#this grown man is too precious

[fozzieosbourne]

Matthew Porretta got me looking out the window like…

[fozzieosbourne]

He’s a baby, your honor

[torgawl]

i love yuuji so fucking much you don't get it

[softquietsteadylove]

How about the 5+1 times thing? :D

5 times Gil protected Thena and one time She protected him

Up to you wich AU :)

It was his job to protect Thena. Technically speaking, it was his job to keep her safe and at an appropriate distance from anyone who could be a threat to her or any event tied to her or the label's reputation.

That was how his contract phrased it, at least. But his job was to protect Thena; that was how Gil phrased it.

And he took that job very seriously--always had. And there were different ways he protected her than just being her bodyguard, like most thought.

He could protect her image.

It was early on in his time working for her. They were at some awards show, and neither he nor Thena wanted to be there. But it was part of her job, which made it part of his, too. At least he didn't really have to talk to anyone, he could admit. Thena was forced to socialise with the odd interviewer or contact in the industry, much to her chagrin.

"Are you okay?" he frowned as Thena made the same pinched expression he'd seen a few times now. She kept rolling her shoulders in a way he'd never really seen her do before.

She scrunched up her mouth, obviously debating whether or not to tell him what she was thinking. They were still somewhat new to each other, after all. But she nodded him closer.

"I have to fix my dress, but these goddamn cameras are going to see every move I make."

Gil wasn't too proud to admit he blushed (just a little). He was...aware of how attractive Thena was--beautiful, really. That was part of her job, after all, and he wasn't breaching contract just by noticing that. But he didn't think of her in that way. She was a client, and also the boss of him, even if the label was technically in charge of them both.

Thena huffed quietly to herself, rolling her shoulders again.

"Here," Gil whispered, guiding her off to the side as a few other stars walked along the carpet ahead of them. He moved her in front of him, which was technically behind him, as far as the cameras were concerned. "Just hide behind me."

Thena gave him a questioning look for it, but he put his hands on his hips under his suit jacket, creating a curtain of sorts for her to fix the sparkly and skin tight dress she was wearing. He glanced over his shoulder too, just so she could have as much privacy as possible.

"Thanks," she whispered as she fidgeted with the bust of the dress. Or did whatever she had to do, because Gil was mortified at the thought of even looking at her in the moment.

He could protect her peace of mind.

"Thena, it'll be fine."

"Hey," Gil walked over to them, slipping his phone back in his pocket. Thena was on the defensive, arms crossed and angling herself somewhat away from the rest of the management team. "What's going on?"

Kingo held out a hand at her, "she just gets nervous about transportation sometimes."

Gil wondered what exactly was missing between the way Thena was acting and Kingo's vague statement. He looked at Thena, trusting that she would tell him more specifically what she needed and what had to happen to make it better. "What's wrong with what we've got?"

Thena shrugged, "nothing."

Kingo sighed, "Thena-"

Gil moved in front of her, which he could tell irked her manager/stylist greatly. But he focused on the singer folded in on herself. He nodded his head, asking her to speak in not so many words.

Thena squirmed and pursed her lips, like a kid who didn't want to go home yet. Or maybe wanted to go home right this minute. "The limo has to park on the main street. If we walk to it, there will be fans, and paparazzi, and-"

"And you can ignore them," Kingo suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

But Gil held a hand out to him, which irked him even further. But he wasn't Gil's client (his priority), Thena was. "She's had a long day, man. And you know how they can get after a performance."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Gil tilted his head, looking at Thena, who was both being very stubborn and trying not to make a big deal out of it. But her battery was completely empty, that much was certain. She looked ready to drop, and she probably was going to ask if they could go get greasy burgers or cheap tacos or something anyway.

"I've got an idea."

"What?" Kingo asked, but continued to go ignored by the bodyguard. He huffed, leaning past his massive shoulders to peek at Thena. "Just get home safe, and text me when you do, okay?"

She nodded, waving him and the rest of the team away. She looked at Gil, on his phone. "What did you think of?"

"You're hungry, right?" he asked her with a smirk. It stretched into a full grin when she perked up like a flower in the sunlight. "Ubers will take you through the drive-thru if they don't have another ride waiting."

That was one of the first instances of what had since become a tradition for them.

He could protect her physically.

He had done so plenty of times, obviously. He would always remember the first time that not only was he on the job, but rather when Thena actively sought him out for protection.

She wasn't even out as Athena: Goddess of Song. She was just out as Thena, with Makkari and Sersi. They were also in the music industry, of course, so it wasn't as if they could go around completely anonymous. But at the very least, they weren't at a music event, they weren't at a concert--they were just three friends out for drinks.

Thena had asked if he could be on call for the night, for when they had to get to and from different locations. He had easily agreed, not just because it was part of the job, but also because it was Thena; she would be socially exhausted by the third bar anyway. If anything, he was prepared to pick them up and get them all drive-thru on the way back to Thena's penthouse.

But Thena called him from the bathroom of the second bar. Apparently someone in there had recognised her and was being pretty aggressive about getting a photo - and her number - and meeting her friends. Without a proper escape route, she had called him.

And Gil arrived ready for a fight. The nerve of some creeps in this part of town astounded him. He easily found the guy, leaning against the wall outside the bathrooms, just as Thena had assumed he would be. Didn't the club have any security of their own?!

"Hey brother, I'm just waiting for my girlfriend t-"

Gil gave him a swift crack in the jaw, his fist sending the guy to the floor in the blink of an eye. He shook out his fist afterward, although his knuckles were well conditioned for impact. "Prick."

He knocked on the door, leaning his ear close, "Thena? It's me. Are you-"

She pushed the door open, nearly pushing it right into him. But she rushed right to him, her forehead pressed to his chest at the earliest opportunity. "Thank you."

Gil heard her loud and clear despite the head-rattling music from the dance floor. He folded his arms around her, knowing that no matter how much she didn't want to show it, that it was one of her worst nightmares to find herself in a situation like that. He pressed his cheek to her hair, "it's okay. I've got you."

He could even protect her from herself--in a way.

"Thena," he called her name for the umpteenth time, watching her pace the floor of her dressing room so consistently he was worried the rug would go bald. "It will be fine."

She wasn't listening to him. She wasn't listening to anything but whatever her head was screaming at her. And it was never kind things, Gil had come to learn.

She was picking at the cuticles around her press-on manicure, since she couldn't chew the fake nails. If she were sitting her knee would be bouncing a mile a minute. In not time at all she would start muttering aloud to herself.

"Thena," he tried again. He had been trying since he got her in the car, though. There was almost no winding her down from this point before a performance. Almost.

Thena grumbled as he planted himself directly in the path of her pacing. She tried to move around him but he trapped her in his arms against him. She huffed. "This is a little over the line, no?"

"So file a complaint," he chuckled, still holding her to his chest. He took a few deep breaths, deliberately letting his chest expand and contract against her.

Despite her attempt to remain cranky, she slowly fell into the same rhythm, her heartbeat slowing and her breathing becoming more even and more in sync with his.

"That's it," he whispered, running a hand over her hair. There was nothing he could say to comfort her in these moments. They would be as good as empty words to her anyway. The only thing that mattered to Thena were results. But to get the results she wanted, she had to be in the right mindset to perform in the first place. "You'll be great."

Thena sighed, dropping her head to his chin with a slight bonk. She would be burying her face right in his shirt if not for her full face of makeup. "You don't know that."

"You've got a pretty good track record so far," Gil shrugged. He didn't have to argue with her with false promises; Thena believed in results, and her popularity spoke for itself. "I'll be here waiting."

But his favourite part of the job was actually the part that was taking care of her. It wasn't actively protecting her from anything--maybe protecting her from burnout.

But it was things like carrying her after a long day in ridiculously tall heels when she was exhausted. It was knowing exactly what her order was at every fast food place in town, or coming over to make her breakfast when he knew she was sleeping until two in the afternoon after a performance. It was buying her medicine when she was sick; it was even running regular old errands for her.

He had come to like tucking her in when she was asleep and already snoring by the time he got her in bed (he had never told her she snored, just a little). He liked running hot baths for her so she could have a soak while he made a nice nutritious dinner for them (fast food was only for after performances). He liked that he spent more time at her place than his, these days.

He liked protecting her from the job.

Gil frowned as Thena's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She was in the shower, losing track of time as she sang to herself with the help of the steam stretching out her vocal chords. "Hello?"

"Gil?--I called Thena."

"Yeah, and I'm answering," Gil set down his breakfast burrito and got up for his own phone, left by the stove. "It's her day off--what's going on?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

If he were really sorry then why was he calling?

"The label got a call from Ikaris' management team. Remember that piece she recorded with him?"

"Yeah," Gil murmured. He knew the piece personally--he had helped Thena rehearse it in this very spot.

"They want her to make a guest appearance at one of his shows he's doing on his tour--over in the UK."

Usually artists would just contact each other personally and let management figure out the details for them once they were or weren't in agreement over it. But then again, Thena and Ikaris weren't exactly friends. Friends through Sersi, and perhaps frenemies with a playful rivalry between them. But it made sense that Ikaris knew better than to slide into Thena's DMs. Not that she would know what that meant.

"We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Gil, come on, I wouldn't be calling if they weren't expecting an answer today."

"So tell them she's sick, or she's on vocal rest or some shit," Gil argued. He could hear Kingo getting frustrated with him. It wasn't that they experienced friction that often, and they were both part of Thena's team, and her friends. Gil considered Kingo his friend.

But if it was between Kingo or Thena, obviously he chose Thena.

"Gil-"

"Kingo," Gil pressed, his voice softening as he heard the faint fluttering of Thena's voice. She had left the door cracked; her trust in him was incalculable. "She's exhausted from the show this weekend. She really needs today to just...chill, okay? I promise first thing tomorrow, I'll get her on a call with his label. But today is all hers."

Kingo sighed loudly - dramatically - into his end of the phone. "You're a little too good at your job, you know that?"

Gil smiled to himself, "I take that as a compliment."

"I'm sure you do, Gil. Fine, I'll tell them she's on doctor ordered silence. Just make sure to bring it up in the email so it doesn't sound like uncorroborated bullshit."

"Will do," Gil promised before the call ended. He swiped the notification of it away. It was still in the phone's logged calls, but Thena never looked at that anyway. He set her phone down again, resuming his task of finishing his burrito.

"Who was that?"

Gil smiled, licking his lips as he finished up his last bite. "Just Kingo--nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" she tilted her head, but she hadn't knotted up at the mere mention of work.

She had come a long way since he had first started working for her. "I'm sure."

She could even protect him.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Gil was being visibly mauled by a horde of fans. They were mostly young, all significantly smaller than him, most of them appearing female. And of course Gil wasn't in the habit of fighting children.

"All of you!" Thena barked at them, storming over without a second thought to her initial desire to find their ride and go right home. "Get off him!"

Gil groaned as Thena pulled him from the grips of the crowd previously shaking and clawing at him. He even had a few scratches on his face.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked him, although the crowd around them was still rioting at them. She backed up with Gil tucked against her side.

"They're fans of Eros'," he sighed heavily, leaning against her. At least, he was until she moved him behind her. "Thena?"

"Get the hell away from him!" she bellowed, knowing exactly how to shout at them loudly and with a sustainable strength in her voice. "I cannot believe you would attack him like this!"

"He deserves it!"

"He punched Eros right in the face!"

"You should've had him fired!"

Thena's back raised, her shoulders tensing. She took a step forward, ready to get in a screaming match with a child.

"Thena, come on," Gil held her hand in his. He was spent from defending himself (which meant letting them tear a strip off of him and not fighting back at all). "Leave them be."

Thena all but growled at the gaggle of little monsters glaring at them. She had no concern what they thought of her. "You should be ashamed of yourselves for attacking an innocent man."

"He's the one who attacked an innocent man!"

"Come on," Gil urged Thena again, before she could argue that Eros was the instigator, which would be a pretty clear and direct breach of their agreement with his team to keep the whole thing quiet. "Just ignore them."

Thena did finally turn away from his assailants. She raised a hand to his face, brushing over a slightly swollen cheek, "what did they do to you?"

"Please," he chuckled, brushing off literally being mauled by a riot. "They're just a bunch of kids."

"If that's his most devoted fanbase, it does nothing to increase my confidence in Eros' character as a person," Thena scoffed.

"This will all blow over soon," Gil murmured, not that he was entirely sure that was true. He looked back at the crowd still booing him as they walked back to the car waiting for them. He walked closer to Thena, pulling her ahead of him--which was technically behind him to them.

Thena reached behind her, finding his hand naturally and slipping her fingers against his. "I'm sorry."

He gave her hand a squeeze in return, smiling despite the soreness of his swollen lip. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Still," she whispered, pulling him to walk beside her properly. She squeezed his hand even harder, "are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he promised her, smiling genuinely despite his little scratches and scrapes. She frowned at him, openly doubting him. But he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I'm sure."

[pepprs]

hm. i think i am going to stop going to counseling. he does not understand me. he pathologizes things that are not pathological.

[somedaytakethetime]

Kasper Schmeichel during the match between OGC Nice vs Stade de Reims on the 18th of February, 2023

[sttoru]

⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ‘n little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!

the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wife’s perfume.

the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.

“‘gumi, don’t feed papa sand,” your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumi’s tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.

toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. “brat—” the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumi’s torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, “what’s this all ‘bout? wanna kill y’r daddy or sum?”

your son pouts and furrows his brows. “no, i made papa food. burger,” he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumi’s tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his father’s lips again, “now papa eat!”

toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.

toji totally forgot to play along with megumi’s pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. children’s attention spans are short after all.

seems like his kid is an exception.

“i ain’t eatin’ shit, boy,” toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. you’re about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.

“this not poo poo!” megumi jabs a finger at his father’s chest, his voice a bit louder. he’s taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.

toji snorts and gently flicks megumi’s hand away, “yeah, it is. bet it tastes like ‘poo poo’ too.”

“no! not poo poo!” megumi’s voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on toji’s abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.

your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. “‘yes! yes ‘tis poo poo!’ keheh,” toji mocks megumi’s high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.

the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. “can you two just get along for once now? we’re in public, so behave,” you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, “and you— you’re an adult, so act like one.”

the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.

in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.

neither does the grown man dare to defy his wife’s demands.

“yeah, yeah. c’mere, son,” toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesn’t pull away and instead curls up in toji’s warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.

you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. “much better,” you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and it’s the cutest little thing ever.

they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.

toji runs his callused fingers through megumi’s hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesn’t admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumi’s, toji’d instantly draw his last breath.

“he’s still a brat,” your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumi’s chubby cheek is smushed against toji’s chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.

toji scoffs, but can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the child’s cheek with his knuckles before continuing, “but he’s my brat. ain’t that right, boy?”

megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his father’s words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as well— to receive toji’s attention and a glimpse of his affection.

“aww, how cute!” your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. toji’s soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumi’s chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.

you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.

you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumi’s cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. “kehehe, look at ‘em,” he chuckles.

the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist up—the same one that still had some sand stored from before—and lets the content fly all over toji’s face.

megumi giggles and scrambles off toji’s lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father who’s struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, “tha’s papa’s burger.”

you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.

toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kid’s surprise attack, “you little shit—”

well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.

. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.

[its44intheehouse]

IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE F1 DRIVERS

Wondering what it would be like to date the f1 drivers? 😏

___________________________________________

warnings: not much, fluff?, implied smut, (smut?), dirty thoughts, mentions of breeding kink, cursing.

Max Verstappen

-he's your biggest fan. in every way possible. he loves to support you, to admire you, to see you happy.

-you're his biggest love. he didn't think he could fall for someone that hard. he's completely whipped and everyone knows it.

-gets jealous a lot, but doesn't always show it, although you know better. he doesn't like it when other men look at what's his.

-that's why he has decided that from now on every man will know who you belong to. either by covering your soft neck in bruises or making you walk out of the bathroom with your cunt stuffed of his cum. he absolutely enjoys seeing you squirm all night and try not to make it obvious to everyone in the room that his seed is dripping down your bare legs.

-he loves how submissive you are for him. of course you love being a spoiled brat sometimes just for the fun of it, because then he gets feral. and you always know it’s gonna end in a lot of orgasms.

“I thought you wanted to be a brat? What happened, schat? Fucked your tiny brain out?” his thrusts hit a spot inside your pussy that makes you see stars. He slaps your cheek to get your attention, knowing you’re going dumb already.

All you can do is cry out and shake your head. You can’t talk. You can’t even think. You’re too busy trying to jerk away from his harsh thrusts.

You know he doesn’t like it when you don’t answer him.

“Talk.” he snaps, squeezing your cheeks tightly then slapping you again.

“YES daddy. Sorry for b-being a brat. Please, please! Make me cum!”

Lewis Hamilton

-spoils you all the time; expensive jewelry, cars, clothes, lingerie, vacations… whatever you need or want. also, his card is always on your phone. he insists you use it anytime you want.

“Get yourself something nice, baby… I want to see you dripping with my wealth. You are my beautiful little wife.”

-will always have a hand on you. in the car while he's driving, on your b*tt when you're walking, on your thigh when you're having dinner with your parents and his fingers successfully rub a spot on your clit through your panties that makes you twitch and moan every time. thankfully, your parents were oblivious.

-kisses the ground you walk on. he's a grown man and isn't afraid to show you how a real man loves his woman.

-especially when he's between your legs, showing you how you deserve to be treated.

“Come on, princess… gimme one more. You’d do anything for daddy, isn’t that right princess?” he softly rubs your cheek with his finger, thrusting a little bit more inside your tight and overstimulated cunt.

“D-daddy… too much. I don’t think I can…” you whimper stupidly, still slightly shaking with the intensity of the last orgasm you just had about 2 minutes ago.

He smirks. “Of course you can, baby. Don’t you want daddy’s babies? Hm?”

He loves how pathetic you get after a few good orgasms. He knows he’s the best you ever had. He can make you cum anywhere, anytime. You let him do whatever he wants to you.

Carlos Sainz

-can be possessive at times, but loves to show you off. you are his most prized possession.

when he met you, he knew he wanted to date to get married, not like the relationships he had before.

-takes you everywhere with him; vacations, races. he can't stand being away from you.

-he secretly fantasizes about you carrying his children. until one night after a baby shower when he confesses to you.

“Mi amor… You don’t know how beautiful you looked today with my niece in your arms. I can’t wait to get you pregnant. Make you my precious wife.”

His touch on your thigh gives you goosebumps, and you suddenly feel impossibly aroused by his confession. He didn’t even need to ask. You’d give him as many kids as he wants.

He recognizes the look in your eyes. The craving, the lust. He knows you like the back of his hand. “You’d like that, no? To walk around all round and heavy with my child. To make these tiny tits swell and burst with the sweetest milk…” he grabs at your breasts and squeezes, making you moan in response.

“Yes, papi. I want to have your babies… please touch me…”

Lando Norris

-you're his best friend. his rock, the girl of his dreams.

-datind lando is the most intense experience of your life. he is a fierce lover. but loves to be soft for you sometimes

-he loses his mind when you're being bossy with him, showing off your bold attitude.

-especially when you're making him beg for you.

“What did you say?” You smirk, hovering on top of him, teasing him sometimes with a swift rub of your wet pussy on his erect and red cock.

Poor baby, you edged him for too long and he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock twitches every few seconds and you know he isn’t going to last too long.

“Please, baby… fuck, please.” His voice is hoarse when he talks, probably from all the moans you pulled out of him already. “Let me fuck you, I need it. I have so much cum for you baby… Please.”

You moan at his words and decide to stop the torture. You needed him too. Nothing compares to the way he stretches your sweet little pussy. Quickly, you align yourself with his cock and sink in, making the both of you moan loudly.

Charles Leclerc

-you're eye candy for this man. ever since he saw you he couldn't take his eyes off you.

-he loves to have you at the races. he's constantly trying to show off and be the best, because he loves the look on your face when he wins or he's doing good.

-he's going to be the most romantic man you've ever had. he's always touching you, always tells you what an angel you are, how beautiful you look, what a good girl you always are for him…

-ESPECIALLY if you’re bent over his lap while he’s driving and you’re sloppily sucking on his cock.

“Mm, fuck. That’s is, mon ange, suck my cock. You’re such a naughty girl.” he mocks you almost, and it makes you even more eager to show him who’s in charge. for once.

Gagging a little, you take more of his length in your mouth, forcing your throat open. Suddenly, you feel his hand slap your ass hard and you can’t control the loud moan that threatened to escape you. Your throat squeezes his head perfectly then, and he lifts his hips up a little, hissing at the sensation.

“Gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.”

Your efforts double when you hear that, and you wrap your small hand around his cock, starting to pump his hard, heavy shaft. Your swollen lips are still wrapped around his head, licking and sucking on it desperately, waiting for his hot, salty cum.

The car stops abruptly and you assume he just pulled over. His hand then snatches your hair in a messily done ponytail and forces your head down his cock, making you cry and gag uncontrollably.

“Take it. You greedy girl. Take my fucking cum. Fuck.”

[venusjeon]

angel in the marble

after you fail to pickpocket him, the famous yet arrogant artist Jeon Jungkook takes you off the streets to make you his servant, and the more you know him, the more you realise he's not as detestable as everyone claims he is.

♔ PAIRING: michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader

♔ GENRE: high renaissance au, angst, smut, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 8k

♔ WARNINGS: homelessness, stealing, mild swearing/violence/drinking, 90% of this is bickering lmao, mentions of minor characters' death, jealousy and kinda possessiveness?, referenced unconsensual groping (not by jk), a bit of blasphemy, making out, groping, fingering, rough angry sexxx, choking, slapping

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: fun fact this is mostly historically accurate! jk's characterisation, the grocery list doodles, the sack of rome, the beef with his brother, the encounter with his rival (raphael)... are all taken from michelangelo's actual life, even some stuff is quoted from his letters lol. man was fanfic material.

1529, Rome

“How much for that one?”

“No, that one’s sold already.”

It was a lively morning. After days of heavy rainfall, those of high social class were eager to get out and meet under the gentle sun of spring, whose glare reflected on the precious stones of their jewellery; while those of low, out of necessity, couldn’t wait to reopen their businesses or set up their stalls and get back to work. You liked to eye them all as you strolled the streets of Rome.

“To whom?”

“Your friend Taehyung.”

“Agh… How much is that prick paying you?”

The point of the matter was that it was bustling, some colliding if they looked away from where they were going for more than a breath. It worked in your favour for it was then easier to make yourself scarce right after stealing bags of coins, such as those of the three men seemingly bargaining by a workshop’s entrance out of which a large block of marble was being dragged. Perfect.

“Three ducats.”

“Three?! He’s robbing you of two ducats. I’ll pay you the five it’s worth.”

You kept your head low as you approached the pair that seemed wealthier and with those stealthy hands of yours unfastened the bags tied to their belts. After all, pickpocketing was a skill you’d had under your own for some years now, so this was bound to go smoothly.

Because you didn’t realise there was a guardian with them, perhaps you’d grown arrogant.

“I’m sorry, maestro. It’s reserved.”

“But it’ll become a waste in his possession!”

As you slipped away into the crowd, mouth watering at the fresh-baked bread you were going to devour as soon as bought, this brown dog leaped up at you out of nowhere, ignoring your desperate efforts to shake him off. If anything, they caused him to bark.

No, no, no…

The three men turned to the scene playing out not so far, and thinking his dog was bothering you one of them shouted, “Bam, come here, boy!” but as he obediently ran to his owner, you were too slow to hide the bags in your hands. It only took the pair a second to make them out, check whether theirs still hung on their belts, find them not, work out you’d stolen them, look back up, and find you not either.

Of course, you’d made your escape by then, dived into the sea of people and swum through them as quickly as possible, only stopping when you reached an empty vaulted alley to catch your breath.

That was ridiculously close. If you weren’t more careful next–

Your train of thought was interrupted by someone grabbing you by the arm from behind and pushing you against the nearest wall. A grunt accompanied the thud, and a gasp followed at the sight of the two men from before—dog included. Pinned in place, it’d be a bad idea to fight back or attempt to run away again. Fuck’s sake.

“Do you know what happens to thieves?” the one cornering you asked so close that when the cold breeze rustled his hair, some strands grazed your face. You looked away to avoid the tickling rather than out of fear, or so you wanted to believe. “They have a hand cut off. Seems fair, doesn’t it, Jimin?”

By contrast, that Jimin didn’t look intimidating, otherwise still catching his breath from the chase, but he did snatch the coin bags from your hands. “It doesn’t have to be so, maestro. We got our money back. She’s… just a girl.”

“And that exempts her of crime?”

“Please, don’t report me,” you begged, humiliating as though it was.

“Why shouldn’t we?” the maestro scoffed. Maestro… You were being threatened by a damned craftsman, the other one probably his assistant.

“Because I don’t want to lose a hand?”

“Oh, but we wanted to lose money, did we?” You rolled your eyes, and he released his grip only to step away. “Take us to your father, brat. He’ll answer for you.”

It took you a moment to respond, “I don’t have a father, or anyone... Only I can answer for my actions.”

“You’re a beggar?” Jimin asked, taking pity as he studied your appearance for the first time. Dishevelled hair, tattered dress, unpleasant smell… Yes, they should’ve guessed.

“She doesn’t beg, though, does she? She steals.”

“Only from cunts.”

His head snapped to meet your glare, and Jimin laughed, “You seem to not know whom you speak to.” He could be Jesus for all you cared. Uninterested, you petted the dog, Bam, seeing as he’d leapt up at you again. “This is Jeon Jungkook.”

You froze. The Jeon Jungkook? The famous artist who painted and sculpted for the Pope? Whom faraway kings and even emperors commissioned? The one whose genius was said to be changing the world?

At the lack of attention, Bam returned to his master, and that snapped you out of your shock to ask, “Then why do you whine?” The two men frowned, having clearly expected an apology paired with the usual bootlicking. “As if you need that bag more than I!”

“What nerve,” he scoffed again, making you wince by grabbing your arm tighter than before and starting to drag you into the next street. “You’re going straight to the authorities!”

“Wait,” Jimin intervened, thank God. “Weren’t you in need of a servant, maestro?”

“So?”

Jimin pointed at you with his gaze as though it was obvious. “You’re in need of a servant, she’s in need of a roof.”

“I would rather have a hand cut off.”

“I would rather have her hand cut off too.”

Jungkook tried to resume dragging you, but Jimin blocked his way with a soft smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N…”

“Do you know how to take care of a household?” Slowly, you nodded, melancholy engulfing you at the memory of cooking or sweeping the floor with your mother once upon a time. Somehow, she always found a way to make chores fun... “Then you qualify for the job. You’ll have three meals a day and a bed to sleep on. And you, maestro, a servant who’ll work her hardest, lest you fire her and she ends up in the streets again.”

Both you and Jungkook reluctantly glanced at each other. Truth be told, you didn’t prefer losing a hand to living with him, you just didn’t like him. Despite being a celebrity, he was a stranger. It just wouldn’t work.

But then, why were you holding your breath, hoping he’d accept?

“We shouldn’t have left Namjoon’s workshop. The marble is about to be delivered,” he said walking away. The air left your lungs in disappointment. It seemed you were to remain a stray cat. Jimin pressed his plump lips apologetically as he gave you enough coins to buy that bread, and you nodded, grateful all the same for his trying. You watched him rush to Jungkook’s side but when this one saw him, he turned around. “Hurry up, brat. If Taehyung gets that block of marble, I’ll not take you in.”

Since the first day, you could attest to Jeon Jungkook’s nature being as rough and uncouth as the rumours claimed, and after living alone with him for two months still believed gossip such as that he’d got the scar on his left cheek in a tavern fight—in which, if you’d chanced to be present, you would’ve rooted for the other individual.

It appeared it wasn’t just others Jungkook was harsh to. However rich his talent had turned him, he behaved like a poor man, consuming food and drink sparingly and out of necessity instead of pleasure, spending only the money required to live decently, sleeping little in order to work on commissions from dawn to midnight…

Why he chose to take little care of himself was a mystery to someone who previously had not been allowed a choice, even if putting work before all was in order to thwart Kim Taehyung’s plans of ruining his career, as he claimed. You doubted his rival was obsessed with him so, but had learned to agree with whatever Jungkook grumbled to avoid disputes. Most times.

Deep down, you had a feeling your boldness amused him. Who else dared get on his nerves?

“I think all you artists fluttering around the Pope are no more than slaves to money,” you let drop once while making his bed. Bam was sleeping peacefully under the window, while Jungkook leaning against the door’s frame behind you, offended to the core. He could help, you thought, or at least loosen my corset a little…

“I, a slave? I’ll be damned… There is an angel inside every block of marble, and I’ll have you know I carve to set it free.”

“Is it the angel that charges the Pope, then, master?” You could feel him barely restraining the urge to throw you out the window, smiled as you finished smoothing out the blankets.

“You missed a wrinkle there.”

Hands on your hips and frown on your brows, you examined the neatly arranged coverings of his bed. “Where?”

“On your face,” he muttered before making his leave.

Not his finest jibe, but the metaphor did stay with you. An angel inside the marble… It perhaps applied to Jungkook himself, though you’d never tell him.

One instance it came to mind was recently, when his assistants and apprentices were invited over for dinner.

Usually, he’d tell you which meals he liked and you’d ask at the marketplace which ingredients to buy, but now that about ten meals were to be cooked a list was needed. So there he sat on his desk in his study, inking said list as you waited in front of him, fiddling with the undershirt that peeked out of your dress’ sleeves. Given that your eyes were fixed on it, you only learned Jungkook was done when the sound of his quill scratching the paper ceased.

“Be back no later than dusk,” he ordered, “I bet there are still Germans and Spaniards lurking about.”

A year had passed since the Sack of Rome, but the mention of it sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Whatever the political reasons for it, you hated everyone involved, for Hell itself would’ve been a more beautiful sight to behold those nine months when the Tiber’s waters remained painted red…

You were lucky to make it through. Your family wasn’t.

“Yes, master.”

“Here,” he said handing you the paper, then picked another letter from a pile of correspondence he’d been going through before your arrival. Jungkook was about to snap its wax seal when he looked up to realise you hadn’t moved an inch. “Why are you here? Away with you!” He saw the reason in the way you avoided eye contact. “You can’t read, can you?” Met with a silence charged with embarrassment, he leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Give me the list.”

Getting hold of the quill again, Jungkook began… doodling?

You tilted your head but couldn’t see well what he was drawing until he finished and returned the list to you. Then, your lips parted. Each item on the list was illustrated next to its name: ten loaves of bread, a jug of wine, tortellini, four anchovies, two fennel soups…

“I’ll teach you to read when I have time. This will do for now.”

“You’d do that?” For me?

Jungkook ignored you, before he went back to reading his letters complimenting the good gesture with an irritated, “Hurry up.”

That night his co-workers arrived one by one, Jimin the first. The sight of him when you opened the door brightened up your mood.

Unlike a certain someone he was always sweet to you, genuinely interested to know how you fared even if you were just a servant. He claimed that mattered not to him, that you were both commoners and thus equals.

“Look at this place, it’s spotless! And you know I’m furtive, so I won’t get in your way,” you told Jimin as you escorted him through a hallway, bright from the torches hung on the walls that you’d lit up earlier.

He laughed, “I cannot make you my servant, Y/N, you’re maestro’s.”

“But he’s going to drive me mad… To tell you one of many examples, he often falls asleep in his clothes, and who but I is to take his boots off so they don’t get the sheets dirty? If the chalk on his fingers or the dust from the chiseling on his hair won’t already. Bam is far cleaner…”

Jungkook had a workshop he barely set foot in, preferred his team made use of it instead to not be bothered by their idiocy. His words. So it was in a chamber on the ground floor of this house he gave way to artistic insanity. In your book, that meant constant cleaning.

Jimin looked at you fondly. “Sounds nightmarish.”

“It truly is!”

As soon as the two of you entered the dining hall, Bam ran from Jungkook’s side by the fireplace to Jimin, who was as excited to see him.

“Good night, maes–”

“Do you think I’m deaf, ungrateful brat?” Jungkook interrupted him to bark at you. “Rome is full of people begging to get a piece of me, so if you don’t like it here, I’ll just get someone else!”

“You say that and yet keep me like a prisoner!”

“As if you don’t have it better here than anywhere you’ve burdened with your presence before!”

“There, there…” Jimin interjected to de-escalate, kneeling to better stroke Bam. “Maestro, I’ve seen your latest sketch of the Virgin and Child. She resembles Y/N.”

Both you and Jungkook failed to fight off the embarrassment, gazes unable to find a place to settle. Sitting down on the large table, he explained, “It was just one time… I had used Yoongi as a model, but the Madonna looked too masculine... and rather than going through the trouble of finding some girl and hiring her, I had Y/N pose for me… So what! Why bring it up out of nowhere…”

“Because maybe you just need a bit of distance from time to time. With permission, I too would have Y/N pose for m–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now, why the hell not?” you groaned stamping your foot, startling poor Bam. Hope had been born inside you in a second and cruelly crushed in the next.

“Because I say so. And watch your tone with me.” As usual, the mutual glaring would trick anyone into thinking the next step would be murder. Jimin, who knelt there awkwardly, certainly thought so, at least until the bell rang. “Now go answer the door!”

What happened later, though, rendered the fury Jungkook had evoked in your heart nonexistent and instead seized the thing in a clasp of distress.

In the morning, he walked in when you were sweeping the kitchen. At once you forced the sobs to stop and turned around so he wouldn’t see you wipe your tears.

“It’s past nine, where’s breakfast?” he asked in shock that you hadn’t even started making it, the table there empty.

You swore under your breath before leaving the broomstick leaning against the nearest wall, flushed face kept out of Jungkook’s sight, then in a haste fetched a plate, a knife, and a leftover bread loaf. “Apologies, master, I forgot. I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Sniffling betrayed you, at which Jungkook frowned. “Are you crying?”

Great, the question just about especially designed to make one well up. Not trusting your voice anymore, you shook your head. Jungkook approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the task at hand, now cutting a few slices of the bread.

“Have you broken something?” You shook your head again, the suppressed sobs making your chin tremble. Jungkook took a deep breath before asking with a surprisingly soothing tone, “Then what’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Within an hour, he’d summoned a meeting consisting of all who’d attended dinner the previous night.

A seemingly calm Jungkook was sat at the head of the table, elbows sunk on it and fingers interlocked. You stood behind him, head still low out of shame. A tense silence had fallen in the chamber some time ago, and sick of it, Jimin shattered it.

“Have you anything to tell us, maestro?”

“I was waiting for Biagio to do so.”

The man was one of Jungkook’s favourite assistants who had worked with him for years, even longer than Jimin. And if it was possible for your position to be trickier, he belonged to some noble family.

“Me? But I’ve nothing to say, maestro.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair. “My servant will, then. Y/N?”

Bastard. If you are going to fire me, why make me go through this?

“Last night, w-when I left this hall to go refill the wine jug… Messer Biagio followed me into the kitchen, and… h-he trapped me from behind, and started t-to touch me…” Your vision soon blurred, hence why you couldn’t see clearly how concerned Jimin was for you, or how Biagio jumped up in outrage. “I managed to push him away, and ran upst–”

“How dare you slander me, wench? Maestro, you do not believe this!”

“Do I not?”

“She’s lying! I caught her stealing sketches from your study, likely to sell them, so she’s trying to get rid of me!”

You almost scoffed. Only an idiot would choose the one occasion guests had come over and her absence would be noticed to carry out a theft.

Jungkook tilted his head. “I thought you had nothing to say. Why would you keep such a thing just now?”

Biagio gulped. “I deemed it best to mention it later, in private... You won’t believe a pickpocket before an old friend, will you?”

Silence returned, your breath still as you saw all the assistants and apprentices visibly take pity on him. The only one who didn’t was Jimin, but even on his face there was a hint of hesitation. Jungkook’s, you couldn’t see from behind, but after an eternity he stood up and walked over only to put a hand on the shoulder of Biagio, who smiled in relief.

A quiet sob broke through your lips, heart sinking. You’d needed Jungkook to believe you in this. Not because of the consequences his protection as your master could save you from, but because, like it or not… he was the closest thing to family you had.

It turned out he did believe you, judging by the punch landed on Biagio’s jaw out of nowhere. And the next one on his cheekbone, and on his nose. Before everyone around the table had barely stood up to stop Jungkook, he’d already thrown Biagio down and straddled him, pulling his doublet’s collar in a close, tight grip as he continued beating him up. Blood was drawn, but for once, you didn’t mind having to scrub it later.

Jungkook’s influence trumped a whole noble house’s, you learned in the course of the months Biagio tried his mightiest and failed most miserably to have him arrested. Perhaps because of the Pope sitting on his shoulder.

That he’d taken your side was still hard to believe, all he’d grumbled with a shrug when you thanked him while tending to his wounds from the fight being, “I’d been waiting for the chance. I always thought Biagio was a weasel.”

With the matter resolved, life returned to normal—well, whatever that meant in Jeon Jungkook’s household. Because calling for you at the top of his lungs like a madman was not normal. The first time he���d done it you’d raced downstairs, afraid something horrible had happened, only for him to have you close a window as it was getting chilly. Devil rot him. You rushed no longer after that, much to his complaints.

Today, he didn’t notice right away when you appeared under the cased opening, and good thing he didn’t, for he was polishing a bust with sandpaper… shirtless.

Product of hours carving stone into his desired shape or occasionally beating someone up, he could brag of having muscles, which the current task had covered in a layer of sweat and dust. The way they flexed with each movement had you compelled, wanting to reach out, feel if his skin was as hot as the blood pumping through your veins faster and faster. Then your gaze moved to the bust and whatever spell you were under broke.

Hardly an angel was that widowed noblewoman, whom you wished had stayed trapped inside a block of marble. Her name was Madonna Maddalena, and she’d come some weeks past to make a commission covered in pearls, gold, and boldness.

“My friends refused to accompany me today. You’re said to be… disagreeable, which I’m sure is untrue. However, all of them do want to know if you’re as fine-looking as is also rumoured, maestro” she told Jungkook within minutes of meeting him, still by the entrance!

Now you can tell them he’s not, you bit your tongue before it remarked, as this wasn’t Jimin but a patron not to be scared away by your bickering. It wouldn’t be true anyway. All your master lacked in manners, he made up for with looks… Which you’d never say out loud. You’d never say either that he looked even better when irked.

“I’ve heard many rumours about myself, most of them nonsense. My appearance was involved in none.”

She smiled seductively. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to spread them.”

“The weather is pleasant today,” Jungkook changed the subject, flustered beneath the formal demeanour. “Shall we have wine in the garden?” You left to prepare it not before catching Maddalena raise her brow at you in disapproval. She must’ve been able to tell you thought she was a pompous cunt.

The beautiful flowers you cared for tried their best outside, but the air didn’t get any better.

Sat around a small table, Maddalena explained she wanted a bust of herself by his talented hand to decorate the main hall of her palazzo. You served them wine, not really listening until Jungkook started playing hard to get. The hundred times you’d told him it wasn’t a good tactic to make his labour out to be too prestigious had apparently fallen on deaf ears.

“Any other artist could carry this out, Madonna. I am working for the Pope these days…” he subtly scolded her, a mere mortal, for wasting his precious time. And he wondered why he had a reputation for being arrogant.

Maddalena put his thoughts into plain words, “So why should you stoop to taking commissions from an insignificant widow?”

“Correct,” you said under your breath, luckily heard by none from the background, where you stood holding a wine jug until the madonna raised her cup and you approached to refill it.

“It is then fortunate I’m to marry a nephew of the Pope’s.”

Swayed by her future influence, Jungkook smiled back. “So it is.”

“But not for another week. ‘Till then, I belong to no man.” The suggestion in her tone almost drove you to spill wine all over her. No, better yet: order Bam to sic on her. He’d do it.

Just, who did this woman think she was? And why did Jungkook not kick her out right afterwards? It made you wonder whether he’d enjoyed the flirtation. Whether he would’ve been the one to take things further had his inconvenient servant not been present. It was common for men to have affairs and lovers, but it didn’t sit well with you that Jungkook might. Not that you ever imagined him doing any of that, for goodness’ sake–

“What took you so long?”

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to the present, under the cased opening.

“I was lazing about, as always,” you quoted his favourite false reprimand, making him roll his eyes, your own dropping to the floor when he walked closer.

“In that case, prepare a bath for me.”

“Yes, master.”

You sighed at all the work ahead. That being a servant was worlds better than living in the streets didn’t mean you looked forward to collecting gallons of water from a well, carrying them back, heating them, transferring them to a tub, then washing Jungkook—because you did wash him.

Biagio had hurt his left shoulder bad and ever since, he’d needed assistance in certain activities. Curious how he could otherwise chisel a goddamned bust without problem.

Jungkook’s full nudity only made you blush if you stopped scrubbing, so knelt with tucked up sleeves before the wooden tub he was reclined on, scrubbing away the dirt on his skin with lavender-scented soap you were. Maybe all the stupid feelings you’d been suffering lately stemmed from there…

Head resting on the edge, he was exhausted from the long day of work, taking your rubbing as a relaxing massage. You, however, couldn’t ignore the stinging guilt, what with the scar on his shoulder right in front of your face. He probably felt your breathing on it.

“I’m sorry you got hurt…”

Jungkook fought heavy lids only to see you avoid him. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable in front of him was embarrassing, as when he’d caught you crying, but he didn’t take advantage of the fact to humiliate you. Jungkook may be an ogre, but he wasn’t cruel.

“I’ve received worse for less,” he assured you in a calm, low voice. It sounded soothing to your ears.

“That, I don’t doubt,” you scoffed, glancing at his other scar on the cheek. “Did you also get that one in defence of some lady?”

“You’re nowhere close to a lady.” It could be done, you mused. Drowning him. “This was courtesy of my brother.”

“You have a brother?” It dawned on you how little you knew of him. Surely, most had heard it all about the divine Jeon Jungkook, but you’d never cared enough to learn past the shell of gossip, even after months of living with him. In fairness, he’d never asked about you either. You preferred it that way.

“Brothers,” he corrected you. “The one who did this to me was a wayward fool. Had to teach him a lesson.”

“Looks like he taught one to you.”

“I left with a scratch, he with a limp.” The conception of two brothers hurting each other so harshly widened your eyes for a second, and Jungkook noticed, for he added, “He was whoring around, wasting the money I worked hard to send, bullying our other brothers as well.”

Much made sense about Jungkook all of a sudden. Not his personality, that was incomprehensible. But why he killed himself to earn money and yet barely spent it… He had a family to provide for. Once again, you were reminded of his metaphor. Could an angel be in there?

Carrying on washing Jungkook, you dragged the sponge over to his neck. Then his collarbones, his chest, his abs just peaking above the water... They did look like a sculpture’s, especially wet and soaped, reminiscent of polished marble when the light of the torches reflected on them. Swallowing hard, the back of your fingers gingerly graced Jungkook’s muscles, both soft and firm. Slippery. Whatever possessed you to keep feeling them, you lacked the will to expel from your body, and so without realising your grip on the sponge loosened until it fell to float away, fingertips now free to roam over his abs.

You were slowly trailing downwards, past the water’s surface, when your wrist was seized and held in the air in a warning manner, the startle almost making you scream.

Sat upright, Jungkook was glaring at you so fiercely you feared for your life. But he didn’t say anything and instead just breathed hard, jaw clenched… almost as if he was holding back. Your rising heartbeat was deafening in the silence waiting for something to happen, anything, but what did wasn’t what a side of you anticipated with excitement.

Jungkook just let go of your wrist and returned to his previous position, and you got hold of the sponge and finished washing him, albeit holding your breath the entire time.

Days later, you came dangerously close to being fired.

The Pope had summoned Jungkook—something about a portrait commission—and you were to carry his bag filled with sketches for him due to his shoulder injury. As you navigated the ever-busy streets of Rome with him, the cold autumn breeze made you regret not putting on an overgown. The cioppa you’d bought with your own salary and not stolen. It brought a smile to your lips that faded at the realisation your mother would’ve reminded you to put it on before going out.

The sorrow pestering you turned to confusion when Jungkook stopped walking and tsked, telling you loud enough to be heard by all, “Look at him, the chief of police, with such an assemblage.”

A well-dressed man and what appeared to be his entourage walked in your direction, halting near enough. You didn’t have to ask to know this was his rival, the renowned painter Kim Taehyung.

“Whereas you, like an executioner, walk alone,” he mocked Jungkook, then noticed you standing behind him like a timid child. “Not completely, my mistake. Maestro, where in your barren soil did you plant such a flower?” He walked over to you, intentionally bumping Jungkook’s wounded shoulder as he passed, causing him to grunt lowly. From up close one was bound to marvel at how handsome Taehyung was, but you didn’t need proximity to tell he was a prick. Miles away, you would’ve known. “Why don’t you come work for me, flower? I’ll make you my muse.”

Jungkook scoffed again, “What, for your horseshit paintings? She’d be a fool to.”

Taehyung turned around to face him, feigning confusion with a smile. “But, maestro, how could they be so if you were once heard saying that all I have in art, I got from you?”

"You naturally have to resort to plagiarising my master’s genius if all you do is horseshit,” you countered, earning surprised looks from every man present, some laughs too, you were proud to say. Jungkook was certainly smirking. Taehyung opened his mouth, but you walked past him uninterested before a response came out of it.

“Good girl,” Jungkook laughed while leaving the crime scene, and for some reason your cheeks burned hot.

The incident happened once inside the Vatican.

Its grandiose corridors alone made you feel small, too unimportant to walk them, whereas Jungkook did so with determination, knowing he belonged at the top of the world. What with your tempestuous relationship, it was easy to forget he was famous throughout Europe. His feet would still never be kissed by you. Someone had to humble the man, right?

At some point the two of you arrived at a door flanked by guards, and averse, you grabbed the sleeve of Jungkook’s doublet.

“Do I have to go in?”

“Too good for the Pope, are you?” He shook you off. “Come on.”

“Damn you…” you muttered.

“What did you just say to me?”

“After you, master.”

Telling himself he’d be late if he scolded you, Jungkook turned and nodded at the guards, who opened the door of a chamber whose walls were frescoed with angels and saints, likely by Taehyung, giving off the impression one was in Heaven. When you saw him sat on a golden chair, old and grey, enjoying the tune of a lute player, you felt as though you’d just entered Hell.

The audience lasted for ever. While you stood by the door, Jungkook showed the Pope some sketches of the portrait for him to choose his favourite and then they talked and talked of politics. All you could do was fix your gaze somewhere on the floor and sigh.

“Yes, Your Holiness, this is the servant I mentioned…” A frown proceeded your looking up to see Jungkook somewhat embarrassed, scratching his nose as if to hide his face. He talked of you to others? Doubtless to complain…

With a sweet voice as if he was talking to a little girl, the Pope asked you, “What is your name?”

“None of your business, Your Holiness.”

The musician’s tune ceased abruptly, allowing Jungkook’s faint gasp to be heard. Then fell a short silence spent by the Pope blinking, taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

Jungkook was quick to fake a laugh, though sweat formed at his temples. “A jest! She meant no offence, Your Holiness, but to make you laugh.”

You held the Pope’s glare in defiance, indifferent to the fact he was the most powerful man in the whole of Christendom.

By some miracle, he let it go, and you left that chamber minutes later with your head as yet attached to your body. Your arm wouldn’t be for much longer, though, given Jungkook was forcibly dragging you all the way out to the streets, pushing you into the first alley he saw.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he shouted, towering over you menacingly. Unlike the day you’d met, you weren’t scared, rather furious as him as you stood your ground. “That was the Pope, you fool!”

“So?”

Jungkook was in utter disbelief. “He could’ve ordered your execution– mine too!”

“Well, nothing happened!”

“Nothing?! I’m sure to fall out of favour!” He paced around, anxiety quickening his breath. “Years of pouring my soul into my craft, of grovelling before the right people, all thrown away! Good God, your attitude may cost me everything…”

“And what about me?! Everything lost to me does not matter?!”

Jungkook stopped to frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was now you who walked up to him. “I didn’t have a job, or a reputation, or admirers. I had only a family, and I never wished for anything else! That monster you work for took them from me. When the foreigners’ armies came and everyone rushed to Castel Sant’Angelo, he gave the order to close the gates as soon as he was safe behind them! You must have been there with him, weren’t you? Well, we weren’t. We were left outside to be slaughtered. And I wish I had been, like my parents, so I didn’t have to suffer the likes of you any longer!”

Tears were streaming down your face by the end, Jungkook just staring back at you. It didn’t surprise him that your parents were dead or that they’d been killed during the Sack, but that it was so deep a wound left festering in your heart that you didn’t mind being put out of misery. He surmised your disrespectful behaviour towards him was also fruit of your pain, especially if you deemed him an ally of the one who caused it.

“The few things I own… They’re wasted on me. Throw them away or give them to your next servant,” you sobbed, taking for granted you were fired. Anyone with half a brain would indeed have you dismissed, and part of you knew it was bound to happen, that you would go back to breaking in fucking churches to spend the night.

So you turned around into the main street, set on wandering until your legs became too sore not to collapse. With any luck, a carriage would run over you. But warmth then surrounded your hand, and you looked down to see Jungkook’s holding it tight enough to force you to halt. Though still mad, a hint of compassion sparkled in his eyes.

“Let’s… Let us just go home.”

Home. His house had felt so for a while now, truth be told. Himself too.

After that, you non-verbally agreed on a ceasefire—avoiding quarrels, that is, which was quite the task for both.

Such as now that Jungkook had you inking down a letter in his name. First of all, did you look like a scribe? If you’d known in advance the lazy arse would teach you to read and write for this, you’d have chosen to remain illiterate. And second, this was your short break before making dinner, intended to be spent playing with Bam. The poor thing was also in the study, at least being stroked by his owner, who was sat beside you on the desk.

“… I send you my regards, may God keep you from all harm. Jeon Jungkook in Rome,” he finally finished dictating, and you recording. “Give it to me, I’ll seal it.”

He was melting the wax with which to do so when the bell rang, to his surprise. Sighing, you stood up and went to open the door to whom turned out to be Jimin. The sight of him brightened you up, and yours stretched his lips into a smile.

“Evening, Y/N.”

“Good evening! I didn’t know the master was expecting you.”

“He isn’t…” You welcomed him in, brows joining at how he continuously chewed on his aforementioned lip and breathed deep through his nose as he followed you. Had something happened…? A decision to eavesdrop was made en route to the study.

Though Jimin requested for you to stay once there, and nothing could have prepared you for the reason why.

“This actually concerns Y/N…” You and Jungkook exchanged confused looks, him leaning against the desk and crossing arms as though he didn’t like the sound of that. Jimin fixed his already perfect clothes before addressing him, “I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.” Your jaw dropped. “I know it’s sudden at the lack of previous courtship, but I thought I should ask for your permission before engaging in it, maestro. She’s a lovely girl… and I think she’d be happy as my wife. Worry not, I won’t ask for a dowry or for her to stop working… Although on second thought, fewer hours of service would be ideal.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening.

Jungkook must be thinking the same, for he squinted to ask, “Are you drunk?”

“N-No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? You want to marry a servant with little to her name.” He had a point, so you weren’t offended. If politics weren’t the reason for a union, did this mean… Jimin had feelings for you?

“Maestro, you say it as if I were a lord,” he chuckled. “I don’t care about Y/N’s possessions, I’ll provide for her anyway. I’ve… always been fond of her. And I dare say she shares the sentiment.”

Betrayal hid safely behind a look that asked if there was any truth to that. Obviously not! There was no romance in your own fondness for Jimin. If anything, you had thought he saw you as a younger sister to look after, therefore as a protective older brother you saw him. But so shocked were you still that no words managed to come out, and Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to Jimin.

“I’ll think about it. You may go.”

A curt tone was the norm for Jungkook, it was not being granted his blessing that disappointed Jimin. He knew for a fact he was an honourable man, so why wouldn't he entrust you to him?

“Quite well… I’ll show myself out.” he uttered, before making his leave failing to hide his low spirit by giving you one last shy smile you hadn’t the heart to return.

An awkward silence filled the air that even Bam daren’t break. Only once the front door was heard shutting did you walk closer to Jungkook.

“You won’t agree to this, will you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have to get rid of you at some point.”

“Rid of me? Like I’m a burden?” you asked, voice rising. How a servant could be so was unknown to you until, like wooden ship toys did when you’d submerge them in a bucket of water as a child, certain guesses surfaced in your thoughts. Trying to pickpocket him, the constant clashing, Biagio, that bath, the Pope… Yes, you may perhaps be described as a burden. But you didn’t want to leave. With a calmer tone, you pleaded, “I’ll behave from now on. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

Jungkook didn’t deign to look your way as he left, followed by Bam. “You have to marry at some point, Y/N. Otherwise people will gossip.”

Since when did he care about what people said of him? And why should you?

Winter having dropped its anchor, nightfall arrived early. Not early enough, you brooded as you cooked dinner, longing for the day to end once and for all. With any hope, all of this was a nightmare and upon waking up in the morning life would go back to normal. You didn’t even know why you wanted to stay with Jungkook, as the occasions in which you’d begged Jimin to employ you to leave this house were countless. The only certain thing was that you were upset.

Later, after washing all plates and cups, you began to put off all torches lighting the house, finding out in the hall that Jungkook hadn’t moved from the seat he’d dined in. You considered carrying on with your job and leaving him in the dark, but he wouldn’t find it as funny. Instead, you stood before him.

“Will that be all, master?”

The coldness in your expression made him sigh, “Y/N–”

“I shall retire, then.” You turned to leave but were made to stop in your tracks.

“It’s an advantageous proposal for you,” he lectured to whom he must believe an idiot. “Jimin works for me, he’s wealthy. A better match than you could ever aspire to. And he asks for no dowry because he doesn’t want money, he wants you…” His words were tainted with resentment. “He’ll take good care of you.”

Skirt of your dress swirling along, you faked a smile. “If you think so, master, then it must be so.”

He shook his head as he leaned back in defeat. “Suit yourself, but I won’t be the one to reject Jimin. You crush his heart.”

A laugh escaped you. “If you genuinely cared about him, you wouldn’t let him marry a woman in love with–” Oh no. It only hit you as you were saying it.

Jungkook had appeared annoyed, but now he was mad. “Who?” He stood up abruptly—chair’s feet scratching against the floor making you wince—and walked so close you were backed against the wall, face forced to turn to a side. In a low, deep voice, he repeated, less as a question and more as an order this time, “Who.”

There was no way in the nine circles of Hell you’d say it, when you didn’t want to believe it in the first place. For fuck’s sake, why? Jungkook only ever made you want to get away from him. That was the case right now, but then… why were your feet frozen?

Some unreasonable part of you seemed to have prevailed upon the others, casting away all resistance from your body and allowing yourself to indulge in Jungkook’s proximity. You met his eyes without fear, held his dark gaze. It didn’t take him long to work it out, yet he kept close, so close your unsteady breaths mingled, the effect akin to intoxication. He was visibly trying to hold back, telling himself it’d be a bad idea, but you prayed he wouldn’t care.

By God or the Devil, your prayers were heard.

Jungkook finally smashed his lips into yours, devouring them with a hunger you shared and felt growing as he gripped your waist to press you against him. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have imagined his tongue belonged inside your mouth, swirling around your own, and now you wanted it all over your body. As if reading your mind, Jungkook broke the ardent kiss to move down to your neck, which he licked painfully slowly before sucking hard, making you hiss with pleasure. He knew that would leave a mark, the bastard. You wondered if it was meant for Jimin, so he’d see you were Jungkook’s, and in such case you didn’t mind, let your eyelids close to enjoy it.

Steered by the lust possessing you, one hand grabbed his soft hair in a fistful, keeping his head in place where he was sweetly abusing your neck, while the other travelled southwards until it reached his crotch and held it over the trousers, feeling his cock stiffen. Jungkook groaned—a vibration to your skin—in retaliation lifting your skirt. You’d thought he'd take his time, tease you, but after ensuring you were wet enough by gliding his middle finger along your core, he slid it inside and began making beckoning motions.

“Master…” you moaned, legs shaking. Jungkook forsook your neck to pull back, watch how you struggled to keep it together as he added another finger, curling and uncurling them both, hitting all the right places, and unwilling to give him that satisfaction without consequences you groped his erection with the same vigour. Although he was in good control of his expression, his breath quivered against your lips, so he kissed them again, biting hard into your lower one.

He exhaled, “You’re driving me to sin…”

Indeed, the same fingers that held the brushes when he painted religious artwork were buried deep inside your cunt, bringing you the most sinful ecstasy. It made you chuckle. Jungkook took that as the mockery it was and, crossed, pulled his fingers out of you to drag you by the arm to the edge of the table, where he had you sit. Without delay he lifted your skirt again, only this time he also pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock, thick and throbbing, which he pumped as he watched you spread your legs eagerly, ready to take all of him.

With his free hand Jungkook cupped your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip, coated with saliva and reddened still from when he’d bit it. He could sense your desire, that you craved him inside, had for a while. Desperately. And however much tempted he was to make you beg for it, his own arousal led his cock to your entrance and eased it inside already, another groan hitting the back of his bared teeth. You didn’t have time to gasp, his thrusts so quick they earned only moans, so wonderful did it feel.

Jungkook’s hand on your cheek then wrapped around your neck. “Do you know how often I’ve fantasised strangling you?”

You chuckled again as you slapped him across the face. Jungkook halted his movements in shock, glared at you. “And I slapping you?”

It took him a moment, but he scoffed and pushed you back so that you were lying down, climbing next atop you, confident that the wooden table was sturdy enough to hold both. So legs hooked around his torso and arms around his neck, you welcomed his thrusts, rough enough to make your eyes water. But it felt heavenly, how he ravished you... The mutual irritation and tension building up for over half a year translated into indescribable pleasure.

He kissed you again, flicking his tongue against yours as he pounded into you without mercy. Overwhelmed by the sensation, all you could do to express you were nearing your limit was sink your nails into Jungkook’s biceps at each side of you, moan inside his mouth. He took the hint and fucked you as fast as his body would allow, within mere seconds your walls clenching tight around him. The sight of you collapsing under him, overcome with bliss, made him reach his own highest shortly, spurting his warm seed inside you.

As his movements gradually ceased, so did your panting. Before a complete silence fell, you asked, “Am I still to marry Jimin?”

Jungkook grabbed your face and growled against your pouted lips, “You’re not going anywhere.”

[snekdood]

the problem with conservatives is they think you challenging their beliefs is somehow oppressing them

[fozzieosbourne]

Matthew Porretta auditioning for Bambi Cottage

Back to posting the Golden Retriever Man ™

How in the HEAVENS is this guy so adorable I wanna cry 😭✨🥹🙏💞😘🥰🩷🫠💖

Link {x}

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby

- gojo satoru x reader

a domestic life with your husband and baby

genre: teeth-rotting fluff, sugary dump fluff, and simply pure fluffff, baby-related, mentions of pregnancy, dad!gojo

note: inspired by this fanart by Deltapork in twitter! from the moment i saw that artwork, i just can't get this out of my head😫

and this is a part of a series of gojo drabbles i’ve planned called gojo's love entries anthology -> updated masterlist here

general masterlist

Watching your husband entertain your child would never fail to make you smile.

"Aw, my cute baby!" Satoru joyfully exclaimed as he and the baby, secure in his hold, emitted almost harmonious squeals of delight. Both of them practically shared the same brain cells at this point.

And it was a sight that warmed your heart so much, especially when the old Gojo Satoru was a prick who used to made little Megumi cry just for the sake of it and always said that babies and everything that came with them were a pain.

He playfully devoured your son's plump cheeks and burst into laughter, paying no attention to the curious glances he garnered from other shoppers at the supermarket.

"Satoru, hush," you chided gently as you pushed the cart, yet still smiling all the same.

"Ah, look, mama doesn't approve," he remarked to your babbling son, wearing a playful pout. At the same time, your barely seven-month baby puckered his lips too, turning him into a perfect miniature version of your mischievous husband at his best, melting your heart even further.

"It's time for his milk," you pointed out, retrieving the milk bottle. Satoru reached for it and offered it to your baby, who eagerly latched on and started drinking.

Your precious baby continued to feed on the formula, clearly relishing it. It appeared that he couldn't get enough, with the way he drank with such enthusiasm.

"He's a hungry baby... just like you," you mused.

Satoru laughed out loud once again. "Why are you comparing a baby with a grown-ass man?"

Your son was still drinking the milk and seemed like he wanted more, but you could definitely tell how content he was in that moment.

"Because it's your baby, duh. And not only he looks like you, he's also reflecting what you've been doing to me so far, it's uncanny."

"So I've turned our son into a mini-me now, have I." He regarded you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what have I done to you, darling? Tell me."

"...A lot of bad things."

"Heh, is that so?"

The baby then stopped drinking and seemed to want you to cuddle him, as he reached his tiny hands towards you. Satoru handed him over to you, taking the bottle away, and you gently pulled him close, cradling him against your chest.

"Yeah. Bad, bad things," you cooed to your baby, your eyes sparkling with joy. "First you seduced me, then got me pregnant. And then you forced me to go through that painful labor."

Satoru didn't miss the way the clerk eyed him after you said that. But he chuckled anyway. "Well... in the end you fell for me, and I probably seduced you a bit..."

He paid for the groceries and then the two of you walked out of the supermarket.

"But is that so bad?" He continued with a meaningful smirk. "You seemed like you love it so there's nothing to complain about."

"Hmph."

"And then I got you pregnant... well, you wanted a baby, dear, so you can't really be mad and blame just me for it all, okay?"

The fact that you were having this crack conversation at a crossroad made you struggle to stifle your laughter, to say the least.

Your son was still cuddling up to your chest and now he was looking at you with those wide, glassy blue eyes. You could tell how much he liked and needed you, as well as spending time with you, his mother.

This is your baby with the man who loves you. How could you not love him in return?

Satoru looked at his son in your arms. “Our son is the cutest, isn’t he?”

He seemed tired more than anything though, with the big yawn he just emitted.

“He is so… defenseless.”

“Well, he’s a baby,” your husband said matter-of-factly. “That’s how babies are, darling. He’s learning how to do things and completely defenseless, so he needs his parents. You and I.”

Your baby’s eyes became a little droopy. He was sleepy now, and wanted your warmth to fall asleep.

“Let’s… protect him together, yeah, Satoru?” you muttered softly as your child settled in your embrace, peaceful and content, falling asleep.

Your heartstrings were pulled when you witnessed the expression of absolute adoration on your husband's face.

“Silly. I’m the one who will protect both of you, sweetheart.”

[tame-the-lion-writes]

tomboy reader x 141 - shopping

(Light warning for reader being self-conscious and insecure about her femininity.)

For the longest time, the boys of 141 don't see their tomboy teammate as a "girl." Not maliciously, of course, but it simply doesn't cross their mind.

It's not that you aren't pretty, but they're so conditioned to see you as "another one of the guys" that they don't spare a passing glance. You don't exactly dress up, either, and they haven't seen you in a skirt or dress. Nor do you have the most feminine interests--at least not that they know of--because their time with you is spent shooting at enemies, covered in blood, and kicking up dust. In short, the usual masculine tendency to see women as precious or dainty doesn't kick in. Because you're anything but.

Because you're a soldier.

In a way, you've grown to love it and hate it. The feminist side of you craves that respect and treatment as an equal. The other side of you, however, whatever the label may be, craves the idea of being wanted. You want to dress up nice and be small and cute. You want to wear heels and fluttery skirts and bows. You want to feel so sweet and sugary, that you could curl up in the palm of someone's hand--not afraid to be vulnerable and adoring and soft. Because you'd trust that person to still love and care for you, no matter how weak you allow yourself to be.

You never bring it up, though. At least not until Price asks if you have anything to wear to some fancy event, where you're stuck with a good old dress code.

"Yeaah... about that," you say with a sheepish smile. "Might have to get time off base to find something, sir. Don't think the pantsuit from my friend's wedding is gonna cut it."

"You don't got a dress? Not even one?"

"Was never the most comfortable in 'em, sir. Besides, I'm saving up for a house," you shrug. "I'm not out to buy some thousand dollar getup or jewelry." (And therein, beneath, lay the denial that if you didn't try to look feminine, you wouldn't look ridiculous doing so--imitating something you could never be.)

"Ooh, we should go shopping," Soap suggests with grin, leaning forward from his seat on the couch. "Think ol' Ghost here needs a bigger suit, anyway. Put on a few pounds--"

"Soap--"

"--of muscle! What--you think I was shaming ya?"

You roll your eyes, an anxious heat burning in your cheeks. "I can handle shopping myself, guys." And you didn't want them to be judging you for anything you put on.

"Oh, please, Gaz an' I are used to tagging along with our sisters," Soap continues, wrapping an arm around his fellow sergeant. Surprisingly, Gaz agrees with a nod.

"Not saying that you have to take us with you," Gaz starts, "but waiting outside a dressing room a couple hours is nothing."

"Long as we get food, of course," Soap adds.

"Well," Price notes, clearing his throat, "I'm in need of a new tie, too, so seems like it's settled. Ghost--and you?"

The masked man lets out a grunt, arms crossed on his recliner.

"... New suit."

Cue a little, "Ha! I knew it," from Soap. As well as Price filing for a one day vacation from the base.

** * **

You can practically feel the eyes trailing after you and the boys while you walk through the mall. Soap is loud enough as is, and combined with Gaz, both make for a pretty face. Then there's Ghost who just towers over everyone and looks like a cryptid with his mask, and Price who follows with the charm of an older gentleman. A posse of bachelors, that is.

You pick at the hem of your sleeve as you walk ahead--the default leader for today, seen as despite the boys' side quests, the main quest was you. Dressing you up in an elegant dress. Finding you matching heels and accessories. Making you look pretty and presentable.

So now you're here, standing in the dressing room of a fancy first-class boutique you could otherwise never afford--if it weren't for Price's insistence that, as your captain, it was his responsibility to make sure you looked "dapper." You smooth out the off-white creme of the skirt, staring in the mirror; you think you look pretty enough, and the pearl earrings add a certain charm to your otherwise plain features. (Though really, you're stressed that you'll seem more like a child playing dress-up--riddled with the self-consciousness of a girl trying imitate her mother, looking back at the gaudy mascara and smudged lipstick across her cheek.)

But there's no stalling. No more taking forever. The clock is ticking, and you either be judged for how you look, or judged for wasting time, or breaking down in refusal. (You know they'd never judge you--they're good men, you know--but still. You'd pick at your sleeve again if it was there--)

"Ready," you call from behind the curtain, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the light.

And all your fears melt away when they stop their banter to look at you, and their eyes widen--then soften--at the sight.

[tofixtheshadows]

Id love to hear ur interpretation and analysis on falin! She’s one of my favorite characters and and I was wondering what ur thoughts on her are

Man, I struggle to think of anything I could say about Falin that others have not already said. But she's one of my favorite things about Dungeon Meshi too.

So much of the story revolves around Falin, and she's not even there. Tumblr loves to talk about haunting the narrative, but Falin might be one of the best examples of it ever put to page. She's dead. She's alive. She's dead. She's alive. She's alive but she's missing, she's alive but she isn't herself. She's dead but she might wake. She's dead but she's frozen in ice. She's alive but she's sleepwalking. They chase her ghost and they chase her body all through the story.

I think what Kui does with her is fascinating. Not just as character with a personality we can analyze, but as an object in a narrative- that's why I say she's one of my favorite things about the story, because I also mean it in a mechanical sense. As a writer, Kui's really good at misdirection- that is, setting you up to believe or expect something about a character or a plot, and then turning that on its head. It's most apparent with Kabru, but it works really well with Falin too.

Because the precious little sister is a very well known character archetype, right? So is the gentle healer. The heart of the party. The white mage girl. The damsel in distress. The martyr.

And this isn't a Laura Palmer situation, where we find out that beneath her wholesome surface there's something dark and troubled. No, Falin truly is a kind and gentle person. That isn't where the misdirection leads (and that, too, I think, is another misdirection- it's not "Plot twist, she isn't as nice as you thought!", which would almost be too easy).

The misdirection here is more about structure than about character (but also, yeah- a little about character).

What I mean is, with these archetypes firmly in mind, along with a whole other host of fantasy genre expectations, I think anyone who goes into Dungeon Meshi un-spoiled probably expects Falin's rescue to be an endgame event; at least on a subconscious level, where you're not really thinking about it but in the back of your head you're already stretching out the story to place Falin firmly in the distance. Fire breathing dragon at the bottom of the dungeon is perfect final boss material, right? Slay the dragon. Rescue the princess.

And Falin is the perfect prize in the traditional old school fantasy that the concept of the titular dungeon is a send-up to. Blonde (white), soft-spoken, sweet-natured, beloved by everyone. An angelic figure.

Maybe that's why Ryoko Kui gave her white wings.

It is sort of jarring when chapter 23 rolls around and it's already time to fight the red dragon. And it takes a few chapters, but they succeed. And then Falin's impossible resurrection succeeds. But by then you guess that this is not going to be the story you expected it to be.

I want to point out that Falin spends a lot of time getting, well, babied, post-resurrection. Marcille washes her in the bath, despite Falin stating that she's capable of washing herself. Marcille schools her about her mana use despite Falin demonstrating that she is not hurting for mana, and brushes aside Falin's explanations. Both Marcille and Laios refuse to actually tell her what happened. Laios scruffs up her hair like she's a little kid and scolds her for something she can't remember doing. Marcille explicitly calls her a little kid when Falin tries to talk about how much she's grown.

Of course I'm not saying that Laios was wrong to act like a big brother, or that Marcille shouldn't be worried about taking care of her shell-shocked friend in the bath. But the framing of it clearly shows a Falin who is struggling to be heard.

If you'd like to address the big gay elephant in the room while we're here, I want to state for the record that- whether you read her as gay or not -I think Marcille is completely oblivious during this. Because Falin is her little friend from school. Her best friend, yes, but also the young tallman student she, in her infinite elven wisdom, had to mentor and look after. Marcille has not yet accepted that Falin is an adult now, nor has she accepted that she, herself, is only barely past teenagerhood developmentally and is not nearly as mature as she believes. Of course she'd scrub Falin in the bath and fuss over her.

Falin, meanwhile, seems more than aware of her own adult body and the inappropriate way Marcille is treating it.

The mana-sharing scene is, I think, Falin trying to get a little of her own back. How do you like it, Marcille?

And she tries again in bed.

Maybe she's wondering if their relationship will change now that they're grown ups. If Marcille prefers her as a little girl, or at least as a woman who lets herself be guided like one; if Marcille will react badly if Falin keeps trying to assert herself. She also might be subtly trying to signal to Marcille that bed sharing, like bathing, carries a different weight to it when you do it as adults rather than as children.

With all this in mind, the decision to turn Falin from the precious prize they rescued into to the vicious dragon they have to slay, hits a lot harder.

Falin with a powerful, monstrous, destructive body. Falin, who couldn't even stand to cause people pain from using healing spells, slaughtering half a dozen people in brutal ways. And that's not her, she's being mind-controlled, but as an object in the story she has completely flipped. From damsel to threat.

And I love that she carries a little bit of that with her when she's resurrected again.

Because she's no longer the girl who's going to let herself be stifled by her brother's and her best friend's co-dependency, no matter how much she loves them. She's different now: stronger, eyes open, forging her own path instead of following in their wake. Falin is still going to come back to them again, but this time it won't be because they chased her. It'll be because they let her go.

[pepprs]

my mom isn’t letting my dad go back to his office bc him being out of the house stresses her out and makes her have a flare up and it’s like kind of insane. like i understand why the idea of him doing that would make her panicky and angry as someone who also struggles w separation anxiety and abandonment shit / has physical symptoms from that kind of stress (though not to the same degree ofc) but also he is a grown man. he should be allowed to go to his office and not have to shape his entire life around her needs. and she keeps guilt tripping him out of it and it’s impacting his quality of life a lot and the whole thing is kind of… hm

[bratbby333]

a proper send off — toji fushiguro

synopsis: step daddy!toji trains ur holes stakes his claim before you go off to college ♡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content warnings: taboo; step!cest, age gap (reader is over 18!), rough sex, lots of praise, teasing, heavy use of pet names, dom/sub, dd/lg, p in v, cervix-fucking, tummy bulge, buttplug, throat-fucking, edging, overstimulation, mating press, creampie ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ word count: 5.3k...straight filth ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: i was in a very specific mood when i wrote this...i hope you all enjoy!! xx not beta read !

nsfw 𓆩♡𓆪 mdni

"Toji!" you chirped, running toward the buff older man as he exited his vehicle. His arms stretched wide as he met you on the sidewalk, leaning down to catch your small figure as you leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He gripped you tight against his body, rocking the two of you back and forth. 

You had only been apart for about four hours, but it might as well had been three months with the way the two of you clung to one another. 

"How was orientation, my sweet girl?" Toji asked, lowering you to the ground gently, placing a light peck on the top of your head. Your small hand wrapped around his last two fingers as he guided you toward the car, opening the door and getting you settled in the passenger seat.

"Mmmm, super boring...but I learned a lot!" you beamed, shuffling your feet around the floorboards while he turned the key in the ignition. 

The ride home was filled with you telling Toji all about your class schedule, which courses you were excited about, and how your new dorm looked after you had finished decorating it. He smiled kindly, offering the occasional hum or nod in response—he found your aimless ramblings so precious. Your darling voice was like music to his ears. His sweet little girl.

But something plagued his thoughts during the forty-five minute trip. A lingering appetite that he worked so hard to suppress. A dark, elusive feeling that manifested in the pit of his stomach. His grip was tight on the steering wheel, teeth gritted ever so slightly. Worry crept across his face at the realization that the dreaded day rapidly approached him. He was sure he had more time.

He was going to lose you, the inevitability of college now knocking at the door. 

He had gotten so used to having you around, falling in love with your sickeningly sweet nature, your tantalizing aura that oozed innocence. He worried that you wouldn't make it out there on your own; even at your grown age you still looked to him for any sort of guidance, big or small. He loved it. Loved how much you depended on him, how you couldn't live without him.

He knew the sudden departure of your mother hurt you more than you let on, so he made it his mission to keep you safe, feeling wholeheartedly responsible for your well-being, even though he had only been in your life for about a year. 

It was the most fulfilling year he'd ever experienced, far better than the time he had spent with your mother. It was unexpected, hell, it was even frowned upon, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He loved you more than he ever could have loved her, feeling an odd sense of relief when she had finally left, and feeling elated when you decided to stay with him rather than her. A burning question stirred in the back of his mind; were these feelings reciprocated? He didn’t dare find out the answer, instead hoping it would be presented to him first.

It didn’t take much time for the truth to unfurl right before his eyes; why you really wanted to live with him rather than your mom, the (not so) innocent way you began to cling to him…oh, how you loved your Daddy, and how he loved his little girl, too.

Toji knew there was evil out there, people who would take advantage of your soft heart and overly-trusting nature without a second thought. He couldn't let you get hurt.

He tried his best to convince you not to go to college, or at the very least, just commute to campus each day. He wanted to keep you close, to be there for you, to protect you. 

He was successful at getting you to take a gap year, but he could tell his baby girl was getting antsy. Your stubbornness persevered— adamant about furthering your education and staying in the dorms. You were set on going out on your own and he knew he couldn't stop you anymore. 

But he couldn't send his pretty girl out into the world without breaking her in first. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Upon immediate entry to your home, you were ordered to the bedroom, the rough rasp of Toji's voice echoing through your ears as you made your way to his room. 

"Daddy, did I do somethin’ wrong," you questioned softly, lips pouted slightly, voice quiet as you fumbled with the hem of your short, pleated skirt. Seated on the edge of the bed, you kicked your feet around anxiously as he stared down at you. 

"No, nothin' like that, sweetheart," he soothed, grasping your face in hands, his rough thumbs dragging across your blushed cheeks. Your wide eyes swam with curiosity as you stared back up at him.

"Listen t'me very closely, darlin'," he continued, crouching down to your level. Your neck instinctively relaxed, your head falling into his hands, nuzzling into his grasp. "You're going out into the world alone...I won't be around to keep you outta trouble anymore..." his voice trailed off as his eyes searched yours. 

"Mhmm, I know, Daddy," you giggled back, "Y'tell me that everyday." This is why he loved having you to all to himself...in public, he was "Toji"; in private, you only ever called him "Daddy". His little girl was damn good at keeping secrets...it only made things more exciting.

The look in your eyes drove Toji wild; deep, enticing pools of virtue. It was only right that he got to be the one to ruin you, to give you a proper send-off. He hated the idea of you being with someone that wasn't him, so he hoped, prayed, to mold your pussy perfectly around his cock to ensure no other man could live up to the standard he set in your life.

A slight growl erupted from the back of his throat as he continued to pet you. "There's somethin' we gotta do, baby girl,'' he took a knee in front of you, his hands resting atop your plush thighs, massaging them gently. 

"You 'member what we had talked about when you finally decided to go away for college?" he added, working his way up under your skirt. Your breath hitched as you focused on the circles he was drawing on your upper thighs, your head dropping to the side. 

"Uh huh...I do, Daddy," you were already breathless as anticipation swirled through your stomach. Toji hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs. Your shirt was removed next, leaving you in only your lacy ankle socks and skirt. 

"You ready? Think ya can handle this, angel?" he asked sternly as he strummed around your warm center. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he played with your pussy. "Uh huh..mmm...yes, D-daddy..'m ready," your voice wavered as his thick finger prodded at your needy hole. 

He pushed you back onto the bed, dipping his digit into the second knuckle, curling it slightly to toy with your g spot. You were already a moaning mess for him, the high pitched whimpers that fell from your lips sent pangs of arousal straight to his dick. The way you writhed around for him at the smallest stimulation made his skin burn. 

Every moment you spent watching him from afar, your innocent daydreams that manifested into dark desires at night, the way you’d hug him for just a bit longer than usual; each time his mind wandered to you, guilt nipping at his spine…it was all worth it.

He was addicted to you well before he ever actually had you— but after that fateful night, a few weeks after the divorce was finalized and your mom moved out, with your unexpected appearance in his room as you crawled into bed with him. The way your arms wrapped so tight around him, how your soft breaths danced so delicately across his bare skin, how perfectly your nestled head fit into the crook of his neck. His appetite became insatiable...his baby girl. The smoothness of your skin as he traced drifting lines around each curve of your precious figure. He couldn't get enough. 

Toji dipped down to kiss along your sweet skin as his finger continued to shallowly work into your dripping cunt. He licked and nipped at you, the taste of your flesh overwhelming his senses. His tongue narrowed as he got to your ear, lapping at it feverishly, suckling at your lobe. "Sound so good f'me, baby." You panted at his words, the coils in your tummy beginning to bubble up. 

He felt you clench around him and immediately withdrew from you. You whined at his absence, your hole spasming around nothing, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt to quell the pulsing between your legs. He grinned at your anguished huffs as he stood, removing his clothes. Your need for release still churned in your stomach as a small groan left your lips, pouting up at him. Toji only chuckled in response. "Not yet, sweetheart..." he teased, tossing his shirt aside. He was moving in accordance with his deepest, darkest secrets...he needed you to want him, to crave him, to not want to exist without him.

You knew better than to complain, Daddy always came through for you.

"How do you wanna start, princess," he asked while discarding his jeans, his throbbing girth standing proud in front of you. He loved when you asked for what you wanted, when you spoke your mind without shame. That’s a big part of being independent, right? He wanted to teach you, after all.

"Can I suck it, Daddy...love the way you taste," you mewled, your words coated with neediness as you leaned forward to grasp him in your small hands, licking your lips as spit pooled in your mouth. Toji had you right where he wanted you, he worked hard to fine-tune your body to respond to him and only him. You were completely wrapped around his finger. You looked starved, desperate for his cock to pound into your throat. 

"Of course, baby, gotta train that mouth of yours, hmm?" he teased, smirking as he positioned himself in front of you. "Already take me so well...let's see how deep you can go." His thick, dripping head pushed past your lips, your tongue swirling around his tip as you worked to take him further, choking on him as he settled in the back of your throat. Your eyes welled up with tears as you struggled to breathe around his substantial girth. "Relax, baby girl...breathe through your nose f'me," he soothed, running his fingers through your hair before squeezing the sides of your cheeks. "Look s’pretty like this," he grunted, his hips rocking into your mouth slowly.

He worked his cock in and out, groaning at how tight your throat was constricting around him. "Mouth's so hot n wet f'me..doin so good princess," he muttered, his jaw tight as he watched his dick slide between your taut lips. He grasped at the back of your head firmly, his other hand still squeezing at your hollowed out cheeks. "That’s it…keep it nice n tight."

His pace picked up, the sloppy sounds of Toji fucking into the back of your throat danced around the heady air of the room. You stared up at him, blinking away the tears that poured from your eyes, eager to capture the way his face twisted in pleasure as trails of spit dribbled down your chin. You loved pleasing him…loved the way that even the biggest and strongest men’s composure could waver. You knew Daddy’s tipping point, and you were dead-set on taking him there.

You felt him twitch inside your mouth as you hummed against him, the vibrations running through his cock and straight to his balls, his head thrown back at the added stimulation. "Mmm, there ya go, sweetheart...so fuckin' good. Pretty girl wants my cum, huh?" 

You nodded furiously, or as much as you could with his dick in your mouth and his hand still palming the back of your head, his strokes forcing you to take all of him. 

You gasped and coughed as Toji abruptly pulled your head off him, smearing a mixture of saliva and pre cum across your cheeks as he rubbed himself around your lips. "Open...tongue out for me, baby girl," he commanded. You obeyed immediately, your wide, pleading eyes staring up at him as Toji smacked his rock-hard girth against your hot tongue.

His hands gripped either side of your head, pulling your hair into makeshift pigtails as he shoved into your mouth again, smirking as you gagged around him, spit running between your tits and pooling in your lap. His eyes went dark at the sight, utterly consumed by how beautiful you looked while you sucked him off. God, how he’d miss his little girl. He pulled you off him again, amused at how much his princess was struggling to take him. "C'mon, doll, I know you can do better than that," he taunted, before ramming himself back in. 

Your lungs burned while your mouth stretched wide to accommodate him, his thick head bullying the back of your throat. “Stay with me,” he grunted as he left small smacks against your taut cheeks. You fought against your heavy eyelids, struggling to hold his gaze. 

With a rough jut of his hips, your nose was flush against his pelvis while he unloaded down your throat. Tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks at the inundation, heat coursing through you at the carnal sounds that left his chest. He pulled out with a pop, leaving you sputtering and coughing. The savory warmth of his cum coated your tongue, licking your lips to ensure you didn't waste a drop.

You dizzily gazed up at him as you worked to regain your breath. "Open up, show me you swallowed it all," he murmured, his breathing labored as he cupped the underside of your chin. Your lips parted as you stuck your tongue out. Toji hummed in approval as he checked your mouth for any remaining trace of his seed. "Good fucking girl...so needy for Daddy's cum, huh?" You nodded, giggling breathlessly, your throat sore from Toji's intimidating girth.

"Lay back for me, sweetheart," he said firmly, stroking himself as he watched you readjust on the bed. Toji kneeled on the edge, grasping your legs and throwing them around his waist. "So pretty...you know those boys will be all over you, yeah?" 

You shook your head furiously, pouting at the thought of being with anyone but Toji. "N-no, no daddy...only wan' you," you huffed, locking your feet behind his back. Your hands splayed across his abdomen, tracing lines around his prominent muscles. He leaned forward to position himself at your soaked core. "Mm..I know, doll," he cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as his other arm propped himself up. "But I gotta get you good n ready just in case. I can't have you embarrassing me out there...I did raise you, after all," he spoke low, the rasp of his voice sending chills to your core. 

“Some of 'em will be gentle with ya,” he murmured, inching deeper and deeper into you. His face was kind, a small smile twitching on his lips. He looked down at you, his eyes brimming with adoration and arousal, the o-shape of your swollen, parted lips and flushed cheeks pulled a raspy groan from his chest. 

He sunk into your warmth, his thick cock dragging in and out gently, his head brushing against your sweet spot with merciful thrusts.

You fussed at his teasingly slow pace, his girth stretching you out perfectly. It took every ounce of his willpower to not break you in half right then and there, driving himself into you with fervor, the jealousy biting at his spine fueling each rough jut of his hips at the thought of you with someone else. He maintained his leisurely rhythm, working you up until you reached your breaking point. "Need more..ahh...p-please Daddy...give m'more," you begged.

“Mmm, I know you do...but I gotta show you what you're gonna get when you mess with boys." His unhurried strokes antagonized your milky cunt that ached to be pounded properly. You writhed around underneath him, bucking your hips in hopes that he’d give you more, but you knew your efforts were all in vain. Toji smiled down at you with a raise of his brow, still inadequately sliding into you. Oh how he loved how needy you were for him, how easy it was to make you squirm. You were close to breaking down, tears beginning to surface as you begged for him to go faster, harder…anything. 

“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” he taunted, his palms on either side of your cheeks, rubbing away your tears with a quick flick of his thumbs. “Uh uh…need more, please,” you whined, pressing your head against his hands. 

Toji stared down at you with a coy smile as he watched you unravel, how hungry your sopping walls were for a good pounding. He wanted to play with you some more, to have you crying over how badly you need him. "Ya like it rough, isn’t that right, my sweet girl?” He toyed with your puffy clit as his tempo remained steady. “Love when I use you as my pretty little fleshlight, yeah?”

You nodded furiously. He grinned down at you, pulling your hips up toward him as his tempo suddenly changed, the new angle pounding directly into your g spot. 

“A…ahh!! F-fuckkk, Daddy,” you cried out, your head bouncing around to match his forceful rhythm. His hips were mercilessly rutting into you, every jolt bringing you closer and closer to your release as he continued to thumb at your swollen clit. You clenched around him, eyes locked on his as short pants left your lips.

"No, baby...not yet." He pulled out immediately, flipping you, lifting your hips as he shoved a pillow under your stomach. His hands rubbed circles into the flesh of your ass as he prodded himself against your cunt. You moaned, ready to complain to him as your body ached for release. His palm found the back of your head, pushing your face into the mattress, successfully silencing you. “Shh…let me play with you, princess.”

Toji flipped up your skirt to reveal the pink rhinestone nestled perfectly between your cheeks. "That's my girl, kept it in all day f'me, hmm?" He gripped the plug and pulled it out, spitting a fat glob of saliva onto the hole before circling the sensitive ring and shoving it back in, plunging the toy in and out of your tightness. 

Your hips pushed toward him, your already broken resolve absolutely crumbling from the prodding sensation in your ass. You prayed he'd let you cum soon. An unbearable ache coursed through you; a dull, evil reminder of your denied orgasms. 

"M-mmhm..wanna be so good f'you, Daddy.” Your head spun, the static sobs that ripped though your sore throat bounced through the room, echoing through Toji's ribcage and ricocheting around his heart.

He couldn't help the twisted smile that cracked across his face, his precious little girl, how obsessed you were with his cock, how gluttonous you were to have him nestled within your gummy walls. 

Truth be told, he was ravenous for your warmth. He loved how quickly he could wind you up and how easy it was to make you snap. He adored the way you shook when he'd bottomed out against you, the precious sounds that you made only for him.

His chest tightened at the gnawing thought of not having you anymore. He couldn't let you know that...couldn't show you how badly he needed you, how much he loved you and your perfect pussy. He gritted his teeth at his insecurities; his nagging fear of losing you, how he dreaded letting you go. How desperate he was to make this last forever. 

He prodded himself in and out... in and out... iiin and ooout, only giving you about an inch each time before he removed himself again, his brows furrowed with a hungered expression, wanting to savor the way you sucked him in with greed. Your hole clenched down on him in a pitiful attempt to keep him inside, only for him to leave you empty once more. "P-plea..se, Daddy," your voice trembled, "Need you so so bad," your head thrashed around as you babbled, your thighs shaking as Toji tormented your gushing cunt. He smirked down at your twitching frame, getting off on how needy you were, how your back arched so deeply in hopes that he'd push all the way in. 

"Already cock drunk and I've barely fucked you, hmm?" His aching cock teased at your spasming entrance some more, his fingers pushing and pulling the plug in and out of your ass. Your soft whines circled around his head, his chin tucked into his clavicle as he watched your holes stretch at the intrusions. “My dirty fuckin’ girl…you love when I tease you, don’t ya?”

“I–” your words caught in your throat as he shoved all the way, the head of his cock caressing the deepest parts of you with ease, the delicious girth of his member stretching you out so fucking perfectly. Your cheek pressed firm against the mattress, hands pulling at the sheets, your fists balled up tight around the fabric as overstimulating pleasure raked through you. Relishing in sinful bliss as Daddy finally gave you what you so pitifully longed for, the rough jerk of his hips smacking into the fat of your ass.

Toji was unraveling. His darkened gaze raked up and down your figure, reveling in the way your flesh rippled at the strength of his unrelenting strokes. He leaned over, one hand pressed into your lower back, the other grabbing hold of your bunched up skirt, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

“S-so–ungh–so deep, Daddy,” you mewled. Toji smirked, reaching around to press a firm palm against your tummy, growling as he felt himself deep in your gushy walls. “Mmm, I know, princess, but you’re taking me so well.” His brutal pace was splitting you in half. It felt unreal, impossible even, that nirvana had begun to manifest within your reality in the form of Toji’s thick cock absolutely destroying you, your gushing cunt greedily sucking him in, yearning to savor your little slice of paradise. 

“God, this pussy was made for me, huh? So fuckin’ perfect.” His filthy words sent undulations of ecstasy through you, making you constrict around him, the coils in your stomach forming once again.

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t ya,” he huffed out, his fingers trailing lower to rub your clit. You clenched down on him, a tell-tale sign of affirmation. His thick tip brushed against your cervix, making you cry out, relishing in bliss on the steps toward heaven’s gates.

“Ahhh! Y-yes!…oh, Daddy, yes!” You were a blubbering mess, the tightening sensation in your stomach increasing tenfold at his added stimulation.

Toji’s mind was in shambles as he battled his own filthy conscience, torn between denying your pleasure once more or redirecting his attention toward his new goal: make you fall apart on him over and over again. He struggled to weigh his options as your cock-drunk cries echoed through the room, the delicious sound of skin slapping against skin clouding his mind.

“Grippin’ me s’tight, princess. Fuuuck– wanna cum, baby girl?” His jaw locked as his fingers dug into your soft skin. “Mhm…,” your voice was airy as you nodded vigorously, trying your hardest to form coherent sentences as his heavy balls slapped against you, “...pleasepleaseplease, Daddy–ugnhh–wanna cum s’bad…wan’ cum f’you,” you rambled, drunk off the way he was splitting you in half. The squelching sounds of your greedy little cunt coupled with your staggered whimpers and filthy begging finalized his desicion; Fuck breaking you in, Daddy was going to break you.

“That’s it…c’mon, baby,” his mean, persistent thrusts made your head spin, his fingers rubbing quick circles against your throbbing clit. “Cum. Now. Make a mess on Daddy,” he growled. Your eyes screwed shut, his permission ringing through your ears as you felt the tension in your stomach finally snap. Your face contorted as you squirted, painting your sweet juices onto his strong thighs. An animalistic growl broke through Toji’s chest as he worked you through your blinding orgasm, spurred on by the warm spray beading down his lower half and onto the mattress below you.

He pumped into you a few more times before pulling out. You nearly sobbed at the emptiness. As overstimulating as Daddy’s cock was, you couldn’t help but revel in the way he stuffed you. Your head spun while he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back, his strong hands pressing against your thighs. “Hold your legs there f’me, pretty girl,” he rasped. You diligently obeyed, your shaking hands anchoring into the pits of your knee, pulling your legs deeper into your sides as he rubbed himself against your drenched folds, the firm pressure of his shaft against your clit sending chills through your exhausted body.

You stared at him with a low-lidded expression.Your mouth fell agape while he smacked his member against your clit. A trail of spit dribbled from the corner of your mouth as he sunk back into you, your eyes shooting open as you cried out for him. He returned to his harsh pace immediately, giving you no time to recover from your orgasm. His hands replaced yours against the back of your legs. You clawed down his taut abdomen as he used his new found leverage to bury himself deeper inside you with every rough bump of his hips. 

“D-daddy–ahhh!– ‘s too much,” you cried out, your palms pressing into his torso in hopes he’d slow down a bit.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he growled, “Be good…play with your pussy f’me,” his cock colliding with the furthest wall of your gushing cunt. His palm pressed against your tummy, nasty groans falling from his lips as the added pressure made you even tighter. “You jus’ feel too good, princess.” His breathing staggered as he reveled in your warmth.

“So deep…oh, fuuuck! Daddy you’re so f-fucking deep,” you babbled, your words drawn out as electricity shot to your core, your fingers rubbing your sensitive clit. Your walls fluttered, the churning in your stomach returning with urgency. You clenched down around him, guiding the head of his cock to drive straight into your sweet spot. 

“Fuckin’ milkin’ me…gonna come again, baby girl?” You nodded profusely, ears ringing as your eyes rolled back. Your brain was numb—he was all you could feel, the only thing that made sense; Daddy. You were delirious, dickmatised, even. Oh how badly you wanted to marinate in this bliss, to make it last forever.

“Gimme another one…c’mon,” Toji’s foundation wavered as he stared down at you, pure, unadulterated lust swirling around his irises. He was about to break, utterly consumed by all things you. The sweet sounds you made for him, how perfectly your cunt molded around him, the way your sloppy walls hugged him so tight as you came around him once more. You were made for him and vice versa. 

“That’s it baby–Good…Fucking…Girl.” You cried out as his thrusts emphasized his praise, burying himself impossibly deep, his head kissing your womb. 

Every neuron in your body fired off at once as his strokes persisted. You were beyond saving, your entire existence orbiting around the man that was actively breaking you in half. He was the driving force in your life, the sole reason your atoms continued to vibrate and your heart pumped crimson through you. He was everything. 

Toji watched as you fell apart, expelling all the air from his lungs as he released a deep, guttural moan. The sight of your trembling body and the feeling of your quivering cunt around him made his heart beat with such fervor it practically slammed into his ribs. But it wasn’t enough, not right now. Not in the state of vulnerability, of fear, that he found himself in. He wasn’t ready for this to end. And it wasn’t going to, not if he could help it. 

He grinned down at you, his words bouncing around your skull as you attempted to wrap your head around his request: “Again.”

You wanted to give up, knowing damn well it would break you if you came any more. But when Daddy demanded another orgasm from his sweet little girl, you delivered. You’d be foolish not to.

“One more…just give me one more,” he coaxed, his fingers replacing yours, thrumming viciously at your clit. “C’mon, baby girl…Make me proud,” his head cocked to the side as he watched your pleading eyes shut once more, succumbing to the waves you had no choice but to ride.

Another soul-crushing orgasm raked its way through you. Every sense in your body dulled and heightened simultaneously. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out in delight, your body drowning in a lethal dose of euphoria. 

After a few more pumps, he leaned down to press his chest against yours. Your shaking legs locked behind his back as he bottomed out, tugging your hips up as he shot a thick load deep inside you. You were breathless, light-headed, stuck in a state of ecstasy. Even with an empty head, you knew one thing for certain– triumph. The sounds he was making told you everything you needed to know. You were so good for Daddy. Your nails dragged across his back while you wrapped him up in your arms, desperate to feel as much of him as you could. 

Toji sat back up, pulling out of you as he crouched down at your core, spreading your puffy lips with his thumbs, beaming with pride as he watched his cum dribble out. You were his. “Did so good for me, princess.” He placed a gentle kiss on your clit as he realigned his face with yours, “Made me so proud.”

You offered only a small smile in response, reeling in enlightenment. You laid still while he cleaned you up, though you didn’t really have a choice. Your legs were numb and your back ached with a dull, constant reminder of who you truly belonged to. No one could fill the space that Toji held in your life. You weren’t going anywhere.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your tired bodies laid intertwined, the sound of synchronized breaths drifted through the room as the two of you relished in post-coital bliss. The love that pulsed from his chest into yours solidified your decision. There was nowhere else you wanted to be. 

“Daddy?” you hummed while he rubbed deep circles into your lower back.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I…I think I’m gonna take another gap year.” You could hear a pin drop in the deafening silence that fell between the two of you as your words hung in the still air. Your heart thrummed as you waited for his response, anxiety running rampant in your body in hopes that he wouldn’t be angry with you. But you needed him. You knew where you belonged.

Your admission rang through Toji’s ears. His breath quickened every so slightly as his calloused hands dragged up and down your body, his lips pressing into the top of your head. It took every fiber of his being to keep his composure, to not jump from his skin at his victory. He did it. 

“If that’s what you want, princess. I support you.” His voice was steady, but his nonchalance was insincere. He was elated. He got to keep his little girl around, and he had no intention of letting go. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ author notes: the need i have for this man is insatiable... this was my first fic for toji so i had to do it up

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