

“Don’t think so much, it’s probably nothing,” he soothes, his fingers playing with the collar of your blouse. Oh, so he was listening. 

“But-“ you start, immediately silenced by Steve shushing you. “Enough about this. We’ll go there tomorrow and find out,” he chastises, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Deciding to just let it go for now, you untangle yourself from Steve who lets you go albeit a bit reluctantly and get ready for bed. It takes you some time to fall asleep but with Steve’s arm around your waist, holding you close, you manage to get a few hours of rest. 

*

You fixed your pretty yellow sundress and checked your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. Modest but tempting. Perfect. Just as you were about to call out to Steve, he emerged from the bath, freshly shaved. Still not dressed, you tilt your head towards the cupboard, urging him to get dressed quickly. 

Rolling his eyes playfully, selecting a simple khaki and the baby blue shirt you’d left out for him. Steve combed his hair back, following you out of your bedroom, watching you pack up his ma’s lasagna. You knew it was Bucky’s favourite, it was almost everybody’s favourite, having not let him eat any of it last night. 

You knew Nat hadn’t asked you to bring anything with you but your mama would never let you leave home for a party without a little something for the hosts. So here you were, outside Nat and Bucky’s door, a tray of lasagna in your hands and Steve’s arms around your waist. Bucky opened the door with a wide smile, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

“Come on in, kids!” He almost yelled, definitely a little tipsy. Smiling at him, you stepped inside and Steve closed the door behind the two of you. 

Sam and Wanda sat on the couch, each nursing their own bottle of beer and a glass of wine respectively. She smiled and waved at you, patting the couch on her side, inviting you to take a seat. Holding up the lasagna, you tilted your head, motioning towards the kitchen. 

Natasha and Wanda both drank occasionally. You didn’t though. Steve didn’t like you drinking, not even a beer on the occasion. It was all your fault really. 

It was your best friend from school Ella’s twentieth birthday. Just you and a couple of other people from your class decided to surprise her with a little get together near the lake by the old lighthouse. You knew there would be alcohol but as long as you didn’t drink too much and were aware of your surroundings, things would be fine right? 

Wrong. Steve had been by your parents house, looking for you and being told exactly where and with who you were, he couldn’t control his rage. He didn’t approve of ‘Ella and her posse of bimbos’, as he put it. You knew that and while you didn’t agree with him, it was the reason you couldn’t tell him about your whereabouts that night. 

When he finally found you, you were sitting on a little picnic blanket, half drunk bottle of beer in your hands, chatting away with Ella and her boyfriend. You were a little tipsy but immediately sobered up at the sight of Steve storming towards you. 

You quickly got up, dropping the bottle as it rolled off somewhere, the sound of your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins deafening. Ella tried to intercept him, trying to get him to stop and talk but he just ignored her and continued to walk towards you, grabbing hold of your upper arm. You yelped loudly at how tight his grip was, trying to get him to let go of you as he dragged you away from the lake and towards his motorcycle. 

At a distance from the lake, he finally let go of your arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. 

“Ste-,”

“Shut up. I don’t want a word out of you,” he spat. 

You quickly shut your mouth, taking a step back from him. 

“How many times, huh? How many fucking times have I told you to stay away from that girl? And yet, here you are, dressed like a slut, drinking away with that stupid whore and her friends,” he says viciously, taking a step forward for each one you took back until you were backed up against a tree. 

You were terrified. You’d never seen him this angry before, at least not at you. 

“You are never to see that girl again, do you understand?” he barks, causing you to nod your head so hard, you thought your neck might snap. 

“Good. Let’s get you home. Put this on,” he says as he holds up his jacket for you which you promptly slip on, following him to his motorcycle. You don’t even realise when you start crying, the tears streaming down your face making the skin burn against the harsh wind. 

When you finally reached home, you got off wordlessly, shrugging off his jacket which was hanging from your smaller frame and handing it to him. You turned to walk back towards the front door only to be stopped by him grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. 

At the sight of the wet trails streaking your face, a flash of guilt passes in his eyes but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived. 

“You know I’m saying this because I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you, you know that right?” 

You can only nod numbly, as he gives you a small smile and a peck on the lips before gesturing for you to go back in, watching you till you’ve gone inside and locked the front door. 

Of course, you wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. Ignoring his phone calls or having your mama pick up the phone, telling him you weren’t home when he came knocking. 

You made him grovel and plead, letting him know just how angry you were but in the end, you gave in. You loved him, with his flaws and all. 

Pulling yourself out of your little daydream, you walked towards the kitchen where you could hear Natasha moving about. As you walked, you admired the picture frames that adorned the walls. You loved Nat and Bucky’s house, so happy and full of memories. You couldn’t wait to have that with Steve. 

“Now, didn’t I tell you not to get anything? I’m cooking up a storm here, who’s gonna eat all of this?” She questioned, her hands on her hips, over mitts on her hands and a frilly apron on. 

You laughed and moved closer to give her a quick peck on her cheek, putting the lasagna on the counter. 

“It’s Sarah’s lasagna. You don’t have to worry about it going to waste,” you tried. 

“Oh, I know. But you know my cooking can’t compare to hers!” She complained mockingly. Sharing a laugh, you start helping about, feeling odd just standing there doing nothing. She lets you help but refuses to tell you why she wanted everyone to come over when you tried to  ask. 

You had to give it to her though, she really had outdone herself. As you helped her take the food to the table, you were in awe. Tuna noodle casserole, beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes completed with the perfect buttermilk pie. The sight alone made your mouth water and tummy grumble. 

At the delicious scent wafting from the dining table, everyone slowly poured in, each of them grabbing a plate and loading it up. You couldn’t wait to dig in, everything looked mouthwatering. Jokes were made and compliments given, you made to take a bite but were immediately stopped by the conversation taking place across from where you and Steve sat. 

Bucky was urging Natasha to take a bigger helping of the mashed potatoes. While that was not particularly surprising, the next bit caused everyone to stop and stare. 

“You really should take some more,” he says, adding another heap of the potatoes to her plate, “you’re eating for two now.” 

You’d never heard silence quite this loud, everyone stopped midway, staring at Natasha and Bucky. Not Clint’s children of course, they couldn’t be bothered by much. They were busy stuffing their little faces with the feast Nat had prepared. 

After a minute or two of utter silence, a cheer broke out and Natasha and Bucky sighed, exchanging small smiles of relief. 

You, along with Laura and Wanda got up almost simultaneously, rushing around to envelop Natasha in a giant bear hug, who had started crying at this point. The boys were all congratulating Bucky, patting him on the back and making lewd jokes. The children seemed clueless as to what the fuss was all about but declared their merriment by making various noises as well. 

When everyone has settled down, continuing with their meals, the relative silence is broken by Wanda, “We get to be godparents, right?” She questions, motioning between herself and Sam. That’s when Steve pipes up, “You guys are already godparents to Cooper. I think it’s our turn.” 

“Exactly! What do you say Natty?” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully at her. 

Huffing a laugh, she adds “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Can we just enjoy this lovely meal I worked so hard to make?” 

This shuts everyone up, again passing praises and compliments her way. Once the meal came to a close, it was already well past the kids' bedtime so Clint and Laura took off, followed by Sam and a rather tipsy Wanda. You stayed back to help Natasha clean up, despite her protests. 

“You’re a pregnant woman and I’m already mad enough you did all of this by yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself Barnes, letting your pregnant wife do all the work,” you chastised. 

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Steve chuckles but otherwise stays quiet. 

When you’re done with most of the dishes and having packed up the few leftovers, you and Steve take your leave, walking back hand in hand in the silent darkness. 

Your Steve, you know him well. And you can tell, just by one look in his face that there’s a lot on his mind. You know better from experience that when he’s in such moods, it’s best to leave him alone. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind before bed, you know it for sure. 

So for now, you just walk home, swinging your joined hands back and forth as he’s lost in his own head. 

Done getting ready for bed, you slip under the covers, waiting for Steve to join you. You don’t have to wait long, just as you pick up your book for some reading before bed, he slips under the covers, snatching the book from your hand. Your protest is short lived as he pulls you close into a bruising kiss. 

His lips travel down your throat, trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone before you stop him as he moves to pull your silk slip over your head. 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet all evening,” you grab his cheek in your hand, making him look at you. 

He sighs loudly, moving away to sit back against the headboard. 

“C’mon Steve, tell me.” 

You move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Just as you’re about to urge him to say something he interrupts you. 

“Let’s have a baby.” 

You’re quiet for a while and he takes your silence as a request to continue. 

“It’s been on my mind for so long. We’ll start with one. For now. I can’t wait for our home to be filled with little ones. I just —I’ve been thinking of this for so long. The fact that Nat and Bucky are expecting just solidified my decision. Don’t you want a baby?” 

Swallowing, you plan out your words carefully before opening your mouth. 

“We’re not ready Stevie. You know this. We’ve been married what, a year now? I thought we decided to wait,” you try. 

“But I don’t want to wait anymore! Can’t you see? There’s no time like now to start trying,” he raises his voice and you flinch away from him. 

“I don’t know Stevie. I’m really tired, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” 

“No!” He shouts, “I want to talk about this now. We’re ready. I know we’re ready,” he reaffirms, grabbing you by your arms to hold you close. 

“Steve, we’re not. We’re nowhere ready for a baby. We’ve just begun saving, can we even support a child right now?” You try to make him see some sense but it backfires tremendously. 

“Really? I work so hard for you, for us, but that’s not enough for you, is it? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?” His tone and his hurtful words immediately cause your eyes to fill, a couple errant tears slipping down. His grip on you is painful, almost bruising.

At the sight of your eyes brimming, tears streaking their way down your pretty face, his anger dissipates and his face fills with worry. He moves forward to cup your face in his hands, but you flinch away from him, pulling the covers back and stepping out of bed with your pillow in hand. 

“I-uh- I’ll take the couch,” you stutter out, sniffling between every word. 

“No, no, no. Baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, please come back to bed,” he says, scrambling out of bed as you continue towards the door. 

“No, please baby. I’m sorry, please come back to bed,” he pleads, getting on his knees in front of you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you in place, his chin resting on your soft stomach. 

He looks up at you with eyes quickly filling with tears, threatening to overflow. Your heart melts at the sight and you close your eyes, nodding your head slowly and he sighs, burying his face into your stomach, his tears causing your slip to dampen slightly. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry,” his voice comes out muffled but you understand him anyway. 

You nod your head, telling him you’ll think about kids. You really would. That night he held you close after making love to you, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip out into the darkness in the middle of the night. He whispered the deepest of apologies and praises into your ear as he drew orgasm after orgasm from your prone body. 

You knew he regrets what he said. You were well aware that he wanted a big family. Growing up, it had always been just him and his Ma. His father was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too drunk to care about much. He aspired to be everything that his father wasn’t, a real family man. 

And you know you want to give him that but you need some time, you haven’t even been married that long. And you will think about it much more seriously now. What’s wrong with having a child? He works so hard for you, to make sure you’re not left needing anything, can’t you do at least this much for him? You’re home all day anyway, it’s not like you have a job like Nat. Plus, you’re lucky to have him and that he cares about you and what you want. Most men wouldn’t have bothered asking their wives if and when they wanted children. You find your resolve weakening. You will tell him that you’re ready to start trying and it’s unlikely you will fall pregnant on the first try. You have some time, you tell yourself all the while trying to smother that voice inside you that whispers, ‘You should wait’. 

[teewritessmth]

Beta squad as dads

Warnings : None

Niko Omilana -

⇒ QOTD, Niko as a boy dad.

⇒ Sheds an ocean of tears when his son was born, still swears to this day that he didn't cry. (George has it on cameras from 3 different angles)

⇒ Niko isn't the type to nap very often, but when he does it's always with his son on his chest. Whenever the baby is feeling ill or needs someone, his dad is always there.

⇒ As your baby grows into his toddler phase, the boys have playful fights to see who gets to sleep in the middle. With Niko winning (no surprise in that) but having to give up his place for a very cute, pouting baby. (100% has your face and adorable smile.)

⇒ Niko almost jumped over the moon when his son made a dad joke. He was following in his dad's footsteps after all.

Sharky -

⇒ The first thing i can think about is Sharky making tiktoks with your twins as soon as they learn to make any kind of movement. He would then add his own steps and post it for everyone else to see.

⇒ Would put his kids on the couch and start talking to them. The boys are still so young, but there's nothing else they love than yapping with their amazing dad. (Even if he doesn't understand al that baby blabber.)

⇒ As they (VERY QUICKLY) reach their toddler phase, they guard Sharky. Not a joke, like GUARD him 24/7. They wouldn't let you go anywhere near him or let you scold him. The grin on his face when all of this happens is unbearable (but you love your family so much)

⇒ Not to worry tho, the babies eventually turn around and make you their favourite parent. A very wild day in your household (according to Sharky)

⇒ 100% gets his sons the same kit he wears while playing football. Boots too if possible. Your dreams of being a football mom and a football wife do come true after all :))

Aj Shabeel -

⇒ His daughter is his twin. She STOLE thoses gorgeous, curly locks from Aj.

⇒ Maybe this was fate (Cruelty according to Aj) but Niko is her favourite uncle. (Understandable, Same.) Thus naturally, she spends a lot of time with Niko's son.

⇒ Often punches Niko on the arm due to the occasional jokes he makes about getting their children married to one other so he can be related to Aj.

⇒ BEST.GIRL.DAD. He lets his daughter do any makeover she wants on him. Be it braiding his hair, painting his nails, playing dollhouse or throwing a tea party. Aj is always your daughter's number one supporter.

⇒ Having 2 Ajs in the house can be crazy at times, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

Chunkz -

⇒ Another Girl Dad. (Girl Dads forever)

⇒Both of them love singing together. Carpool karaoke, singing while doing ousework, singing while outside. The father - daughter duo manage to do it all.

⇒ Chunkz is SUPER proud of his kid. She wins prizes in the most random things scaling from sports to trivia. Who wouldn't be proud to father a young prodigy.

⇒ Loves baking with his baby girl. They make all sorts of pastries and desserts. Every single birthday you've had so far definitely had a contribution from one of their baking projects.

⇒ Top 10 moments in your life.

Kenny -

⇒ Has one son. Surprisingly a very energetic kid compared to his dad who is more laidback and chill.

⇒They do pushups together, Kenny tries explaining the importance of physical health quite early on to his child. (Pretends to not see his son using his knees as support during pushups. cmon he's 6 :(( )

⇒ Super proud dad when his son whisks you away from any man trying to make convo with you, let alone hit on you. If you didn't know this was Kenny's son at this point, you would've now. Both of them are very overprotective of you.

⇒ Your son brings you snacks, rubs your shoulders when you're tired, pulls your chair for you and fills your water bottles. You get worried sometimes that he might be doing too much as a kid, but your son won't have it any other way.

⇒ At the end of the day, your boys love you and spoil you to death. Two gentlemen residing with a lovely lady in the Ojuederie household.

[blueberryarchive]

RECORDING (+18)

Were you move in to Montenegro Hills. A peaceful neighborhood with caring neighbors and walking dogs at 6pm.

The night of the welcome party, you meet Park Jimin: the president of the neighborhood committee. After a few shots and a little bit of flirting, he makes a proposal you thought you'll never hear from anyone in your life.

▶pairing; stalker!jimin x fem!reader

▶word count; 13.4k

▶genre: 80's au, enemies and lovers, thriller

▶tw; grammar mistakes (english is not my first language), horny!jimin all the way, your boy Hoseok it's a freak too, gore scenes (blood, wounds, death, descriptions of pain and bodily fluids), toxic relationship, smut (dub-con/non-con, penetration, knife play, degrading names, manhandling, spanking, fingering, choking, mating position) everyone in here is a piece of shit ngl, misogyny, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

▶playlist; 📼

Record, the verb, comes from the word cor or cord in Latin, which means heart or remember, which in itself is beautiful. To repeat over and over again, to keep track of it, to save it in the memory. Save is one of his favorite words to describe what he does. Salvus as in to keep safe, in both senses. 

There's nothing more precious to him than his collection of VHS tapes in the little room in the hall. All were put in alphabetical order and cleaned every Friday when he was free from work.

To watch every movie again and again, to remember the little details to heart, the dialogues, the gestures; he loved it. He loved taking care of it.

Now, it was Friday and, you see, as he was in the row from D to H, he heard one of the most precious pieces close the door abruptly of her Ford Cortina, just right outside of his house. He walked slowly through the hall of the rather dark place, the curtains were closed most of the time. His neighbors took it for privacy. 

Jimin was a very quiet and sheltered man, but he was very polite and helpful. Always there in Montenegro's activity programs, charity funds, birthdays, and Christmas parties. He helped with the food, made the kids laugh, and the wives adored him. Jimin was the best neighbor, and he worked hard for it. 

As he moved closer, his finger brushed the hem of the curtain in the living room, letting the sunlight paint a streak across his face. His eye settled on your feet, more like the heels. Who moved in with heels on?

You were wearing slingback pumps and a little pencil skirt, coming straight from work. Tired and all sweaty in the middle of the summer, when people remember why they don't like the heat in the first place. Jimin enjoyed it. It made people come out of their houses and forage for a little bit of shadow and conversation.

The white blouse you wore, had a little white bow that made you look like a dainty Victorian doll. The translucent blobs forming under your armpits were beginning to drip sweat down the sides of your ribs. You took a small carry-on suitcase from the co-pilot and closed the door putting on your dark, cat-shaped sunglasses. Chanel, so you also had money. The prices in Montenegro are not cheap by any means, but the people here are all so subtle in the ways they show it, with guilt and tight lips. But you weren't afraid to show that you could afford things, that maybe you loved the sound of pearls on your wrists and the sweet smell of Angel by Mugler on your clothes.

If he wasn't in his pajamas, Jimin would have opened his door to introduce himself just to let his nose feel the pleasure of your aroma in that heat.

Jimin knew that you were going fast and that you didn't want anyone to know about your arrival until you were in better condition. He looked at his wristwatch, it was barely five in the afternoon, and he didn't know if there was time. 

One way or the other.

He grabbed the corded phone near his couch and plopped down crossing his legs. With one hand he dialed a number so quickly that his fingers seemed to move automatically.

With the other, he searched for a roll in his work suitcase. It took less than the ringing of the call to put the film into the camera, a '72 Olympus, a beauty that belonged to his mother.

"Mm." answered a scratchy voice, Hoseok wasn't in the mood and that wasn't a good start.

"Hoseok, I need you to convince Nancy to have a party tonight, well, maybe not tonight but-." he put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking to the window. You were still inside, but the Cortina door was still open.

"What do you want me to do? She won't do anything until she's six months in." Hoseok exhaled. "Why a party? Who is it this time?"

Jimin wrinkled his nose, focusing the camera just as you went out to close the door. A single suitcase of clothes, your Chanel glasses, and your blurred lipstick. You were a work of art, he had to convince Hoseok to create an excuse.

"Park," Hoseok mumbled as the bustle of his office sounded on the other end of the line.

"Let's meet the new neighbor."

"Neighbor? I haven't heard Nancy speak of a neighbor at any time."

Click, just as you close the door. Click, the strokes of your hands and your quick steps.

"I'm seeing her now."

"Now? Is she already with you?" Hoseok sounded hurt, offended. His annoyance changed to a muffled, nasal voice.

"No, I wouldn't meet anyone without you, Jung." Jimin chuckled, his cheekbones popping with the jeer in his voice. "She's in front, where the Jimenez used to live."

"Yeah, okay—You better not." Hoseok interrupted.

Jimin closed the curtain and looked at the door at the end of the hall, three locks keeping it secure.

"So will you talk to Nancy?"

"Let's see, the hormones have her in a frenzy and she still forbids me to even drink, smoke or fuck her. I'm going insane." Nancy was Hoseok's wife, she was a sweet and calm girl, she always smiled and her voice reminded Jimin a lot of Shelley Duvall. A sheep with deep black eyes, like two dark lakes. She was Hoseok's jewel. Park didn't believe how sweet Hoseok could be with her, knowing how he could be outside his bubble, he pampered her fervently and always saw her like searching for scrapes and bruises.

Jung Hoseok was the perfect husband. Handsome and caring, made everyone light up with his contagious laughs.

They were one of the most beloved couples in Montenegro. Nancy was in charge, not officially but popularly, as the person who organized the parties. They were always the best. The best-grilled meats, iced tea, and the best conversations after a mojito or two. It was in these places that Jimin caught the big fish. But since Nancy's pregnancy, things have been quiet in the Jung household.

Nancy had become paranoid, barely leaving the house, walking around the patio of her house barefoot and in nightgowns. The women of her family tended to lose pregnancies easily, and every time she had a pregnant friend, or anyone for that matter, she treated them like porcelain, hundreds of tips on how to take care came out of her heart-shaped lips.

Now that it's her turn to be the pregnant one, she doesn't wear tight clothes and doesn't go upstairs. She eats hot things if Hoseok cooks because she's afraid of the stove. She thinks that her body, due to an uncontrolled impulse, will throw itself into the flames.

Convincing her wouldn't be easy, but Jimin hadn't seen her neighbors in a while, and seeing you caused his chest to shrink with curiosity. You were attractive, even when you thought you weren't.

Hours passed without any sign of life, dead hours in which Jimin decided to work on developing the photos he had taken of you. The pungent smell of vinegar and chemicals in the small room bathed in red light. His hands covered in black latex immersed the piece of paper in the water until the image appeared like a cloud of grays: your face, your hands, your hair sweating. Such a recent memory and he had already missed it.

He held the photo closer to the hanging light bulb, it was perfect. Even though it had come out a little blurry, he told himself that it made him want to have it more, the two minutes it had taken you to get there, close the windows, take out your suitcase, and look around you were fleeting. So having a small detail, like a photograph of a bird that was believed to be extinct or that of a very distant planet. He began to be fond of your nebulous figure.

His first frame of you.

Two clamps held the material on the cord so it could finish drying. The ringing of the phone brought Jimin out of his hedonism, he didn't wait for it to ring twice. Now, the words Hoseok said as he picked up the phone made the man smile.

"Saturday, 6 p.m. At my house." God bless Hoseok's convincing tactics. He must have made up an article in the newspapers about how Boston University theorized that a lack of communication with the outside world could cause hormonal problems and even affect the psyche of the fetus.

Wait…Saturday?

"You say tomorrow? It's too early, I don't have anything prepared yet."

Hoseok laughed. "No, moron, next week."

Jimin took off his gloves, disappointed with how little effort his partner had put into his work.

"That's a whole week away."

"You should suck my dick for getting something in the next four months."

"If you weren't as useless and ate her out, you would have had it by this Sunday, at least."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, twirling a pen in his fingers. His eyes were arranged in a corner of his office, and with a sigh, his legs spread out. "Describe her to me."

Jimin smiled searching for a cigarette in the kitchen, the phone in his hand, the cord jumping a little by his steps. He switched the phone to his other ear as he turned on the tip. "She's not a Maeve, she's not your typical Montenegro mom, maybe more like a workaholic like Charlie."

"Any children?" Hoseok interrupted excitedly.

"No, I don't think so. She has a very… disorganized style for being a mom."

"Divorcee?"

"I don't think this woman spent more than six months with the same man." Both men laughed, Jimin brought the cigarette to his mouth but stopped mid-action when he saw a shadow pass through the living room window. "Wait." Jimin put down the phone and walked into the hallway. The VHS were arranged, shiny and neat, on the right shelf.

They hadn't knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Jimin raised his shoulders tensely. It was you? Could it be true that Jimin was lucky enough to not have to poison you with chemicals until he dragged you into his bed? That he didn't need Hoseok's charms to convince you that what they were doing was sick, but he just needed a little alcohol, a little bit of will from you, too.

He walked quickly to the door and opened the handle with so much pressure that it made noise. The young girl on the other side of the door flinched, opening her eyes like a frightened bird before smiling at the man who was sweating at the front door. 

This is Cosette, for the second time this week.

If Jimin didn't know how to control himself, Cosette would have been planted in the garden serving as fertilizer a long time ago. He fervently hated teenagers, of all types: athletic ones, Star Wars fans, those who went to his movie theater to make out with their boyfriends for the three hours of the Gone With the Wind special, those who drove in their parents' Chevelle speeding through the streets; all of them. Especially those from Montenegro.

Cosette wasn't part of any of the groups mentioned, but don't let her think that Jimin hated her any less. Cosette, who had a strange taste in everything, including her social circle, was at her door. Her hair was always in a high bun, her bangs covered her forehead, a jean jacket that hid her body, and bright pink lips that made Park's eyes water.

She always carried something new with her, something for Jimin to notice and talk about. This time, she had a kerchief tied around her head colored in a nauseating green. She smiled even more when she saw that Jimin was only wearing an unbuttoned t-shirt.

He looked in the direction of your house, the curtains still closed. Shit.

"Cosette," he greeted her, pressing his lips into a smile. He refused to look at her bow so she wouldn't mention it either.

"Mr. Park, today is Friday. I wanted to bring you the films you lent me so you can clean them up and keep them organized." Her voice was tremulous as she blatantly looked at Jimin's arms and chest.

"Thank you," his eyes narrowed as he held up the stack of rectangular drawers his neighbor handed him. "I'll definitely have something by Cronenberg or Kubrick for you next week."

Cosette blushed aggressively. "Dad says Kubrick is just an excuse to watch women being-"

Her words stuck in her throat as Jimin's dark pupils sat on her features, lips slightly parted.

"It's sex, Cosette." Jimin exhaled, leaving the VHS on a table. "Nothing is going to happen to you if you see it, much less if you say it." His hand went to the girl's shoulder, her fingers curling around themselves anxiously.

"Yes, obviously. I know that. " The girl looked down, letting silence cover time. "Do you think I can help you with cleaning your collection this week?"

Jimin smiled sweetly and denied. This was Cosette's way of wanting to interfere in his life or maybe she thought something would happen if she stood in the middle of his living room and closed the door. What a poor fool, she really made him feel sorry for her. That's why he tried to find a healthier and legal connection.

Jimin lent him five movies to watch from Monday to Friday. They all had a theme: Italian horror, neosurrealism, buddy films, western, romance…

She watched them all religiously. Sometimes she even took advantage and went to the cinema to watch it even when she had the same movie at her house. Just to see Jimin.

"Sorry, darling. I already finished doing that this morning."

"Oh, I understand." Cosette nodded stupidly quickly, taking a step back. "It's okay, Mr. Park."

"See you on Monday."

Colette did not respond, raising a hand as she turned her face away to get away as quickly as possible from the shame that consumed her. A small mocking laugh appeared on Jimin's lips and he took out his hidden arm from behind the door, revealing the disintegrating cigarette.

His heart dropped to his stomach when his eyes flicked to your porch and there you were, in the same position as him. Cigarette hanging from your lips, your damp hair combed back and eyeliner singed into your dark circles.

Not at all a mother from Montenegro, not a daughter, not even the whores that the divorced men brought in looked as broken and disoriented as you. Jimin’s heart pounded when your eyes never left his as you took a drag. Smoke billowing out of your nose. You didn't smile or extend your hand to say hello like a good neighbor, instead, you looked at Jimin suspiciously, closing the door seconds later.

Jimin raised his eyebrow. What had he done? Worried, he closed the door quickly, head resting on the wood. He cursed Cosette under his breath as he walked to the phone in the kitchen.

"Hoseok?"

"Don't tell me. Marcus' little girl."

"I get a headache every time I hear her babbling."

"Don't be so cruel, she admires you a lot."

Jimin closed his eyes, your gaze had hurt his fragile ego, and he had to know why you were so hostile between two and a half puffs of your cigarette.

That week was about to be lethargy, hell, Dante's tenth circle.

Day 1

Movie in theaters: Ghostbusters The curtains are still closed, I can see your silhouette at night, and the lights you use are dim. Halogen, you like calm environments, corners covered in soft shadows. You play music from the moment you get home from work, 5:15 without fail; you usually leave it on when you leave again.  Every day, you come back with a paper bag, I assume with groceries. 5.45. You are wearing a leotard in one of those colors that Cosette likes so much. Perky titties bouncing while you take down the porch stairs;; couldn't help but take some pictures. You exercise until 6:40, then, ironically, smoke a cigarette or two in the yard. Smiling at people while pearls of sweat dribble down to your cleavage. Zuri is the first one of the committee to see you and waves her hand with curiosity. You two talk for a little. I'm here wishing I could read lips, but even with a thorough education, yours will need a whole degree only for me to concentrate on not kissing them. I go to sleep at 11:30, one glass of whiskey and half a joint I stole from Marcus months ago. I dream of eating you out through a small cut in your leotard, sweat dripping down your body to mine. You whimper, but I can't hear you.

Day 2

Movie in theaters: Friday The 13th: Part IV At 6:25 in the morning, I wake up to the sound of your heels going down the stairs to get to your car. I can't get up fast enough to see what you're wearing for me today. You accelerate quickly, you don't care if you wake up the neighbors. You don't come back all day. After work, I watch one of my films on TV until I fall asleep, Birdie's laughter drowns out my curiosity as I doze. 5:15, you're not home from work. Maybe you went out of state, considering how you dress, you seem like a busy woman. I thought about the clicking heels and imagined your foot stepping on my erection. I go outside to calm my thoughts. One thing led to another, and without knowing it I find myself in your backyard. You're not stupid, all the doors and windows are closed; curtains included. But you don't know who I am still, what I need about you.

Day 3

Movie in theaters: The Evil That Men Do 4:55. I'm at the Millers' house, they've invited me to check out their new screen and sound system. Watching a movie with them, but due to August Miller's silent decision, we ended up at the outside bar, drunk on mojitos and pina coladas that Lou Miller learned to make with a cassette he bought at the supermarket. The cocktails are very sugary, but they help clear my head. I find myself sitting steps away from Mr. Miller. I tell him I'm writing notes for a new review in the newspaper, but all I can think about is your absence all day. There is no news from you, and I am afraid that you have decided to leave the house. I don't understand, the house is adorable. Too big for one person, but the Jiménez filled it with pets and children in less than two years. It has off-white floors and large windows to let in the light. A huge patio and pool so you can indulge in leisure activities such as gardening and nudism. 00:13, you appear with your car lights off and your arms down. You carry the same paper bag in your hands, and I accidentally smile when I have your presence. I knew having a garden in your yard would convince you to come back.

Day 4

Movie in theaters: Footloose Something that my drunken brain from yesterday had forgotten to write down, that was overlooked, or that the mojitos simply erased from my memory. I managed to open a window in your backyard. Around 6, Lou Miller, in her forties, was no longer the same when drinking and it seemed she had forgotten because getting out of the pool she vomited every cocktail and every appetizer she had made for her husband and for me. Mr. Miller, due to his age and lack of exercise, had to leave the task of helping his wife up to the room to me. There, lying on the bed like some kind of rag doll passed out and with her vomit leaving a trace in her mouth, I thought of you. Maybe because this wasn't the first time a drunk and unconscious woman was in front of me or because she simply couldn't think of anything else. I went downstairs and said goodbye as decently as I could in my tipsy state. How strange it was to be drunk in the middle of a sunset. The days seem long and with you absent, God knows I need to at least get something that reminds me of you. You made things so difficult for me but I appreciated the detail, seriously. It's been a while since I enjoyed taking out my tools to open doors. People in Montenegro take security so lightly that I don't know how there hasn't been a massive burglary in every house. My arms wobbled and my cheeks burned. Half an hour later, I could hear the click that took me to your kitchen. I didn't do anything else, things had to go little by little between us, and I was willing to take it slowly for you. You're worth it.

Day 5

The night passed me like a breeze, it hit me like a stone on my temples. The nauseating taste of alcohol and sugar on my palate. Surely my face was swollen and that wouldn't help my next plan. The mirror showed me dark circles and short red marks on my ribs and chest. Going over your fences left me like shit. I put on some sunglasses and walked to my garden, I had been negligent with my roses and grass since your arrival. I had to make a good impression, and that was the first thing you saw of me. And this is where my conversion to religion begins. The first thing I hear is those low heels, the red ones you wore the first day, then Poison by Dior collided on my sensitive, hungover nose. That aroma was so familiar, maybe Zuri or maybe on Marcus's ex's boudoir. The conversation was like out of nowhere passing through the thin fresh humidity of a cloud, I remember nothing but the white and the voice of a seraphic being speaking to me.

"Don't you think it's pretty cloudy?" It was the first thing you let out of your angelic lips. Jimin closed his eyes and let a small shy smile appear as he turned around.

You had your hair back, revealing your entire face while you squeezed your eyes shut looking at the sky. A steaming mug in hand, a floral dress that almost reached your knees.

"Good mor-"

"For sunglasses, I mean." You interrupted, bringing the cup to your mouth. Chocolate, he smelled. You weren't one to drink coffee in the morning, noted.

"I try not to let my neighbors understand how hungover I am this morning."

You weren't one of the shy ones, he knew it from the moment you looked at him talking to Cosette and he loved that. You weren't wearing a ring either, noted.

You laughed at your neighbor's confession, Park's chest widened as he inhaled the sweet melody of your laughter. What if he confessed more things to you and you ended up fucking your hungover neighbor in the garage?

"Park," he raised his hand, and you raised yours squeezing lazily while still looking at him. "Jimin Park, I'm the president of the neighborhood committee, I also write reviews for The Hours."

"Good representation of what awaits me on Saturday."

Jimin raised his eyebrow at him. He was supposed to be the one inviting you, he would come to your door with good wine and his expensive perfume on to ask you to crash a party a couple of doors down, something "impromptu."

"Ah yes, that." Park licked his lips turning off the sprinkler.

“Aren’t you going?” Was that disappointment in your voice? Oh, honey...

"It wouldn't be a party without me"

"I see that." You pointed to his glasses again. The third joke about his hangover, you were nervous.

You just looked for an excuse to see him closer, and he had to respect your courage, it would have taken him a few more weeks, and after that, he ended things quickly after convincing his... how to put it? Muse? To leave it as it is.

"Well, I have to go, Park, but it was a pleasure. See you Saturday night."

"At the Jung's house, at 8."

You smirked, your eyes taking one more scan of the boy's body before turning around and walking to your car. Your hips moved soft and firm with each step, you worked for it and he appreciated it.

Continuation of Jimin's diary. Day 5: Page crumpled and torn from the small notebook. Attached with adhesive tape.

Yes, yes, yes. I know I should have waited at least half an hour for you to leave the area to go to the back door, but seeing you up close, smelling you, and hearing your voice. They were simply the last stop on my patience. I was walking through the small forest behind your house, the path was muddy under my boots and the sky threatened to break into thick drops. I prayed that it was true so that it would cover up the evidence of yesterday and today. I opened the door again with ease and entered your kitchen, closing the door softly. You still had things in boxes and my hands were tingling to open them, but I'm smarter than that. I didn't waste time and went up to your room. I came for something, then when you invite me to dinner or watch a movie I can have the pleasure of admiring your home. I looked in the drawers, under the bed, and in the closet. Here is the list of things I took that I know you would only assume were lost in the move: a red lipstick from the Besame brand, some used black panties with a small bow in the center, a white photo of you and black, a key that I found under a chest full of rings. I have no reason to take a key without knowing what it is for, but the ribbon covered in river pearls from which it hung was so delicate that I smiled thinking of you decorating something so simple. Now, I write these pages because I have arrived safely at my desk, with all things in hand. But I must say that you gave me a tremendous scare when you arrived at the house without the vehicle. I heard banging downstairs, and the hissing of keys. Luckily I was able to escape out the window that looked right into the pine trees behind the neighborhood. I spent another hour walking around the steep path, admiring how the thick, century-old trunks swallowed me up. As I predicted, the sky turned black. The last rains of September cleaned everything I left behind. I put my hands inside my pocket and took out the panties that I had wrapped delicately. I opened them like a letter as the rain soaked my body and the fabric in my hands further. I brought its center to my face and inhaled deeply, letting my back fall onto a log. Pungent and strong was your taste, I gripped the material in my teeth as I desperately undid my pants. It's the first time I've tasted you and I couldn't contain myself for long, the rain drowning out my moans as whitish streams fell on the wet earth.

There is no collection from day 6, a simple crumpled sheet, previously wet with an unidentified liquid (among the possibilities tears, stolen perfume, human remains), marked with a lipstick that Jimin wrote with hearts in the 'i's.

If there was something that surprised Jimin every time, it was the way Nancy could prepare a party in such a short time. Her backyard became a show under incandescent light bulbs and freshly cut grass.

Jimin stepped on the silage with guilt because of how perfect it was. He looked at his white suede shoes, removing a leaf that settled on them. He wanted to be impeccable. He had cut his hair past his ears and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt tight on his arms and chest with the words: 'LOVE 1984' by Yves Saint Laurent. His biceps were something to talk about and Nancy didn't let it go unnoticed.

"Is there anyone special coming today, Park?" Her honeyed and soft voice approached Jimin, offering him the first cocktail of the night. Unlike Mrs. Miller's, Nancy's coconut mojitos were the best.

"I don't know, that's the wonderful thing about your parties. The last one the Bee Gees didn't come through that door because Jung wouldn't let you pay for it." They both laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say the Bee Gees." She thought about it, maybe he would bring them next summer. "Cher, I love Cher. I know a friend from college who has her number."

"For God's sake, Nan."

Jimin smiled again, looking at Nancy's profile: her face was as delicate as her voice. Her hooked nose curved gently and her lips pursed, seeing what else he could arrange before the others arrived. Her hand unconsciously caresses her visibly bulging stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Nancy's eyes sparkled at the mention of her fetus. She denied it.

"Zuri is planning to hold a small celebration for me to tell me my gender in a few days."

"Ah, another party. This is where Sonny and Cher show up to say she's a girl."

Hoseok came out wearing an apron that blatantly said 'Kiss the Cook' and a pile of bloody, seasoned meats on a plate. The grill in front of him waved a nice heat as the first piece sizzled.

"You know I can't live without a good celebration." Nancy stepped back, gravitating away from the heat of the fire. "I'm going to see if I can help Lucy with the canapes."

Nancy turned around smiling an apology at Jimin who reciprocated. Without wasting time, he pulled a Marlboro out of his jeans and approached Hoseok, enjoying the warmth that covered his torso. Hoseok held a piece of bright red charcoal and brought it close to his partner's cigarette until he lit it.

"She did it again, the patio is beautiful."

"You know my Nana just needed a good excuse." Hoseok smiled, holding up the cigarette to take a drag. "Ever since I mentioned there was a new single woman in the neighborhood, they went crazy."

"Have you seen her yet?" He was somewhat suspicious that Hoseok had beaten him to invite her to his barbecue. Make no mistake, the party was the Jungs', but the purpose of the party was so that Jimin could meet you. The plan didn't work unless Jimin said it was going to happen, Hoseok was part of them but only as a proxy.

Luckily for Jimin, Hoseok shook his head in disappointment, looking at the grill.

"I heard she looked like a slut waiting to get paid for a blowjob on the sidewalk in a yellow leotard."

"Pink." Jimin interrupted, irritated by the words, sipping the mojito until he finished it. "Who told you that? Zuri?"

The day Jimin saw them talking, Zuri was wearing a friendly smile and you two had a small conversation.

"No, of course not. Zuri just said that she came home from the gym and the others-"

"Maeve," Jimin mumbled, setting the glass aside.

Hoseok smiled. "You know this happens to everyone who arrives, it happened to me and Nancy, to Marcus, to the Espositos for being Catholic in a place like Montenegro."

Christopher Esposito was a father at St. Eliam's Chapel, a small white building where few in the neighborhood went. It was California and people only believed in themselves. But, of course, Nancy had to invite them. Well, religion is not religion at the end of the day, but status.

Coming back to you.

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But not beautiful in the aesthetic sense, there is something about her eyes."

Like you know something Jimin doesn't.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him flipping the cuts.

"Fuck, she has you in the palm of her hand."

Jimin denied listening to the commotion coming in and talking inside the house. "Tonight I will be the one who will have it in mine."

There you were, in a black high-necked dress and black boots. You smiled at everyone and shook your hand.

For a second, when Jimin brought his cigarette to his lips, you looked at him. He to you. Both smiled before each one went back to his work.

Let the show begin.

Glasses slowly piled up on the wooden table that Nancy had impeccably decorated about four hours ago, plates with bones and half-eaten vegetables.

The music was loud but the voices shouting stories from the past about alcoholism and deranged adolescence were even louder.

Jimin was sitting next to the unlit grill, the subtle smell of burning charcoal and meat had him nauseous. He brought his knuckles to his lower lip as he watched you talking to Hoseok and Nancy, an impeccable smile on your lips, you looked like a little angel; anyone would steal you from that place. 

Several of the husbands had taken a glance or two at your legs and swallowed your flirtatious, drunken laughter. You only drank wine and the tinted mark of alcohol covered your lips. So kissable and unattainable.

Hoseok had already taken a look at your hands, they were one of his favorite features. Luckily for him, your hands were decorated with rings and varnish the color of the wine you drank.

Nancy laughed at a joke you said, you blinked slowly looking at the woman in front of you with the concentration that only being drunk gives you. Hoseok looked back and nodded at Jimin. It was time.

"Could you get our guest another glass of wine, love?" Hoseok took your glass and Nancy nodded still laughing at the story you told her about your childhood.

Hoseok placed a hand on your back guiding you through the people. You let him, who knew that a couple of drinks could give you so much fluidity?

Still, you felt this tickling in your neck since you arrived.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok was one of those men that you watched your friend marry and sometimes you wished you had that kind of stability. Nice, he made you laugh, he protected you.

You nodded to the question.

"I'll introduce you to a few committee members, they're excited to meet you."

They both made way for a blonde woman with eyes so blue that you couldn't stop looking at them throughout the conversation, the green shadow on her eyelids was so singed that it looked like a healing bruise.

"This is Maeve."

"Oh, dear, welcome." Her body felt tense in the hug she offered you.

When she let you go, she once again engineered that smile that seemed to hurt her to extend. You looked where her gaze was guided: two children dressed alike were running around near the pool.

"Come back here." She murmured, pointing to the area where the other children were.

"Maeve is in charge of children's events and birthdays. She is an artist."

"Oh, Hoseok, please." Maeve rolled her eyes at her enjoying the compliment. "Why didn't you bring your children, dear?"

"I don't have any, work won't let me." You smiled. Maeve raised her eyebrows.

"And your husband, he also works a lot? He should have at least stopped by to say hello-"

"There is no husband either."

Hoseok licked his lips enjoying the shock on Maeve's face.

"Oh okay." She laughed softly, fixing his pearl necklace. "I mean, things aren't like they used to be." Maeve sought support from Hoseok. You also looked at the man next to you who almost choked in his drink.

"America," Hoseok explained, taking a swig of brandy that made his nose wrinkle.

"God, yes. It's like it doesn't belong to the man anymore." You laughed hard, you didn't know where so much energy came from but you were static, you could feel every look and every touch.

Every look.

"California has become Sodom in just ten years."

"Oh, there's Zuri and Charlie!"

Hoseok grabbed your arm and dragged you away from Maeve's quips. Two women were sitting near the pool, the black woman fixed her glasses and continued the conversation. Her hands were intertwined with the brunette's in front of her. You didn't want to interrupt but Hoseok didn't give you time.

"This is Zuri and Charlie Munson."

The hairs on the back of your neck perked up as you heard another voice behind you. You couldn't tilt your head because the two women stopped to shake your hand. He was just who you wanted to see.

"You came," you mumbled to Jimin as you squeezed the taller girl's hand. She was beautiful.

"Charlie, this is our new neighbor." Jimin placed both hands on your shoulders, massaging discreetly. You were breathing hard as you tried to hide a smile. The pads of his fingers hit the tense spots.

Charlie was tall, the square glasses covering half of her face. Seeing Jimin, her calm expression soured. You gave her your hand and smiled at Zuri who stood behind her like a little girl.

"Charlie's a lawyer, in case you one day end up getting a DUI like me." Jimin laughed, you didn't know if it was a joke. If you saw Zuri's reaction, yes. If you saw Charlie's, well he had simply said that he ran over a child or something.

"Zuri is-"

"I already met Zuri on one of my outings to my patio."

"Oh perfect." You smelled divine and the brandy was starting to feel like the plan could go well without the help...no, in fact, without Jung's presence.

"I work for Martines & Sons," Charlie spoke again.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise still with Charlie's hand in yours.

"Martines & Sons, you're not just any lawyer then. I know one of the sons, David has told me a lot about you." You responded. Charlie smiled proudly, fixing her glasses. Was that blush Jimin saw on Charlotte Munson's cheekbones? Oh, you were a top whore, you flirted with Charlie in front of her own wife and poor Zuri didn't notice.

You and Charlie lasted a short silence smiling at each other.

"Zuri is a piano teacher." his wife stammered, letting the woman with the long, poorly dyed hair shake your hand. She wore necklaces of different colors and a ring that almost covered her index finger with a purple stone. "She graduated from Stanford."

Barely, Jimin told himself.

Before they can continue the conversation, Maeve calls out to the two women. Perfect.

The music was loud enough for Jimin to have the excuse of brushing your ear with his swollen lips from biting them so much.

"That's Marcus," he murmured, letting the warmth of his breath caress your lobe. You closed your hands into a fist, wetness pooling instantly inside your silk underwear.

Marcus was like a Jesus if he had become a writer. His hairy knuckles held a cigarette about to burn his skin, he didn't talk to anyone but instead admired the water of the pool in silence.

“That's his daughter, Cosette,” Jimin's palm guided your hip to the kitchen window. You were so drunk that Jimin didn't have to do much to make your physiognomy move, like wet clay between his calloused fingers.

"Victor Hugo fan?"

"Don't even try to do it, he'll spend hours talking to you about Les Misérables." They both laughed in a drunken stupor. Like two boys gossiping.

Cosette was wearing a plaid skirt and blue eyeshadow. To attract attention this time she had put on red lipstick.

Seeing Jimin, she raised her hand and smiled, revealing her silver braces.

No, she was too shy to greet Jimin like that.

You greeted her with both hands so he could see you better in the darkness on that side.

"Ah, you know her."

"Yes, I almost crashed into the poor thing at midnight when she was running away from her house." Monday the 17th, you arrived at 12:13 that night. Anyway, it wasn't logical for you to be out at midnight.

"I didn't consider her one of those who ran away at night."

"Sometimes it can get lonely, doesn't it?" You both looked at each other at the same time, your cold knuckles pinching your lips.

Hoseok was nowhere to be found and Jimin's cock was already starting to hurt under those tight jeans.

Fuck it.

"You don't need to go to be with little Cosette to feel accompanied." Jimin rolled his eyes, the iridescence of the water reflecting on his face and you felt the wine line your blood. The tickling behind your neck subsided and you could only think about those high, rosy cheekbones that you wanted to nibble on ever since you saw them.

"I don't feel alone now."

"And in your house?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Surprisingly, at home, I feel like I have someone else. In the hallways behind me, behind the curtain when I shower, in the corner of my bed when I go to sleep."

A cheeky smile spread across your face, Jimin swallowed, pulling out a cigarette.

"Ghosts," he rolled his eyes playfully. "The worst plague."

You stole the cigarette from Jimin's hands and lit it with the lighter you had inside your left boot.

"What do you say, Park? Do you have ghosts in your hallways while you go to pour your coffee?"

If you only knew, love.

"Unlike you, no one loves me enough to haunt me even in my dreams."

Your eyes fell after two drags, on the third you stopped at your chest and held the cheeks of the boy next to you, your crimson nails squeezing gently letting Jimin's lips bulge allowing you to pass the cold smoke to his lips.

"Hmm," Jimin groaned, letting the air come out of his nose in frustration. He closed his eyes and opened them gently until he looked at your pupils dilated and determined for the next step.

This is the first time Jimin has asked the question instead of Hoseok, who from his mouth didn't sound so creepy. But the unfortunate man was busy playing a game of poker with the other parents. Now that little Jung came to the family, Jimin, and his hobbies were something that Hoseok apparently wanted to put behind him, he wanted to become a suburban father.

"Have you ever been recorded...um-" Jimin swallowed hard, moving closer to hide in the shadows of the night. "Doing it?"

You tilted your head back to look at Jimin again, he wasn't playing around. You lifted the corners of your lips, a husky laugh on your part.

“You fucking freak” You scoffed.

"I can show you my films if you want to."

"Yeah, sure-" you huffed, taking a step back.

"Pick one." Jimin took your arm, the look in his eyes was daring. "Pick someone here. Anyone."

Your gaze rolled around the party until it stopped at the sweet Maeve who was singing karaoke next to her husband, a martini in her hands. Surprisingly, Maeve was a crowd favorite.

Jimin smiled evilly. "Do you want to know if Mrs. Johnson enjoys being recorded?"

No, you wrinkled your nose.

Your eyes softened at the thought of Jimin arranging the camera to focus on Maeve's cobalt eyes, curiosity flowing faster than alcohol.

"I thought so." Jimin offered you his hand and surprisingly, yours landed on his before he could say no. "Be like the one she's had too much to drink, we need an excuse to get out of here."

In the end, Jimin was right. The only thing he needed to get you into his bed was a little alcohol and a little bit of you.

Jimin's house had so few lights that when you entered it took you a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The lamps illuminated the corners, the pieces of newspapers with his reviews on the living room wall, his photo on several of them.

Leaving the party wasn't as difficult as they both thought because everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice his absence, even Hoseok who was winning his useless poker game.

Now you were with your legs crossed on the leather furniture, your boot clattered on the floor waiting for Jimin who was in the hallway, he had put on reading glasses that made him look older than he was but you loved thinking about that little girl. fantasy that he was about to give you a class.

Jimin muttered the letter M over and over again until he found Maeve between Mad Max and The Magnificent Seven. Handwritten with a green marker it said: Maeve: June 3rd, After the Twins' Birthday.

"Here it is." A nostalgic smile appeared on Jimin's face. You followed his steps with your eyes until you reached the small VCR in front of the television.

"It bothers you?" You took a joint out of your purse, but Jimin denied it, crawling to the furniture and positioning himself between your legs, his glasses reflecting a certain emotion that you couldn't decipher. But he looked comfortable, happy to be able to present one of his works, his hand caressing your thigh while he lit the joint.

"On the contrary, I believe that substance use enriches the experience." Now it was Jimin's turn to take your breath into his, but his hand was rough and he clenched your jaw to get you off. You didn't complain, that's how you liked it. "Speaking of substances, brandy?"

“Please,” you coughed, your eyes stinging. You looked around the room as he stood.

Jimin went to the open kitchen that joined the living room, his gaze and body were already adapted to the blackness of the apartment. There was only the light from the television and a small lamp at the end of the hallway that led to his study.

"Are you going to explain to me how you got frigid Maeve Johnson to let you do this or..."

"Of course, I just let Hoseok do the hard work of casting and convincing."

"Hoseok? Your neighbor Hoseok?"

"Yeah, he's like my producer if you want to call it that." The coppery liquid settled in the glasses, leaving a pleasant woody smell in the air.

"And what do you gain from that?"

Jimin turned around and looked at you impatiently.

"Have a drink before you start, it will surely be strong for you."

"You don't know me, Park." You responded, sitting closer to him to take the glass he offered you, a small drink.

It was enough.

Your swollen and tinted lips closed with his in a tender and passive kiss, Jimin breathed deeply without closing his eyes. He placed both glasses on the table without taking off his eyes of the screen and put his hands on your waist. The tips of his fingers touched your curves above the silk of his dress, turning from a caress to a rapture.

"Mphmf" You took off laughing a little, the weed had you smiling and Jimin loved that. He loved it when his girls started laughing sheepishly at their own fantasies.

"Shall we begin?" Jimin held the controller in his hands and pressed the button.

Hoseok is the first image you make out on the screen, his lips pursed as he fixes the camera.

"You're sure?" Could be heard behind the sudden movements of the camera.

"Mhm, it's just something I like to keep in case I want to see your face moaning my name again."

Hoseok takes off just as Maeve blushes and rolls her eyes at him. His movements were light, and his shoulders didn't seem as tense as those of the woman at the party.

"Is she on drugs?" Asked.

"No, she only drank two glasses of wine before starting. The three of us were a little tipsy."

A pale figure approaches Maeve and removes the low tail she has, surprisingly, this makes the woman relax even more. Seeing the hands massaging her shoulders you realize it's Jimin.

"Is she ready yet?" she murmured.

"The only thing missing is the boom," Hoseok responded by teasing Maeve about her beauty.

"Quickly, I can't wait any longer." Jimin laughed flirtatiously, approaching Maeve's neck to leave a couple of chaste kisses. Johnson closed her eyes.

"Almost there," Hoseok complained before the sound changed from a crisp sound to a sleeker one. Now you could hear Jimin's lips smack.

"Action," Maeve laughed and the two boys laughed at her. Hoseok was no longer in front of the screen. But you could hear the dragging of a chair and a belt being removed. Voyeurism, interesting.

What happens next is just what you thought, but you still couldn't stop watching Maeve being completely devoured by a man who was, surely, her first experience fucking her and having her be the center of attention.

The camera focused on her and her alone. But you couldn't stop watching Jimin in the corners, he was a damn artist with his body. He was not the protagonist but without him, there was no dance.

Hoseok was breathing hard behind the camera throughout the entire movie.

When Maeve was sweating and panting on the furniture right where you were sitting, the screen went black.

You looked at Jimin, his mouth resting on his knuckles. The light from the static emitted a pale light on his body, you could see how seriously he had taken the film, he had only moved to take a couple of sips of brandy without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What do you think about it?"

There were no words that could describe the feeling Jimin had when he heard the three words that left your lips.

"I want one." You had a feline smile. Jimin knew you were sick, but you looked like you had fallen from the sky that summer afternoon.

Park's head shook, nodding quickly.

As he stood up from the furniture, he felt as if his body was going to lean forward, perhaps he had drunk too much brandy.

"Woah, are you okay?" You held his arm, but he nodded instantly.

"Yes, sorry is the excitement." He laughed walking down the hallway, each step echoing off the walls of his brain. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop now. He had to look for his camera.

He searched for the keys in his pocket until he found the key to the study, turned on the lights, and looked for a tool in the corner of the room. Upon entering the studio, it surprised you how many plants, lamps, and furniture of different sizes and shapes there were.

Maeve had surely been something improvised, but now Jimin and Hoseok had vast resources to create something first-class.

"You can take a seat wherever you like, I'll take care of the rest." The man stammered, putting the batteries in the camera.

"What camera is it?"

"It's a Sony BetaMovie, I love how the colors look in the image." He swallowed hard because when he got up, the room seemed to spin. "Shit."

"Come, I'll help you. Take a seat." Your voice guided Jimin to a white piece of furniture near a window. Your hands brushed the hair from his forehead and he smiled. You really were everything he needed.

"I'll put the cassette on while you rest. You hit the joint too fast." You laughed before placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Jimin's cock throbbed as he felt the softness and heat emanating from your body.

“Quick,” he whispered, watching you put the device on the tripod.

His eyebrows rose at how quickly you set up the camera and sound. Even better than Hoseok, he dared to say.

Where was Hoseok?

Jimin's heart started to beat fast as you let your ass fall into his lap, a hiss coming from him as he put both of his hands behind his head. Your hips began to move back and forth, and the fabric of his jeans rubbed roughly against his cock.

"Fuck." He mumbled, looking up, lips parted into an oval. The room stopped moving when you started playing with his hair. "You're s-so fucking cute. I like you so much, I-I don't want to share you w-with that bastard Hoseok."

You laughed at his babbling. He was so excited that if you touched his cock he was sure to cum in seconds. You flattened your tongue against his jugular and felt the growl he made.

"You're so fucking cruel. C'mon, take my fucking cock out."

"Do it yourself, you lazy fuck." You whispered, leaving a hickey on his collarbone.

Jimin obeyed as fast as his clumsy hands could, he didn't know what was happening to him but he didn't care. Maybe what he smoked wasn't weed but if you were in the same state, things were fine.

Everything was perfect.

"Take that fucking dress off. God, I wish you had that pink leotard on."

With both hands on the edges of the dress, you lifted it until your naked body was visible.

"You're breathtaking, baby."

"I know." You kissed him with so much hunger that the taste of blood began appearing between your tongues, but none of you knew whose. You raised your legs to remove the wet panty, you held Jimin's cock in your entrance, and your fingers felt the veins that were pulsing frantically. "Don't you dare cum without me"

"Just ride me, baby, please. I feel like I will die if you don't." He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying. "Nice and slow, let the camera see how good you can take it." Jimin gasped with every inch you let into your tight pussy. Both hands went to his mouth muffling his moans when you sat straight up on his cock, leaving nothing out.

You bit your lower lip in a smile, you pulled him closer to your body and he buried his face in your neck. Right where you wanted it.

"I know you have my key." You whispered.

Jimin pressed his fingers on your hip to make you stop. Fuck.

"What are you-?" The air was forced from Jimin's lungs as his rib bent in pain. The warmth of his blood damaged the new T-shirt.

You had stabbed him, he didn't know what it was but he could feel the thin edge moving menacingly inside him. A guttural sound came from him as you rotated the handle of the knife.

"You were the one who entered my house."

Jimin laughed, the lightness that losing blood caused him ecstasy.

"I didn't tell you to stop moving, you slut," he growled in your ear, your pussy clenched around him, he noticed and smiled even more. You were so done with him. You grabbed a fistful of hair from his head to get a better look at him.

He was a fucking liar, you told yourself as you held his head, his eyelids fluttering with the errant movement of your hips. If you had drunk the brandy that he offered you, you would be in that state, the same one that Maeve was in, the same one that everyone on every cassette in the hallway was surely in.

"Where is the key?"

Jimin couldn't stop smiling, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to leave wet kisses on your lips. His tongue playing with yours. A fight of teeth and saliva.

"What do you need it for"

"It's not your damn problem."

"Then I don't have the key."

You were sick of his games, you bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. That along with a sit on his cock made him so sensitive.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He hissed on your chest, he did not know if it was for pleasure or because you were taking out the blade from his body. Thick, white cum pouring down your legs.

"Okay, then. I'll just do it myself."

The last thing Jimin remembers is your head smashing his to unconsciousness. Bliss, pure heaven after the torture of having to love and deal with you.

He was fucked.

And here was Jimin, his eyes were like two black bullets pointing in your direction.

And there you were, helping Nancy arrange the gifts on the Baby Shower table. You dressed so casually and sweetly. You smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jimin inhaled sharply and felt his rib sting under the gauze protecting the wound. By luck, or rather experience, you didn't hit a vital organ. Which to him is surprising.

"This is what you get for not telling me to go with you," Hoseok served Jimin the punch filled with cubes of fruit, it was too sweet but since it was Maeve's party it had to be kid-friendly.

Hoseok didn't know about your act, he only knows that there is a tape of what happened, and what hurts Jimin the most is that he doesn't even have it. You took him away, you left his house in a mess looking for the key, and all the tapes scattered on the floor. It took full days to fix them.

"Now you're dedicated to being a full-time dad."

"Sorry, I have to do my job."

Jimin looked up at his partner, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, to him and to everyone else. But Park Jimin was always a sweet, calm, and helpful neighbor. Today he gave the excuse of having a migraine so he could sit and be quiet, so he could see you through his sunglasses.

"Did you at least fuck her?"

Jimin looked at his empty glass, a small smile threatening to tug at his corners.

"It's the best work I've done so far." He responded after a long silence.

"Fuck, man," Hoseok complained, thinking of all the possibilities.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going outside for a cigarette."

"Don't stay too long, we almost announce the gender."

What a weird fucking sentence, Jimin thought taking, his pack out of his pockets.

"Care to share one?" You said and Jimin's body hair rose like static.

You wore sunglasses just like him, and you carried two glasses of rum and soda.

"You can take that fucking drink and choke with it."

“Mm,” you smiled. "Someone is not in a good mood."

"Do you know I can sue you for what you did?"

You laughed heartily covering your lips, Park's stomach altered. Of course, he couldn't, you already knew about his deepest secret, and you had the evidence. God knows Jimin was in your hands and you didn't need much to close it and crush him.

"Where's the tape?"

"Where's my key?"

"I don't have your fucking key."

"Then you can forget about your tape, sweetheart." You mumbled under your breath before stealing the cigarette from him. Jimin's hand turned into a fist.

You walked languidly down the sidewalk, Jimin following slowly behind you. You knew.

When they arrived at the house they both stayed at the entrance door. Your hands are arranged behind your back.

"Open the door."

"I thought you were going to come in through the window like you did before."

"ENOUGH!" Park shouted, scaring you, luckily there was no one around. "This is not a game."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You came to ruin my life."

"And you don't help solve it."

"The only way this problem will be solved is if you get out of Montenegro."

"Or if one of us ends up dead."

Jimin frowned, and you smiled. You were playing again. What a fucking tease.

Before the staring game continued, a noise inside the house caught both of your attention. To Jimin's surprise, it seemed like you didn't know what the noise was either.

No, quite the opposite.

"What's that?"

“Fuck,” you muttered before pulling out your keys and opening the door as quickly as possible. "Do not enter." You were frantic, scared. Jimin did the complete opposite.

"I told you not to come in,"

"Please help."

"Jimin Park, if you want to stay alive I swear-"

The man pushed you aside to follow the trail of blood that ran from the basement door to the living room and kitchen. When he got to the door, there was a woman tied up trying to open the door with a knife. Her hands were tied with gray tape, she was wearing dirty work clothes and she smelled horrible.

When the girl saw Jimin she became alert and she went to him on her knees, hands above her so that he could help.

"JI-" you swallowed hard, entering the kitchen. "No."

"Shh. I'll take care of it."

In the blink of an eye, Jimin's gaze changed to that of a monster. The woman noticed, got up on her weak legs, and ran through the kitchen to the stairs where she stumbled so hard that her knees couldn't take it anymore.

"No Please!" the woman screamed into Jimin's hand muffling her cries, Jimin's free arm chaining itself to her weak neck squeezing tightly. She moved like a fish out of water for a few seconds until only small spasms remained.

"Shh, I have a migraine. God."

You watched from the start of the stairs, your body trembling and your heart beating in your esophagus about to vomit it up. When he turned to see you there was a smile on his face, red with effort.

This was the card Jimin needed to match.

"The time I came into your house, you weren't the one making all that noise." He gasped, releasing the lifeless body from his arm.

"I do not know what are you talking about." You stuttered, taking a couple of steps back.

Knock, knock.

If you could, your racing heart would have already been on the ground.

"Hello, are you there? Nancy wants you to be there for the reveal."

Zuri's voice chilled your blood. You looked at Jimin and then at the body on the stairs.

Jimin trapped you between the door and his body, you looked up into his eyes.

"Let me guess, my little girl doesn't know how to hide a body."

It hurt you to say it but: "Help me, please." You whispered into Jimin’s lips and didn’t have to say more.

"Be like the one who was leaving the kitchen in ten seconds, wait for the second ring."

You nodded, watching Jimin lift your victim's body until he disappeared through the basement door. You fixed your hair and your dress, and you walked around the bloody kitchen.

"Are you there?" Said Zuri again.

"Yes, one second." You walked quickly trying not to slip on the red liquid on your heels. You opened and closed the door as quickly and subtly as possible. "Sorry, work."

"Oh, no. I understand, sorry." Zuri said with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Ten, of course. I'll inform the boss." She winked before walking down the sidewalk to the other row of houses.

You sighed before walking back into the mess, Jimin was standing with his shoulder covered in someone else's blood, hair fluttering, and cheeks flushed from the effort.

Your angel.

"There's blood on you... everywhere," your voice trembled.

"What an insightful observation, darling." He laughed, cleaning his hands with his jeans.  

When you both saw each other, there was something undeniable between, and as if pulled by threads, both were attracted to each other until they collided in a kiss with arms intertwined in your bodies. Jimin knew in your arms that heaven was in the middle of chaos.

Jimin's hands traced the lines of your body until he reached the back of your thighs and lifted you so that you were chained to his waist. His rib burned with pain and he was sure the wound was opening again, but it did not matter now.

You two were even.

You gasped as you felt his hands squeeze your ass with anger.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm done with your bullshit."

Your eyelids drooped as you felt his soft lips leave kiss after kiss until your lips did not come away, the undeniable taste of weed and rum. Sweet and dangerous. His tongue entered your mouth, playing with yours, circling until he sucked it, a docile bite that made you moan.

Why did he still want you even after you stabbed him and made him ejaculate, intoxicated?

"Look at you doubting yourself." You said right in time when the silence became evident.

Jimin's blood boiled at your mockery and he led you to the furniture in your small living room. The sofa was still wrapped in plastic and the crisp sound of your body falling into the cushions excited you. A hand on your neck squeezing enough for you to open your mouth for air, the blood of your victim staining your pretty dress and skin.

Out of nowhere, Jimin took out a knife from his pocket and your hair stood on end, your pussy getting wet when he slowly ran it over your chest until he broke your bust and left your nipples exposed.

"Where's the tape?" He asked bringing the sharp tip to one of your nipples, the cold of the metal making your toes curl.

"There's no tape." You smiled biting your lip. Jimin let go of your neck to slap you so hard that he took away your smile.

"Say that again." He was fuming, his wide nose searching for air to calm himself, teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"There. Is. No. Tape. Park. I just prepped the camera and left it off."

He didn't understand why you felt so proud when it was clear that he could push the blade through your chest, but your nipples were getting hard and saliva was pooling in his mouth.

"Why is there no tape, you fucking cunt?" His fingers squeezed your chin so you would stop watching him play with your tits.

"Because I want to be the one who has it."

Jimin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Open that box." You pointed at the table next to the couch. It was the only box that looked used and worn. With the same knife, Jimin opened the box and felt a rush throughout his body, almost like vomiting.

A Sony BetaMovie, new in the box. His dazed and disoriented gaze went to yours.

"It arrived this morning."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I want my own film. No Hoseok, no drugs, just you. I saw you in the other ones while you were drugged and God," Your pupils shone with such grace and prayer that Jimin didn't understand.

"N-no, this is not how it works." The only thing he could do was laugh.

"But it can."

You began to kiss his fingers, one by one, giving him the necessary attention. "You just need to let me put the VHS inside and we can start."

Jimin denied it as he let his guard down. You got up and improvised a tripod out of boxes until the camera was right in the center where you could see the couch and Jimin sitting, without understanding what the hell was happening.

Having the VHS and pressing 'Rec', you turned back to Jimin. You kissed his cheeks and his neck, he moaned a few times, closing his eyes.

"In this one, you're my main star." You whispered in his ear and his cock hardened until it hurt. "Use me, please."

A growl from him.

He snatched your body from his side until he had you in his lap, your chest pressed against his knees. With the edge of the knife, he spread your legs and spat on his fingers.

"I wish I could kill you right now." He murmured entering two slender fingers inside your sopping cunt.

"I wish you would just shut up and fuck me like you hate me." You whimpered as his fingers collided with your entrance with pure blows. Your juices were making noise throughout the room, you grabbed a cushion, pressing your face into it.

Jimin didn't like that. "No, no, lift your face. Let me hear you cry." His fingers fisted into your hair as he thrust two more fingers in, the knife threatening to cut the inside of your thigh at any moment.

Your body trembled as his index and ring fingers curled into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"That's it, cum you fucking slut. Flirting with all the husbands at the party, smiling at Charlie Munson in front of her stupid fucking wife, all that with your perky tits bouncing. Showing Zuri your pretty body in that leotard."

His pinky started to play with your throbbing nub until your pee came out, making a mess out of the plastic-covered furniture. Jimin laughed without stopping until he saw you trying to crawl away from him. He took his wet hand and smeared it in your mouth, you spit out the excess watching him with drooping eyelids.

"Look at the mess you made, how dare you ruin my jeans."

A rough hand collided with your right ass cheek.

"Say you're sorry." Another one, this time the left one.

"S-sorry, sir."

The name caught his fancy. You were really hanging on his hands, you were the dirtiest whore for him, and he could play with you no matter how. You were so fucking sick and he loved it.

"Sir?" He laughed, caressing the reddened skin. "That's so cute, keep doing it." He spanked you again and again.

"Please, sir, it hurts."

"Good, now come here and make me cum until it comes out of your nose," he smirked putting you between his legs. 

Your trembling and useless hands took a moment to remove Jimin's pants, revealing his defined legs that made your mouth water.

You felt the tip of the knife on your chin and you raised your head. "Take off the underwear, too."

You hurried until you found Jimin's thick cock throbbing on top of his stomach. You licked your lips unconsciously and got to work right away.

Jimin's moans were drawn out like he was going to curse and drowned it out in a grunt at the end, you loved every second of it as your tongue circled until you reached the base. The air cutting from your throat.

"Kiss it until you can taste the saltiness down your throat, angel"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, letting Jimin fuck your face, covering your ears with his hands so that you could only hear the saliva lubricating the exit and entry of Jimin's cock into your abused throat.

You closed your eyes when you felt just what he promised you. His cum enters directly into your esophagus.

His hands lifted you up in a rush, your lungs flaring for oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Open your mouth." He have demanded and you obeyed. He spit into your mouth and then closed it with his fingers. "You belong to me, slut."

"Yes, sir." Your words seemed like blurs of what you wanted to say.

Your body was arranged on the furniture with your legs on your chest and Jimin squatting on top of you. He was going to hurt you but it was going to feel so good.

Your juices lubricated your entrance and your asshole, shining with the afternoon light that was scattered through the curtains. Jimin wanted to break you so bad that he grabbed the back of your ankles and spread you even wider until your pussy revealed your dark, hot insides.

Aiming the tip of his cock he rammed you hard until you screamed, biting Jimin's arm. The blood of others staining your bodies, Jimin's wound hurt so deliciously that the stain on his tissues became bigger and bigger.

You couldn't hold it in and you dug your finger into the gauze making Jimin's eyes widen, a roar came out of him and he held your neck squeezing so hard that your face started to turn red. However, you smiled, going dumb with his dick.

Jimin's eyes threatened to go black with pleasure and pain. Your pussy felt like wet silk. It was warm and cozy. He could die fucking that tight hole until the last spurt of semen was also his last breath.

Damn succubus, that's what you were. You smiled like a demon and fucked like an angel.

The angle ended up making you cum a second time, making your walls throb.

"Oh my God, keep doing that." Jimin grabbed your body in a ball until he covered you completely with his body and fucked you with short, desperate strokes, like an animal in heat.

As he came he felt like his soul was ripped out.

"Fucking love you, love your-...I hope you get pregnant with my warm cum deep inside your stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, honey. If this ain't the one, we can try again." You promised.

"This is the last time you'll see me," Jimin promised back.

And there it was, oh the gods must have blessed you with such a perfect smile because even though he knew he was screwed, he was still in love.

In a quick and agile movement, you were now the one holding the knife and pointing it directly at the bleeding wound.

"I have a game." You smiled slowly positioning yourself to ride him.

The cum bursting out, warm and viscous to his pelvis. Jimin kept looking at you with a tense stomach.

"Let's play Guess who accidentally gave Cosette one of his movies instead of giving her A Clockwork Orange."

No no no. No.

"No." Jimin tried to get up but you raised the knife to his throat with menacing eyes.

"Knowing Cosette, it will be the last one she watches because of the explicit themes. But you must be on time."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:55. Cosette always started the movies after coming home from chess club.

Five minutes or it was going to be a total disaster. Chaos. Jimin had shown Cosette porn, his porn.

"Here's the solution: I give you my car key and you either leave to stop her or let the whole neighborhood know that you traumatized Marcus's poor little daughter with your sick hobby."

Park's eyes stung as two tears fell to his temples.

"If you say the first, that means you will take the key on my conditions."

And this was where Jimin knew that he had made the wrong move.

He was trapped everywhere. Checkmate.

"Fuck you," his voice trembled.

You lowered the knife disappointed, and you sighed.

"Well, if you wish."

The handle of the knife collided with Jimin's forehead letting the pain dissipate with a deep sleep.

The first thing Jimin could smell was artificial pine, then the selage of your perfume. His eyes struggled to open as the blood from his forehead had dried onto his eyelids. It was dark, it was night around him and he could only see the road along until it plunged into darkness. He doesn't remember going out anywhere, much less somewhere so barren. His neck moved little by little until he reached a small market illuminated by white and purple lights.

Jim's Stop Sign, read an old, disused sign.

A bell rang as a woman was let out, it was you.

Shit.

Jimin tried to lift his sleepy body but he was tied to the seat. His body shook with every step you took towards the car. Now that Jimin realized, it was your car.

As you got closer he realized that you were wearing Jimin's t-shirt and the bright green leotard underneath, despite the night you were wearing sunglasses.

When you opened the door, his body was twisted with tension, waiting for you to do something.

"Oh, you woke up." You turned on the dome light, the pungent smell of blood and rotting flesh suddenly filling the car until it completely drowned out the smell of pine. Park tried to vomit but stopped himself. "I see your stomach is still sensitive, you should eat something." You pointed to the paper bag full of snacks and odds and ends like glasses and hair dye.

There was a tingle on Jimin's back but he was afraid to look at the back seat. You put the keys in and sped through the quiet night. The putrid smell subsided as you opened the window for Jimin.

"We had to leave without saying goodbye to Hoseok, I know you probably wanted to see him one last time but the body was starting to decompose and there was no remedy."

That was it, Jimin guided his eyes to the back where a long black sheath tied up who he assumed was the girl you kidnapped.

"She was the girl who had bought the house." You explained when you saw that Park didn't take his eyes off the cover that was shaking with the car. "I convinced her to have a cup of coffee when I met her at the gym and hit her in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn't know how to get rid of her, she just didn't want to die, and spent days feeding her and trying to find a solution." You bit your perfect nails with your other hand on the steering wheel.

Jimin was trying to breathe slowly.

"The solution was you all along." You smiled caressing his thigh. That made Jimin strangely relax.

"We need to find a place to bury them."

Them?

"When we get to the outskirts of Las Vegas we will be more suitable."

"Them?" Jimin’s raspy, tremulous voice touched you.

You looked at him worried, he doesn't remember.

"Cosette's body is in the back." You explained sweetly.

The vomit that his stomach held back came out when he heard those words, the viscous liquid falling on his sweater and his seat.

"Oh, Minnie, this is the second time you've done this on the trip."

"I want to go home." He cried while you stopped to clean his mess.

"We're getting there, don't worry."

"No, I want to go back to Montenegro."

"But you can't. You killed Cosette in her room, don't you remember?"

"You're a fucking liar, I'll never do that to her," he yelled so loud spit came out of his mouth. You just stayed there taking paper towels to clean his chest.

"She said very offensive stuff to you when we went to get the tape. She didn't like that a man was with her dad." You tensed your mouth in a strange smile.

"I didn't do it." He repeated it again and again.

But then again, He hated her guts. The only thing he needed was for her to snap at him once. But he couldn't, he wouldn't.

The night fell again into the silence of the car mechanics accelerating down the deserted highway toward Las Vegas. Jimin looked to the side of him: your hand was resting on the open window while your hair was fluttering in the wind, you looked tired but still murmured the lyrics the song in the radio.

Feeling Jimin's gaze, you looked out of the corner of your eye and smiled tenderly.

You got him out of a huge mess, he was grateful for that. Your hand went to the back and you removed the knot from Jimin's wrists. Looking back at Jimin you kissed the back of his hand and continued looking at the road.

The sweet act confused Jimin so much that he could only stand there looking at your profile, it reminded him of Nancy's. Appeased, away, and scheming things. His stomach was burning with love and he didn't understand it, but thinking about your furrowed eyebrows while you helped him lift Cosette's body made Jimin take you more than just appreciation.

"Did you bring a shovel?" He asked.

[the-artist-grimm]

In the post about rites and doctrines you mentioned how the sin rites transformed into anual festivals

Are there more "holly days" with specific celebrations? Ones not tied specifically to sin rites but things like memorizing important events or people?

Hm other holidays....

In general they're pretty much just those seasonal-based ones, but I figure Anthea would also have certain other notable days, namely the anniversary of the Cult's founding being a sorta day of mourning/remembrance for all those who've passed due to the Bishops' reign. Like the Halloween one is for the dead in general, but that anniversary day is specifically for those lost to the other cults and especially the sheep. Cultists likely light candles and it's a day of rest and reflection-both for the mourners, and the converts still coming to terms with the things they've done. As the decades pass it might shift a little, but for the first generation it's a day of mourning.

As for others...

While not so much a holiday, since Aym and Baal's aging got screwed up while in the Gateway their original birthday doesn't line up with them anymore, and thus Anthea and Narinder instead make it their resurrection date. The boy's first real birthday then is this huge celebration since they'd never celebrated before-lots of gifts, their favorite foods, sweets, games, the works. Like the boys are the only kids in the cult for quite awhile, and very much had endeared themselves to the community with how sweet they were, so everyone wants to spoil them.

There are somewhat late late teens (like 18, 19) in the ranks, and since they're like the closest to the boys' ages they take the task of showing the boys just what it means to be kids'. Which they do, but also end up giving the boys their first sugar highs with how much sugar they fed them lol, they're all energy before completely crashing later into the night.

But overall it's a good day for the two :D

Another not-so holiday but kinda is when Anthea and Narinder get married. Like they get married pretty shortly after reconciling since they were practically dating before the betrayal anyway/don't want to wait, and while they would've preferred a small gathering they also kinda had a LOT of people wanting to come. So all of Anthea's allies from the various factions, the cult community, Knucklebones gang, Ex-Bishops, ect. show up for a HUGE party. One that lasts so late into the night that no one realizes when the happy couple have long slipped away.

The only guests that actually leave the grounds that night are Ratau and Flinky since they volunteered to watch the kits for the week at their place to give their parents alone time (and definitely don't use it as a chance to teach the boys gambling lol), but everyone else crashes at some point near dawn forgetting to clean up. Thus when Anthea and Narinder wake up around noon only to find a disaster they are less than pleased lol.

Pretty sure after forcing everyone to clean up their mess the two go camping for a week with Anthea's main disciples and the Ex-Bishops is charge.

Boarders are by @/lambouillet

[demigodsanswer]

Holiday fic/baby fic

Canon Percabeth in this one. They're about 28 or 29.

If Percy hadn't been there for their entire conception journey, he'd have bet that Annabeth timed her pregnancy to maximize "baby's first holiday" cheer. It had taken almost a year to conceive Sophie though, so her early August birthday, almost exactly in between their own birthdays, was just how it turned out.

But this meant Sophie was holding her head up by the time Annabeth wanted to put her in a pumpkin for Halloween (perfect for pictures), and she wasn't such a squishy newborn for the holiday card (again, perfect). Hell, by Valentines day she might even sleep through the night and let Mommy and Daddy enjoy their romantic holiday.

Annabeth had a real thing for the holidays. Growing up at camp without stable family traditions had turned her into an adult with bins and bins of decorations, and an iron will to throw every kind of party. New mom or not, she was determined to throw their New Years Eve party the same as every year.

Their daughter had spent the last two months in a series of rotating holiday-themed onesies and dresses. Today, she was in a candy cane printed onesie. She'd had a little red skirt on before, but now she was just in baby sweatpants. Her socks were lost somewhere between her stroller and the couch.

Sophie was attached to Annabeth's chest in a baby wrap, but facing out to look at the tree as Annabeth carefully placed ornaments. His daughter's eyes were wide and her chubby little hands outstretched trying to grab onto the glittery red ball Annabeth was holding up in front of her.

"We should get her some plastic ones to play with," Percy said, handing Sophie a wooden nutcracker ornament she probably couldn't break.

Annabeth kissed the top of her head. "She's trying to help," she said, bouncing slightly until Sophie cooed. "Yeah, you like our non-denominational holiday tree, baby?" Sophie made a little noise in response.

"How long before she starts talking?" Percy asked. He knew all the baby books said ten to eighteen months, but a kid who was half Annabeth was sure to start sooner.

"I started talking at about seven months," Annabeth said, "so maybe around then, or a little later. Or maybe she's just like every other baby, and that's okay too." This she said to Sophie, talking into the top of her head, which was covered in thin blonde curls. At a distance, she still looked bald as an egg.

As if to prove she was, in fact, not like every other baby, Sophie turned the kitchen sink on with a flick of her baby wrist. Percy turned it back off. Even at four months, bath time was already a war zone.

Annabeth laughed. "That's a very good trick, girlie," she said.

"We're in for it if she takes after me," Percy said with a smile of his own. But besides the occasional aquatic manipulation, his daughter was all Annabeth -- wide curious eyes, curly hair, and an ability to keep Percy wrapped around her finger. And absolutely perfect.

Sophie was a sign of everything they'd survived and gone through together; she was proof they were alive and grown. And as Annabeth hung an ornament that was a ceramic with an imprint of Sophie's hand, Percy couldn't help but smile to know she was going to grow up with so many signs that she was loved by both her parents all the time.

"No, we'll be lucky," Annabeth said, stepping closer to him to place a few more ornaments near his side.

Percy took the proximity as an opportunity to kiss his wife. Then he planted a kiss on Sophie's cheek with a loud mwah, pulling a giggle out of his baby. So he did it again, and got even more laughter. Sophie dropped the nutcracker to the floor and reached both her hands out, grabbing onto fistfuls of Percy's hair.

"Ow, ow, okay, okay," Percy said, carefully removing her hands.

"I think she's tired of me," Annabeth said, resting a hand under Sophie's bum as she undid the wrap. "Do you want to take her for a minute?"

It would probably be only a few minutes before Sophie reached back for Annabeth. Annabeth was her favorite person, except for maybe Grandma, and Percy had to agree.

But Percy happily took his daughter into his arms, holding her carefully as he let her face out towards the tree. He started pointing at ornaments he and Annabeth had collected together, and a few old hand-made ones from Estelle or his own childhood.

"Do you have a favorite?" He asked her. Sophie responded by reaching out for the large -- "olives, really?" It was a glass ornament that looked like three olives on a skewer for a martini. Percy had bought it for Annabeth a few years ago when he'd found spotted it in a random Christmas shop window. "You don't even know what olives taste like."

"Maybe it comes through in the breast milk?" Annabeth suggested from the other side of the tree. Annabeth did have a horrifying addiction to them. It'd even made it into his wedding vows, that he'd always get pizza with half olive half pepperoni.

"She still wouldn't know what an olive is. Unless she thinks those are boobs," Percy said.

"She's smart, she could figure it out," Annabeth said.

"Did you see Mommy eating those?" Percy asked. Sophie wiggled at the sound of mommy, and started looking around for Annabeth.

"I think my time is up," Percy said, as Sophie's coos started to get louder and more demanding.

"She might be hungry," Annabeth suggested, poking her head around the tree. "Do you want to feed her?"

"I'll give it a shot," Percy said, lifting his shirt up.

Annabeth laughed and pulled his shirt back down. "We've got some bottles," she said.

"Are you sure?" Percy asked, heading to the kitchen. Usually whatever she pumped they needed to save for during the day when Sophie was with Fred or Sally. Percy only got to feed her when he got up with her in the middle of the night, and even that was becoming less frequent as she got bigger. But it was one of his favorite parts so far.

"Oh yeah," Annabeth assured him. "I'm pretty locked into this."

Percy prepped the bottle and sat on the couch, and watched Annabeth rearrange ornaments until they had the perfect flow and balance. Percy cradled Sophie carefully as she took the bottle.

"Was that it? Were you hungry?" Percy asked her.

"That's almost always why she reaches for me," Annabeth said.

"No, I think you're really just her favorite."

"Impossible, she's a total Daddy's girl."

"Oh please, she's obsessed with you."

"I'm the food."

"And I'm just the bottle guy," Percy said, nodding his head down toward the bottle.

"No, you're the fun, silly one," Annabeth said, stepping back to examine the tree with an extremely serious look on her face. Percy was pretty sure she was doing that on purpose, so that he couldn't push back with a simple you're silly and fun too.

Sophie, of course, didn't chime in.

"I love to tell you this gorgeous," Percy said, "she loves you so, so much. Because you're the best mom in the whole world." Percy looked down at Sophie, who was still eating away. "Can you say 'she's the best Mommy in the whole world?'"

Sophie stopped drinking and pulled away from the bottle. For a second, Percy thought she might just start talking.

But she just started to cry. Percy heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. She truly had his skill for disrupting the plumbing.

"Ah, burping time?" he asked her as he sat her up. She responded by spitting up into his lap before he could find a burp cloth.

"Here," Annabeth said, appearing at his side, cloth in hand in a moment. She cleaned Sophie's face first, before just laying it over the slash zone on his pants as he kept patting her back.

"You mean it?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah, was definitely time for a burp," he said.

"No, that I'm good at this?" Her eyes were on their daughter.

Percy leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Of course," he promised.

"You're such a good dad too," she promised, before kissing his cheek. He'd started growing a beard when she got pregnant, and it seemed to be a crowd pleaser, so it had stuck around long past the birth. The crowd, of course, was Annabeth.

Percy smiled. "Well! It's easy to be a good dad to such a perfect little baby," he said. He lifted Sophie up under her arms as he leaned back on the couch. He held her up, almost like Simba, but so that she was looking at him.

Sophie decided then that she wasn't quite done spitting up what she'd ate. A good bit of her bottle ended up on Percy's chin then into his beard and onto his shirt.

Annabeth laughed. "Alright, bath time for both of you, I think," she said, taking Sophie from him, so he could compose himself.

The shower turned on.

Annabeth looked at him wide-eyed, then to the baby in her arms.

"I did that," Percy confirmed.

Annabeth sighed. "Oh thank the gods. I'm not ready for her to really understand words yet."

"She probably already does," Percy said, wiping his beard with his sleeve. "Her big brain is like a sponge."

Annabeth nodded, before resting Sophie over her shoulder. "I love you," she said to both of them. He saw tears well up in her eyes. "Baby's first Yule!" Annabeth said.

"It'll be perfect," Percy promised, before standing. He wanted to kiss her, but his beard was all milky and his spit-up-on pants were starting to stick to him.