#wedding bands are hot and you can’t change my mind

[be4chywritez]

home | nico hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader

request: Hi can I request nico and reader (married) adopting or fostering a kid together, maybe the kid is like 7 or something around the age of an older kid?

masterlist!

The soft hum of the dishwasher filled the kitchen as you and Nico finished dinner. The warm, cozy atmosphere of your home was a stark contrast to the rainy evening outside. As you leaned back on the couch, your eyes drifted to Nico.

He’s nuzzled into your tummy, and you run your hand through his hair. He meets your eyes, giving you his dazzling smile. He mutters into your stomach, and you giggle at the vibrations.

“What was that, Neeks?” you ask.

He looks back at you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile, as he reaches up towards you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

As he settles back down, his voice is soft and dreamy. “You know, I was thinking… it would be nice to hear little feet running around here. Maybe a baby someday?”

You freeze, your hand stilling in his hair. The warmth of the moment is replaced by a sudden chill. You gently push him away and scoot slightly further away from him.

Nico sits up, concern etched across his face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Sorry,” you mutter from the other side of the couch, avoiding his gaze. “It’s just… getting a bit hot over here.”

He studies you, knowing you well enough to sense something deeper. “Is it really just the heat?” he asks, his voice is shaky, you know you hurt him.

You face away, your fingers gently messing with your wedding band, You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “Why do you always bring up having a baby? Can’t we just… can’t we just be enough as we are?”

Nico looks taken aback, but he keeps his voice gentle. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought…”

“You just thought what?” you interrupt, your tone sharper than intended. “That I’d suddenly change my mind about something I’ve felt strongly about for years?”

He takes a step back, giving you space. “I just want to understand, that’s all. I love you, and I want to know what’s going on in your heart.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn to meet his gaze, tears threatening to spill. “I know we’ve talked about having kids before, and I’ve always been hesitant. It’s not because I don’t want a family with you. I do, more than anything. I just feel more comfortable adopting or fostering.

Nico’s hand finds yours, offering silent support.

You swallow hard, gathering your thoughts. “When I was younger, I saw a close family friend go through a really tough pregnancy. She faced so many complications, and it’s just stuck with me. It made me realize that having a child isn’t the only way to build a family. I want to give a child who’s already here a chance at a better life.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you deserve.” you say softly. You were used to men walking out on you after talking about kids, you were waiting for him to do the same, sure you were married but what good would you be if you can’t have kids?

Nico blinks taking all of what you’re saying, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling this way. I love you, and I want us to be on the same page about our future.”

Tears spill over as you smile weakly at him. “I’m so grateful that you feel the same way.”

Nico leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

You both sit there in the quiet of your home, the rain still gently falling outside, warmly conversing.

-

If there was something Nico prided himself for is that he is a man of his word.

So for the following weeks were a whirlwind of meetings, paperwork, and home visits. You and Nico spent countless hours researching, attending workshops, and preparing your home for a new arrival. The anticipation was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, surrounded by brochures and informational packets. “I didn’t realize how much goes into this,” Nico said, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s worth it,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’re going to give someone chance at a better life.

Nico kissed the top of your head. “I know. I just want everything to be perfect.”

“And it will be, because they’re going to have the best foster dad ever,” you murmured, taking his face in your hands and gently placing chaste kisses on his lips. He smiled, pulling you close, causing you to yelp and place a hand on his chest to stabilize yourself.

“They’re gonna have a great mom too.” he says squeezing you tightly.

Later that night, your sleep was interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Groggily checking the time, your eyes widened at the bold 5:00 on the clock. You answered and sat up, nudging Nico awake with a soft slap on the chest. He stirred, sitting up beside you as you put the phone on speaker.

The case worker confirmed they had reached the Hischiers. She explained that they were rehoming a child and asked if you were willing to take them in. Glancing at Nico, who nodded in affirmation, he slid out of bed and walked into the closet to get dressed.

The social worker informed you they would arrive in about an hour. When she hung up, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

You rubbed your face tiredly, letting Nico help you up as you wandered into the closet, shimmying into a pair of pants and a nice shirt. Both of you brushed your teeth together, sharing small smiles in the bathroom mirror.

After fixing up the bedroom that would now be the foster child’s, you made breakfast, anxiously waiting for the doorbell to ring. When it finally did, both of you exchanged a look of excitement and nervousness.

Nico opened the door, and there stood the social worker with, a tall lanky boy with wide eyes and a hesitant smile.

“This is Jesse,” the social worker said kindly. “He’s been through a lot, but I know he’ll be in good hands with you.”

You offer him a warm smile. “Hi, Jesse. I’m Y/N, and this is Nico. We’re so glad you’re here.”

Jesse glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. After a moment, he tentatively took your hand. “Hey,” he mumbled softly.

Nico stood beside you, his voice gentle. “Hey, Jesse. We’ve been waiting for you. Would you like to come in?”

Jesse nodded shyly, and together, you all stepped inside. The social worker handed Nico the trash bag, explaining that’s where all of Jesse’s clothing was.

As the case worker gave you contact information before leaving, you noticed Jesse glancing at the photos in the hallway. There were a few of Nico with his team, one of you and Nico after a game, and a handful of wedding pictures.

You watched him study the pictures, running his finger along the frame of you and Nico. “That was when Nico and I had just gotten engaged,” you said with a smile, leaning against the wall. Jesse startled but relaxed when he saw you.

“Do you wanna see your room?” you asked nervously. He nodded, and you led him to the room. He sat on his bed. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

You gave him a small smile. “Are you hungry?” you asked. He nodded again.

You led him to the kitchen where Nico had set the table with plates and glasses. The three of you sat down together, and you served pancakes and fruit. Jesse hesitated at first but soon started eating with a cautious smile.

As you ate, Nico engaged Jesse in small talk about school and sports. Jesse gradually began to relax, sharing a few shy smiles and nods in response.

After breakfast, you suggested showing Jesse around the neighborhood. He seemed hesitant at first, but with Nico’s encouragement, he agreed. The three of you walked down the street, pointing out the local park and the nearby ice cream shop.

Back at home, Jesse seemed more at ease. He explored the backyard while you and Nico cleaned up from breakfast. Later in the afternoon, you gathered in the living room, playing a board game together. Jesse’s smile grew more genuine as he started to open up, asking questions and sharing a few stories of his own.

As the day came to a close, you showed Jesse around his new room. He looked up at you and Nico with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.

“Goodnight, Jesse,” you said softly, handing him an extra pillow.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He called out to you and Nico, you both turn around, “you guys are gonna be here when I wake up right?” he asks his eyes shifting around the room.

You smile somberly, “Yeah bud, don’t worry.” you say taking Nico’s hand. He switches off the light, and you both lingered in the hallway for a moment, watching over him.

Nico sits at the foot of the bed, you step out of the shower steam emitting from the bathroom, you change into some pj’s you sit behind Nico massaging his tense shoulders. “how do you feel honey.” you ask he takes you hand, “I’m happy your happy,” he says kissing your hand.

“You’re gonna be really good with him.” he whispers. you smile, “so are you.” both of you sit there in solace.

The first few weeks were an adjustment period for all of you. Jesse’s had moments of doubt and fear, but you and Nico were always there to comfort him. One night, you found him crying in his room, clutching a pillow to his chest.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked gently, sitting down beside him.

“I miss my old home,” Jesse’s whispered. “I’m scared.”

Nico joined you, wrapping an arm around Jesse’s. “It’s okay to feel that way. We’re here for you, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Jesse’s sniffled and leaned into Nico’s embrace. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you and Nico said in unison, holding him close.

-

As time went on, Jesse began to open up more. You took him to his first Devils game, where he proudly wore a jersey with Nico’s name on it. Seeing the joy on his face as he watched Nico play was a moment you’d never forget.

Another milestone was his first day at a new school. You and Nico sat with him in the parking lot of the middle school, offering words of encouragement. “You’re going to do great,” you said with a shoulder squeeze.

Jesse smiled, a mix of nerves and excitement in his eyes. “Thanks, Mom and Dad.” he says getting out of the car. You look at Nico who’s eye’s twinkled with excitement, “Be carful.” you shout out he gives you a thumbs up.

You look up at Nico, who’s smiling ear to ear, “He called us mom and dad.” he says backing out of the parking lot, you smile looking out the window, “yeah.”

One afternoon, as you helped Jesse with his homework at the kitchen table, he suddenly paused, staring pensively at his notebook. You noticed his hesitation and gently asked, “Something on your mind, Jesse?”

He bit his lip, a habit he often showed when unsure how to express himself. “Do… do you think I’ll ever see my old friends again?”

You set aside the pencil and leaned closer to him. “It’s okay to miss your old friends, Jesse. We can try to find a way for you to stay in touch with them if you’d like.”

Jesse nodded slowly, seeming reassured by your response. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Nico, who had been listening quietly from the doorway, came over and ruffled Jesse’s hair affectionately. “You’ll make new friends too, Jesse. I promise.”

Jesse began to thrive. He joined a local soccer club, him and Nico would practice in the backyard together, and soon, you found yourself cheering alongside other parents at his games. Watching Jesse sprint across the field you and Nico both smiling proudly as you snapped photos of him in action.

Later that night, after the tournament, you, Nico, and Jesse went through the pictures on your laptop. You smiled at one of him celebrating a goal.

“Oh, I like that one,” you said, glancing at Nico and Jesse, who were both leaning in and smiling at the photo.

The next day, you printed it out and framed it, placing it in the hallway next to your and Nico’s engagement picture.

One evening after dinner, as you all gathered in the living room, Jesse brought out a worn photo album he had kept hidden in his room. “Can I show you something?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tracing the edges of the album.

You and Nico exchanged a glance, silently encouraging him to share. Jesse opened the album, revealing snapshots of his life before coming to live with you—birthday parties, outings to the park, and school events. There were pictures of his old friends, their smiles frozen in time.

“I miss them sometimes,” Jesse admitted softly, his gaze fixed on the photos. “But I’m glad I’m here with you and Nico.”

You reached over and squeezed his shoulder gently. “We’re glad you’re here too, Jesse. And we’re here for you, no matter what.”

Nico leaned forward, pointing at a photo of Jesse scoring a goal in a school soccer game he looks around eight years old in the photo. “Look at that grin, Jesse. You brought that with you. And you’ve brought so much joy to us too.”

As Jesse closed the album and set it aside, a sense of peace settled over the room. You realized then how far he had come—from a hesitant arrival to a beloved member of your family

The next day, while cleaning up after breakfast, Jesse approached you with a small, determined expression on his face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Jesse,” you replied, drying your hands on a towel.

He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Do you think… maybe one day, we could be a forever family?”

Your heart swelled with emotion, taking his hands in yours. “Jesse, we would be honored to be your forever family. Nico and I love you so much.”

Jesse’s face broke into a radiant smile, and he threw his arms around you, hugging you tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice filled with happiness and relief.

Nico, who had been watching from the doorway, joined the embrace, wrapping his arms around both of you. “Welcome to the family, Jesse,” he said warmly.

From that moment on, the journey towards adoption took on a new meaning—a journey filled with hope, love, and the promise of a future together as a forever family.

As the weeks passed, you and Nico began the process of formalizing your commitment to Jesse through adoption. The paperwork and interviews were daunting at times, but with each step, your bond with Jesse grew stronger.

Finally, the day of the adoption hearing arrived. Jesse, dressed in his best clothes, sat nervously between you and Nico in the courtroom. The judge’s kind words and the final declaration that Jesse was officially your son brought tears to your eyes.

Afterwards, surrounded by friends and family who had become your support system, you celebrated at home. Jesse held his adoption certificate proudly, a symbol of the love and security he had found with you and Nico.

Later that evening, he looked up at you with a mixture of gratitude and joy. “I’m really your son now, right?”

You smiled, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. “Absolutely, Jesse. You’ve been our son from the moment you walked through our door.”

With a contented sigh, Jesse settled into bed, clutching a pillow close. “I love you, Mom and Dad,” he whispered sleepily.

“We love you too, Jesse,” Nico replied both of you stood outside his door, Nico kisses your forehead, “We did it honey.” he says embracing you.

[theragethatisdesire]

"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

-

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release. 

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (0.5/10)

AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @kmomof4, @undercaffinatednightmare, @jrob64, @zaharadessert, @elfiola, @anmylica, @tiganasummertree, @stahlop, @xarandomdreamx, @teamhook

Author Notes: Some aspects of this are based on the Stay a Spell series by Juliette Cross. If you haven’t read them, the books are very fun paranormal romance novels that you can devour in a week and apparently keep thinking about them for a few years until you do a rewrite and make it your CSSNS fic. (For clarity: The storyline is new, but the relationship arc is loosely Ruben and Jules.) I hope everyone has had an incredible Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. It has been such a treat reading everyone's amazing stories and seeing all the lovely art.

I could not have written this without the cheering and support of @kmomof4 and many other ladies on the CSMM Discord. They continue to be the most encouraging group. I am always excited to share my silly words and little sketches with them.

A massive thank you to @ultraluckycatnd for her time, patience, and feedback. Beta-ing is always hard work. Beta-ing for a self-conscious tinkerer is all the more challenging. Thank you!

A tremendous thank you to @cocohook38 for the beautiful artwork. I have always adored your work and having something drawn by you that was ‘inspired’ by my silly words is a bit of a dream come true. (I squealed with utter delight upon seeing your initial sketches the first time. AMAZING!!) Thank you! <3 <3 <3

As always, a thank you is owed to my spouse for being "volunteered" to be the alpha-reader and writing partner for this fic and for bringing so many cups of hot tea and snack plates at odd hours.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fifteen Years Ago…

Emma’s breath caught at the beauty of the vampire before her; the waves of his dark hair begged her to run her hands through it, his sharp jaw, framed by auburn stubble, was softened by a crooked smile that was melting her resolve. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the way just the sight of him affected her. It wouldn’t be a problem much longer.

They’d only been together for a few weeks, but Emma felt lost in the depth of the connection that she shared with Killian. He seemed to read her moods and her thoughts as naturally as breathing and she felt him as if he were an extension of her own heart and mind.

As she approached where he worked, she tucked those thoughts away.

When he looked up at her and cocked his head, eyebrow raised, she savoured the adoration and openness that she saw in his eyes. She wasn’t ready for him to stop looking at her as if she were the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him. Just rip off the band-aid, Emma.

His expression changed to one of concern as he took in her erratic heartbeat and the sour scent of stress radiating from her. “Swan?”

The gentleness of his voice and the worry in his tone made her eyes prickle. She held on tightly to the tears; she would not cry. Not yet.

“Killian, I can’t… we can’t…” Her voice was stronger than she expected, but the words tore at the depths of her soul and shattered her heart. She took a breath and stored her heart away - the burning and ripping sensation too much to bear - before she continued. “We’re done.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Killian asked. The words were mild and light as if he were asking after their supper plans, but his eyes were narrowed- gauging the situation and seeking out alternate avenues.

Emma let out a humourless laugh. “It won’t change anything. We can’t be together.”

He stared at her for a long moment, before he replied. When he did speak, his voice was broken with emotion, “One day, Emma, you will have to open your heart for someone. If ever you are done playing the coward, I hope that you will find whatever it is that I couldn’t give you. And, I truly hope that you never feel even a quarter of the pain that I feel now.”

A storm of emotions flashed in his eyes, but he quickly hid it away beneath the calm and collected demeanour he had honed over the centuries of his long life. He kissed her gently on the forehead before he vanished into the evening.

Once he was too far for her to sense, her knees buckled and the ground rushed to catch her. His warm embrace was replaced by the damp grass soaking through her jeans. As her tears fell heavily down her face, she balled up against the sobs slamming through her. She was in too many pieces scattered about too effectively to ever be whole again.

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Thirty Three

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

As always, thank you so much for your love for this fic <3 It means the absolute world.

This chapter is a moment I've been building up to for a while, so I really hope you all enjoy it - and I would love to know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron smiles as his phone lights up, Emily’s name appearing on the screen along with the text message she had just sent him.

Are you going to the grocery store on the way home from Haley’s?

He types out his response as he climbs out of his car, walking towards the jewellery store he had parked outside. 

I wasn’t planning on it, but I can if you want.

He receives two responses quickly as if she’d never put her phone down as she waited for his reply.

It’s okay. 

It’s just so hot and ice cream would help.

Aaron shakes his head and types out his reply as he walks into the store, confirming that he’d stop off for her on his way home from picking up Jack. Her response is once again quick, and he can’t help but smile before he puts his phone in his pocket as he catches the attention of the sales assistant behind the counter. 

I love you. I’ll even eat whatever fruit you sneak into it without complaint. 

“My name is Camilla, how can I help you today?” 

Aaron smiles politely at her enthusiasm, “I need to buy a necklace. Just a plain chain. Platinum.” 

She nods and starts to dig out the chains that match his description, and he takes the time to look around, his eyes falling on the matching wedding bands in the display cabinet in front of him. It takes him back to his conversation with Emily a week ago, the forlorn look on her face as she discussed their future wedding, the exact opposite of how he wanted her to feel when she thought of something that was supposed to be special. 

It was their anniversary this weekend. Two years since she’d driven him home from Ohio when he’d almost damaged his hearing beyond repair. It was strange to think how much had changed in that time. That he’d moved twice. That he and Emily were engaged, that they were on the countdown to adding to their family, although he knew Emily would argue that 10 weeks to go still wasn’t close enough for her. 

He smiles and realises there is something he can do for her. That there is one thing he can make easier.

“Can I see these too?” He asks, and Camilla nods, pulling them out of the cabinet and placing them on top for him to get a better look at them. 

“Those are matching platinum bands, available in any size you might need. You’re getting married I take it?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, his eyes fixed on the rings, “Soon.” He continues to stare at them, a plan fully formulating in his mind. He smiles and looks up at Camilla before he can decide it’s a bad idea, “I’ll take them.” 

“What ring size is your fiancee?”  she asks, and he hesitates causing the sale assistant to raise her eyebrow, “You don’t know?” 

“I know what size she usually is, but she's 30 weeks pregnant so her ring size has gone up,” he admits, his cheeks burning with embarrassment he doesn’t quite understand, “That’s what the chain is for, she can’t wear her engagement ring anymore.”

He knew he could just buy her a ring in her usual size, but he wants to get her something that fits now. Something that would match what would be his ring, showing the world that they belonged to each other. 

Camila smiles at him, seemingly finding him endearing now she had the full story,  and she nods, “I’d recommend going up two sizes, especially since she still has some time to go. Once she’s had the baby and everything settles down you can bring it back in to resize.” 

Aaron smiles at the thought of it, of him bringing the ring back to resize it for his wife, as she waited at home for him with their new son or daughter, “Thank you.”

He gets his phone out of his pocket and sends a text to Haley explaining he’d be a little late picking up Jack. 

He had some paperwork to do. 

___

Aaron blows out a steady breath before he knocks on the front door of the home he’d once lived in. It only takes a few seconds for Haley to answer, a smile on her face as she pulls the door open.

“Aaron, hi,” she says, stepping back to let him in, “Jack is upstairs finishing his game, he said he’d be a few minutes.”

They exchange a smile over their son’s antics, and Aaron nods, “I actually needed to talk to you if that’s ok?”

Her smile falters slightly but she nods again, nodding towards the living room, “Is this anything to do with why you’re late?” 

He sits down in the armchair and sighs, his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, waiting for her to sit down on the couch. He places his hand briefly over where the inside pocket lay in his suit jacket, the piece of paper he’d placed there less than an hour ago still safely tucked inside. He looks at his ex-wife and watches as she raises her eyebrows at him expectantly. He knows from past experience that this could go badly, that Haley hadn’t always reacted to changes in his relationship with Emily well at first, but he hopes that, for once, he could ensure no one's feelings were hurt. 

“Emily and I are getting married.” 

Haley chuckles, the noise short and sharp, and she sits back on the couch, “I do know that Aaron, you’ve been engaged almost a year.” 

He smiles tightly before clearing his throat, “I mean, we’re going to get married this weekend. Tomorrow actually. If she agrees.” 

The thought of the rings he’d bought earlier and the marriage license in his pocket briefly eases any tension in his body. This was the right thing for them, he was sure of it, and he hoped Emily agreed when he got home. 

Haley’s smile slips from her face and he watches as her posture tightens, her back going straight as she looks at him. “Oh,” she says, swallowing thickly before she chuckles humourlessly, “I’d ask if it was a shotgun wedding but I think that ship has sailed.” 

He feels fierce protectiveness flood his system, his jaw tight as he looks at her, their eyes meeting from across the room, “Haley.”

“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head at herself, “That was…a bad attempt at a joke that wasn’t funny,” she blows out a breath and swallows down emotions that always threatened to choke her in moments like this, “Why?”

It was a question he’d been expecting, so he’d prepared his answer on the way over. It wasn’t any of Haley’s business to know what Emily was going through with her mother, and that even if he did tell her she wouldn’t be able to understand the complicated nature of the mother-daughter relationship he wasn’t even sure he knew all the nuances of. He and Emily had no secrets, but he was sure there were things about his soon-to-be mother-in-law that he’d be learning for years to come. 

“With everything that has been happening lately, with the move and the baby, the wedding has taken a bit of a backseat,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, “And things are only going to get busier once the baby arrives.”

They share a knowing smile. Memories of when Jack was a newborn and life got more hectic and exhausting than either of them had anticipated. It’s a flash of a life neither of them lived anymore, but one he was about to restart with someone else. 

“That’s true enough,” Haley says, smiling at him, “But what I meant was, why are you telling me?” 

“Oh,” he replies, clearing his throat, “I’d like Jack to be there. And I didn’t want you to find out second-hand. That wouldn’t be fair on you.” 

 Haley nods and smiles, a sense of sadness she can’t explain after all this time making it shake. 

“I appreciate that,” she replies, “Do you want me to come to get Jack tomorrow afterwards?” She asks, her smile deepening when he looks confused, the same expression on his face that he shared with their son, “Emily is pregnant with your kid, Aaron. As the last person who was, let me tell you - she deserves to be spoiled. Take her somewhere nice afterwards, I’ll pick up Jack and you can make up your time during the week.” 

He stares at her for a moment, the conversation he’d had with Emily about how Jack wanted more time with them echoing in his mind. He knows now isn’t the time, that her, mostly positive, reaction to the news he’d dropped on her didn’t need to be potentially soured. It was something they’d talk about soon, more time with his son something he desperately wanted. 

“That…sounds great, thank you, Haley.” 

She smiles at him, and they hear Jack moving around upstairs, their conversation brought to an end. He runs down the stairs, taking them two at a time despite both of his parent’s warnings to be careful.

“Daddy!” 

Aaron stands just in time to catch Jack in his arms, the little boy wrapping his arms tightly around his neck, “Hey buddy, are you excited for the weekend?” 

He nods, “Emily said we can go to the park.” 

Aaron chuckles adjusting his hold on his son, “We’ll have to see how she feels about that, buddy.” 

Not only had the plans for the weekend changed a lot in the last few hours, he knew any extended period of time walking around the park was something Emily was unlikely to want to do anymore. He knew what she was like though, that if Jack wanted to do it she’d push through the heat and the discomfort that came with being 30 weeks pregnant. 

“Nugget is the size of a cabbage this week.” 

Aaron frowns, unsure where Jack would have learnt that information, and Haley chuckles awkwardly, drawing his attention to her. 

“I…I dug out all the books from when I was pregnant with him,” she says, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “He kept asking questions and I thought I might as well give him some of the answers,” she says, shrugging one of her shoulders, “He is very excited to be a big brother.” 

He doesn’t miss how her voice shakes a little or the way sorrow flashes in her eyes. Everything they were, and what they could have been, hanging between them in the air. Thick in the home they once shared, the place they bought thinking would be their forever. And now he’d found that with someone else, and he just hoped one day soon she would too. 

She covers her reaction quickly and smiles widely at Jack, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Have fun with Daddy and Emily, ok honey?” 

He nods enthusiastically, and as they walk towards the front door he wriggles out of Aaron’s embrace as Haley opens it, running towards the car as he shouts goodbye to his mother over his shoulder. Aaron stands on the porch next to his ex-wife, both of them watching as Jack climbs into the car once Aaron has unlocked it with his key fob. 

“Once you’ve got everything planned out tomorrow let me know when you need me to come get him,” Haley says, turning to look at Aaron.

“Of course,” he says, wishing there was something he could do to make her feel better, that he could go back in time and take away the hurt he had caused without losing what he now had, a life without Emily and the family they were building not something he was interested in, “Thank you for-”

He’s cut off as Haley pulls him into a hug that he returns automatically. The once familiar feeling of her tucked against him foreign as she squeezes him momentarily before she pulls back to look at him, unshed tears shining in her eyes. 

“Congratulations Aaron,” she says stepping back from him, putting space back between them, “You and Emily are good for each other,” she smiles, “I don’t know if I ever said that.” 

He returns her smile, “Thank you, Haley,” he says, the relief he doesn’t expect unfurling in his chest, “That means a lot.” 

She smiles, “You should get going, she’ll wonder where you are.” 

He nods, smiling at her once more before he walks down the steps leading from the porch to the driveway. He opens the rear door and checks on Jack’s straps on his booster seat.

“We’re going home to Emily now, Daddy?” 

Aaron nods, content that the booster seat is secure, “Yes, but first we are going to the store to get her some ice cream, and on the way you and I are going to have a big boy talk.”

___

Emily yawns as she settles deeper into the couch, scratching Sergio’s head as he curls up on her lap, his head laying on her bump. She chuckles as he doesn’t react physically to the movement she feels inside her belly, his purring only getting louder. 

“I know the second Nugget is here you’re going to abandon me,” she says to the cat, scratching his head in between his ears, “But I’ll take all the affection I can get in the next 10 weeks.” 

“He loves you,” Aaron says as he walks into the living room before joining her on the couch, and she smiles wryly at him, raising her eyebrow at him. 

“Sergio loves the Hotchners,” she says, “I just happen to have the youngest one living inside of me right now.” She quips, and he chuckles and presses a kiss to her temple as he wraps his arm around her, “So, are you going to tell me what you and Jack were all secretive about this evening?” 

She’d noticed it instantly. A mischievous look on the little boy's face as they ate dinner, and a similar look on Aaron’s face that she knew meant he was hiding something. They’d tried to play it off all evening and she’d accepted it, knowing that despite her curiosity she could wait until Jack was in bed, and now he was she was desperate to know what was going on. 

She never had enjoyed the feeling of not being in the know. 

Aaron tenses next to her, nervous energy spreading through his veins as he presses another kiss to her temple before he pulls away. “Close your eyes.”

She frowns at him, a look on her face he’d call adorable if he didn’t know she’d kill him for it, very pregnant or not, “What? Why?” 

Aaron hides a smirk and leans forward to kiss her cheek, the movement disturbing Serigo who meows as he jumps off her lap, sauntering off towards the kitchen. 

“Just humour me.” 

She sighs and makes a show of doing as he’s asked, her arms crossed over the top of her bump, “Ok, my eyes are closed.”

He pulls the ring box that holds the matching wedding bands out of his pocket and opens it, making sure it’s facing her so she can see the inside, and he blows out one final breath.

“You can open them.” He says, and he does as she’s told and looks at him, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks at the box he’s presenting her with. She falters, unable to respond as she looks up at him, her eyes meeting his. “Emily, will you marry me?”

She chuckles, the sound wet as it catches on what she refuses to call a sob in her chest, her emotions getting the better of her like they always did these days. 

“I don’t know if you remember this, honey, but I already said yes. We’ve been engaged a year,” she replies, using humour to cover the shake to her voice. It makes him smile, the response so similar to the one Haley had given him earlier that it warms him from the inside out.

“I know that,” he says, reaching for her hand and grasping it, running his thumb over her bare ring finger, “I mean, will you marry me now? Tomorrow.” 

She stares at him open-mouthed, genuinely lost for words for the first time since they’d met and she laughs again, “What?” 

“I went to the store to buy a chain for your ring, and I saw the wedding bands,” he explains, placing the ring box down on the coffee table in front of them, “And I realised we should just get married. I don’t need a big wedding, and it would just be us and Jack. No complications because of your mother or anybody else,” he says, carrying on as she continues to look at him, “Because I keep thinking about what you said, how you just want to be my wife, and I really just want to be your husband.” 

She stares at him, and has to remind herself to breathe, wiping a stray tear from her cheek as she finally regains the ability to speak, “That’s….” she huffs out a laugh, “What about the team? Or Haley?” 

He falls even more in love with her in that moment. Her concern for other people above her own needs was one of the many reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place, even when she did it to her own detriment. 

“The team would get over it,” he says, “And…I already spoke to Haley.” 

If she thought he was done surprising her this evening she was wrong, her eyebrows raising, “You did?”

“Yes. I didn’t think it would be right to do with Jack there and tell her afterwards. She was fine with it,” he says, leaving out the brief snippy comment he’d had from his ex-wife, “She even told me she’d come get Jack afterwards so I can whisk you away somewhere for the night,” he raises his eyebrow, “Something about how being pregnant with my kid isn’t easy and you deserve to be spoiled.”

Emily laughs at that, wiping more tears from her cheeks as she nods, “Well, she’s right about that.” They fall into silence for a moment as she thinks about what he’s said, about how it’s the answer to the question she’d been asking herself for weeks, “We could just…get married tomorrow?” 

He nods, “I have the marriage license and everything,” he says, and they fall into silence again, which unnerves him, “Look, sweetheart if I’ve read this wrong-”

“Let’s do it,” she replies, cutting over him, her smile wide. 

“Really?” He asks, his eyes wide as she nods. And she leans in to kiss him fiercely, her hand still on his cheek as she pulls away. 

“Really. I’ll need to figure out what the hell I’m going to wear. Even if I did have anything that’s white it definitely won’t fit anymore-”

“I’ll take you shopping in the morning if you want. I’ll do anything you want.” 

She laughs again, leaning her forehead against his, “You hate the mall.”

“But I love you,” he replies, stamping his lips against hers, “And I can make an exception on our wedding day.” 

She smiles, her cheeks aching with it, her heart swelling with happiness she had once thought was impossible. 

“Our wedding day,” she says, emphasising the words as she repeats them back to him, “I love you so fucking much.” 

“No cursing in front of Nugget,” he says, laughing when she rolls her eyes at him, and he places his hand on her stomach, the feeling of their baby shifting beneath Emily’s skin making the moment seem even more special. “We’re really going to do this?” 

She smiles, nodding as she bites her lower lip, “Yeah,” she replies, “We’re getting married tomorrow.” 

-x-

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[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Family Reunion- Bill Weasley x OC

Bill Weasley x Sophia O’Malley

Description: Molly plans a small family reunion after a year of not seeing Bill and Sophia. When Aunt Muriel shows up, Bill already knows things will be bad. He didn’t think it’d go as far as insulting his wife, and he is never about to let that slide.

Word Count: 3.2k

“Hey look Bill, your mum’s having a small family reunion in a few weeks,” Sophia informed Bill as she walked back into their shared apartment. Her eyes didn’t leave the mail in her hands until she finished reading the invitation.

“Really? What for?” Bill asked from the dining room table. Sophia shrugged as she handed the card to him.

“Doesn’t say. Your mum probably just misses us,” she joked, kissing his cheek before picking her cup of coffee. She took a sip while he scanned the invitation. He pursed his lips and hummed, looking up at her.

“How do you feel about it?” Sophia couldn’t help but smile at her husband. Even when it came to her family, he still wanted to make sure she was okay with it.

“It sounds fun,” she answered with a shrug. “We need to go tell someone we’re taking a few days off though.” Bill stood and kissed her forehead.

“I’ll take care of that when we get to the tomb. Go get ready, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” he instructed, taking their plates to the kitchen to wash.

“Yes mother,” Sophia teased, eliciting Bill to stick his tongue out at her. She laughed and went to their bedroom to get dressed.

As the days leading up to them leaving got closer, Bill had started to become antsy. This obviously did not go unnoticed by Sophia. After he messed up breaking a curse in one of the tombs, their other partner instructed her to get Bill out of there to cool off. The two went to sit down and Sophia handed an exasperated Bill a water bottle.

“Bill, what’s going on?” She finally asked. “You’ve been acting weird all this week. Did I do something?” Bill’s eyes widened at her last question. She thought this was her fault? He shook his head frantically and sat up.

“No, absolutely not. This isn’t your fault, Soph,” he answered, taking her hands.

“Then what is it?” She asked worriedly. Bill sighed and looked to the ground. It felt stupid to him, but it wasn’t going to be solved until he talked about it.

“It’s the reunion,” he started slowly, only confusing Sophia more. “Well, you know I’ve obviously...changed my style,” he added upon seeing her confusion. It seemed to connect in Sophia’s mind.

“And you’re worried about what your family will say,” she finished. He nodded somberly and sighed. Sophia looked down at herself then at him again.

“Well, look at me. I haven’t exactly kept my style of skirts and polos,” she spoke, gesturing to her black ripped shorts and muggle rock band t-shirt with one hand. Bill’s eyes went to her outfit, and when she noticed his eyes linger on her exposed legs she laughed and smacked his arm.

“Bill, I’m being serious,” she giggled. A smile replaced his sullen look, which lifted her spirits immensely.

“I can’t help it, those shorts look great on you,” he answered with an eased smile. “Maybe you’ve got a point.”

“Exactly. They’re going to be ogling at us anyways, so why not just let them? There’s nothing wrong with our style, people change all the time. We look hot and we’re happy with each other and our styles. That’s all that matters, right?” She asked, to which he nodded in response. “There’s nothing to be worried about then. Besides, Charlie and Adora will be there. You’ll regret it if you don’t at least go to see him.” She was right about that, Bill had to admit. He hadn’t seen his younger brother and his girlfriend since his and Sophia’s wedding and he missed him dearly.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t care if they don’t like it, we look great,” he finally said.

“Of course I’m right. Don’t you know me?” She joked sassily, making Bill laugh and wrap his arms around her after they stood.

“Yes I do. You’re my amazing wife who happens to look quite fit in those shorts.” He smirked when she blushed.

“You’re annoying,” she said simply, not meaning a word and he knew it.

“And you’re amazing,” he answered in the same tone. “Ready to get back to work?” Sophia nodded and picked up her wand once more.

“Try not to get distracted again, okay?” She teased. Bill rolled his eyes playfully.

“Don’t think that’ll be possible with you looking like that,” he answered. Sophia couldn’t help but laugh as she led him back to the tomb to continue their earlier work.

They used a Portkey to return to London. Since there was one not far from the Burrow, they decided it was just easier to travel that way. Once they were there and their things were accounted for, they used apparition to get to the front steps of the Burrow. Bill knocked a few times on the door to alert the people inside of their entrance before stepping in.

“Mum?” He called out as Sophia followed him inside. Sophia heard something drop a short distant in the kitchen then Molly practically ran out to greet her children.

“Oh Bill!” She exclaimed as she reached him, taking his face in her hands and kissing each of his cheeks. Bill laughed and greeted her with a hug before moving aside so Sophia could get the same treatment.

“Sophie, how wonderful to see you again,” she spoke joyfully. “How have you been?” The girl laughed at her mother-in-law.

“I’m well, it’s wonderful to see you as well,” she responded. Bill had shed his overcoat and moved behind his wife to help her out of hers before hanging them up. It was only then that Molly got a look at their outfits. Bill wore a plain black button down shirt under a dragon skin jacket (though it wasn’t real, Charlie’d have a fit), black denim jeans and combat boots. Under Sophia’s coat she wore a plain black tee tucked into red and black plaid pants. Over her shirt was a dark jean jacket and she also wore black combat boots.

Molly was even more surprised when Bill reached behind his head and pulled his now shoulder length hair out of the ponytail she hadn’t even realized it was in. Sophia and Bill watched her, awaiting her reaction nervously. She seemed to sense their unease, and smiled playfully at her son.

“Merlin Bill, I tell you to cut your hair once and you decide to grow your hair out. I see how it is then,” she teased. The couple let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding and Bill shrugged coyly.

“What can I say? Guess it’s just my lifestyle,” he joked back. Molly laughed and gave him one more side hug before leading them to the living room.

“Come on, everyone is in the living room,” she instructed. The two followed her after sharing a relieved smile. True to her word, the rest of the Weasleys were sitting around the living room. Charlie sat in one of the arm chairs with Adora sitting on the arm while Percy talked to them from the other armchair. Fred, George and Ron were sitting on the couch, Ginny sat on the floor leaning against the coffee table. Arthur was messing with a radio on the floor beside her. When they entered, all eyes were on them. It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Everyone seemed to look shocked, except for Charlie. Sophia had the sneaking suspicion that he knew Bill’s style would change into something like this.

“Are you wearing an earring?” Adora asked, gazing at his left ear. Bill was wearing the fang earrings that Sophia made for him, but since only his left ear was pierced, she fashioned the second one into a necklace for herself. ‘Consider it a connection between us,’ she said upon showing him for the first time.

“Uh, yeah,” Bill answered hesitantly. “Soph’s wearing the other one.” He gestured to Sophia, who pulled the necklace out from under her shirt to show them.

“Wicked,” the twins spoke simultaneously. Sophia’s shoulders eased and she smiled as they stood. She met them halfway and gave them each a hug. Ginny was the next one up and she gave Sophia the tightest hug she’d ever given.

“I missed you. You need to visit more often,” Ginny pouted when they pulled away. Sophia giggled and sent a wink her way.

“Maybe I could talk Bill into taking you back with us.’ Ginny visibly lit up at that and nodded profusely. Arthur finally stood and embraced her, kissing the side of her head. Greeting everyone lasted ten full minutes, but neither of them minded.

“Alright you guys, let your brother and Sophie get settled in before everyone else gets here,” Molly instructed. Bill grabbed both of their bags and followed Sophia upstairs.

“It’s nice to see they approve,” Bill commented as she hopped on his bed carelessly.

“Yeah. I thought if they stared at me any longer I’d just fall out,” she giggled. Bill smiled and crawled into bed beside her, leaning against the headboard. Her head laid on her lap and he played with one of her curls lazily.

Ten minutes later, they heard a knock on his bedroom door. They glanced at each other shortly before calling for the person on the other side of it to answer. Charlie peeked his head in, and smiled awkwardly when Sophia greeted him.

“Hey, just a warning: Aunt Muriel’s here.” Bill groaned loudly, causing Sophia to shush him quickly. The girl thanked the younger Weasley, who nodded and closed the door upon leaving. Sophia briefly met Aunt Muriel during their wedding reception. To say the least, Muriel had to be escorted out by Molly’s cousin for drinking copious amounts of champagne and belittling the other guests. Other than that, she had no other experience with the older woman. However, if that was a harbinger of Muriel’s true personality, she doesn’t want to interact with her much.

“Kill me now,” she heard Bill mumble under his breath. She sat up with the shake of her head before looking at him.

“No, none of that Bill. You don’t have to interact with her much, there are plenty of people here now,” she stated, glancing out the window to see a few different makes and models of cars in the driveway, but other than that the rest of the family used the Floo Network from what she could hear downstairs.

“Just say a quick hi to her, ask her how she’s been, then move on,” she instructed as she stood. Bill repeated her words then pursed his lips. He finally sighed, nodding her way before standing up. Sophia looked into the mirror above his dresser and fluffed her hair.

“Do I look okay?” She asked. She then watched through the mirror as Bill eyed her up and down and smirked.

“You know what, don’t answer that,” she added quickly, causing Bill to chuckle. Turning to face him, she straightened out his jacket then kissed his cheek. He put a polite smile on his face and took her hand, walking out of the room.

“Oh, that must be Bill,” Molly said, already sounding exhausted as they made their way down the creaking stairs. When they arrived into the now full living room, all eyes were on them. The family’s reactions were a mix of surprised delight and just shock. Aunt Muriel was facing away when they walked in, but when she realized everyone was facing the other way she turned around. A horrified gasp left her lips at the sight of the “new” Bill Weasley.

“What’s happened to you, William?” Sophia would have flinched at the woman’s bluntness if Bill hadn’t squeezed her hand. She had a feeling that getting out of this conversation was easier in theory than in practice.

“Hello Aunt Muriel,” Bill greeted politely. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” Aunt Muriel didn’t seem to care about his sentiment.

“Have you joined some sort of cult? Did one of those tombs curse you to have such a dark lifestyle? I wouldn’[t be surprised, curse breakers aren’t exactly the most competent of professions.” Sophia could tell that Bill was already starting to lose his cool, so she was quick to move beside him.

“Hello Muriel. Do you remember me? I’m-” she was cut off by the woman herself.

“William’s wife, Samantha. I’m not stupid,” Muriel snarked, making Sophia close her mouth immediately. She had a feeling she’d only make things worse by correcting Muriel, so she decided against it. The woman’s eyes penetrated her soul in a way that made her uncomfortable. Muriel’s eyes shifted between her and Bill.

“Ah-ha!” She suddenly exclaimed, effectively scaring everyone in the silent room. “I bet you were the one to poison William’s mind. I knew there was something wrong with you the moment he introduced us at his wedding, I told Molly but she didn’t listen, as per usual,” she snarked. Sophia had to admit she was becoming troubled by Muriel’s venom-like words. It was a secret to no one that Bill was Muriel’s favorite. Everyone knew it, and to hear Muriel insult her just made it all the worse. She hadn’t even realized she’d begun to tear up until the woman continued her speech.

“It seems that my intuition was right yet again. You’re nothing but an immoral, inconsiderate and ignorant degenerate that poisoned the mind of my great nephew!” Sophia let out a sob and covered her mouth, feeling absolutely embarrassed and humiliated. Charlie, who stood just to the side of her, was quick to pull her into a comforting hug, George and Fred surrounding them a moment later. Muriel sat down in the armchair Percy occupied earlier that day looking as if nothing was wrong. In fact, she looked quite proud of herself, which only made Bill’s blood boil even more.

Bill looked at Charlie, who gave him a knowing look then pulled her to the side away from everyone’s view. It wasn’t until Bill couldn’t see her that he faced his great-aunt again, not wanting her to see him so angry. There was a fury in his eyes that no one had seen before, it almost actually scared Molly.

“How dare you,” Bill hissed. “All my life I’ve gone through a lot to make sure you’re always comfortable during your stays here. I’ve watched you wrongly punish Fred and George for nothing when mum refused, insult Charlie’s interest in dragons, brush off the fact that Ginny literally broke her wrist while under your care, and I have listened to you degrade every single person around you without any regard to the fact that you have your own flaws!” Muriel looked offended at his rant and leaned back.

“William, dear it’s just my old-” Bill cut her off.

“Your old age making you say things, your usual excuse,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Being old doesn’t give you permission to say awful things to people Aunt Muriel! And I’ll have you know, Sophia didn’t make me change my style, I did that on my own accord because I genuinely liked it. Sophia is the love of my life and the best person I could ever know, so I don't take kindly to people that make her cry, family or not. If you don’t like her, that’s fine. But keep it to yourself, and if you find that you can’t even do that, then either don’t talk to us or better yet, don’t come at all!” He was panting by the time he finished. As much as he tried to prevent it, he still managed to get riled up by Aunt Muriel.

Everyone could only stare at him shocked. In all the time they had to deal with the rude woman, no one wanted to be the one to say anything to her. It’s safe to say that they were surprised that Bill was the one to finally go off on her. After a very tense silence, Muriel stood up with no emotion on her face.

“Well, does anyone else have anything they want to say before I leave? Since I’m clearly not wanted here,” she asked passive aggressively, looking around. She perked up when Molly stepped forward beside Bill, assuming that she’d be coming to her defense.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t ever talk about my daughter again if you want to be invited back here,” she stated firmly, making Muriel’s shoulders drop.

“Same here,” Arthur spoke as he stood on the other side of Molly. Fred and George gave each other a nod then moved beside Bill.

“Or our sister.” The other Weasley siblings agreed with the two, and Bill held back a smile. He was silently surprised that Percy joined in, but he guessed that the mutual hatred of Aunt Muriel brings people together. Muriel looked absolutely defeated as she realized it was her against everyone.

“Well then, I wish you all a good night. Enjoy your little party,” she spoke in a bitter voice as she stepped into the fireplace. No one stopped her as she threw down the Floo Powder and yelled to go home.

There was silence in the home for a while before laughter was heard. Fred and George were practically gasping for breath as they cackled. Bill had to hold back a laugh when he looked back at the duo.

“Did you lot see her face!” Fred exclaimed between the copious laughter.

“She looked as if you stomped on that god-awful pink hat of hers right in front of her!” George added humorously. Molly smacked each of their shoulders, but they could tell she was holding back laughter.

“Boys, that’s enough,” she scolded, now attempting to hide her smile. Arthur ruffled Bill’s hair and congratulated him for standing up for himself shortly before Molly faced everyone else.

“Well, dinner is ready for anyone hungry. Bilius I know you traveled a long way, come now,” she said, leading him to the kitchen with a few others following them. Bill patted his father’s arm then walked over to Sophia, who was still under Charlie’s arm.

“Bill, you really didn’t have to do that,” she spoke softly. Charlie took Adora’s hand and led her to the kitchen, the two understanding the couple wanted to be alone.

“I’m well aware, but I think it’s high time someone finally put her in her place,” he mumbled, taking one of her hands and kissing her knuckles. Sophia smiled weakly at him then looked down.

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant for her to make a scene. I just wanted to calm her down,” she muttered, sounding ashamed for some reason.

“Hey,” he responded, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him. “You did absolutely nothing wrong, my love. None of this was your fault in the slightest. Aunt Muriel is a judgemental wench that doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.” Sophia bit her lip so she didn’t burst out laughing at his description of her. She gave him a small nod, signalling she understood. Bill grinned and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Now how about we go get some food? I’m starving,” he asked as he pulled away.

“You’re always starving when we get here, you act like I don’t feed you,” she spoke as she began walking to the kitchen. Bill wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin as he followed closely behind her in a weird walk/waddle.

“That’s not the only thing you do for me,” he mumbled suggestively. She laughed aloud at that and smacked his hands away as they joined the rest of the family.

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @dontjudgemeimawriter.

My words to find were rain, cabinet, chocolate, & view.

Passing the tag to @aether-wasteland-s, @imbrisvastatio, @wrenofthewords, @writernopal, and and open tag for whomever else wants to participate.

Your words shall be pelt, curiosity, hot, & unobstructed.

Rain: Empty Names - 1 - Hello World

As they cross the parking lot, Lacuna notices a change in the pattern of the rain pelting her and realizes Road’s held the umbrella out to cover her.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  By the way, is there something else you’d prefer I call you?”

“What?  No, no, Lacuna’s fine.”  Better than fine, really.  Better than expected even.

Back up the stairs and at the door, Lacuna pauses with the key half turned in the lock.  “Oh, before we go in, I apologize ahead of time for the mess.  It’s been a rough few weeks and I wasn’t expecting company.”

The disclaimer is met with a reassuring smile and a soft shake of the head.  “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.” 

“Right.  Right.  Of course.”  The key completes its turn along with the knob and the door cracks open.  “And heads up, this thing can be a bit -”

“AND THE FLESHY MORSEL COMES CRAWLING BACK TO ME, RESIGNED TO HIS PITIFUL FATE IN HOPES FOR A QUICK DEATH BEFORE MY MEAL AS A REWARD FOR HIS COMPLIANCE!”

“Loud…”

Cabinet: Empty Names - 11 - Afterparty

As he lets go to drop into the plushly upholstered chair now beneath him a buzzing electric chandelier flickers to life, revealing the recreation of a nineteenth century occultist’s séance parlor around him.  Dark red velvet curtains (expensive) lining the walls, crystal ball (mundane) nestled in a pillow on the table (mahogany) in front of him, ouija board (fake) on one side, tarot deck (fake but good for introspection) on the other, human skull (real) on a nearby pedestal, cabinet of curiosities (fraudulent) behind him, and eldritch communion incense (distressingly real) resting cold and unburnt in a tentacle-shaped holder.

It had been another one of Carnette’s little jokes, setting up this hackneyed facade on top of the actual necromantic summoning chamber of her own design.  There was always one of those to go through anytime Sullivan wanted to get into the tools and mechanisms she’d left behind.  Daily reminders of her just as constant as the blue metal wedding band on his finger.

Chocolate: The Archivist's Journal, Day 2

For that matter, I couldn’t (and still can’t) remember a great number of things, who I am or where I was before this chief among them.  Or rather, I know things about myself, but not my history.  I know what a cat is but not if I’ve ever had one as a pet.  I know I like hot chocolate but can’t bring to mind the context of a time I ever drank it.  I know what microwaves, electronics, the internet, gerrymandering, atomic structures, feudal governing systems, and crop rotation all are and have varying degrees of understanding on how they work and have opinions on some of them, but I can’t remember learning those things or where (or if) I ever directly encountered any of them.  And from what I’ve seen I don’t think this place has any of those.

Even my own body felt unfamiliar once I finally got up and tried moving.  Like all my limbs were slightly different proportions than my reflexes were used to and my center of gravity displaced.

Looking back, it’s probably a good thing I was so out of it at the time.  I probably would have panicked pretty bad.

View: The Archivist's Journal, Day 3

The tower! How did I forget to mention that yesterday?  If there’s one thing I’ve seen in my brief time here that convinces me that this place is somehow fundamentally removed from the world I have vague memories of it’s that.  Look to the north and so long as your view of the sky is unobstructed you’ll see it.  A structure, maybe stone, maybe metal; difficult to gauge its distance due to the sheer impossible scale of it.  From my house… the thought feels strange to put to paper but I suppose it is my house, at least for now… it appears to be a cylinder rising straight into the clouds and beyond until it vanishes beyond the capacity of the naked eye to make out.  There are so many reasons it simply shouldn’t be able to exist, and yet it does.  

[thehaemanthus]

Now you see I just read “three parter” as “three partner” and I-

love the way your mind works, bestie

well, I don't think this qualifies as three partner, but there is a relationship between three people in this angsty thing that I'm dusting off--

we gotta chat though, what would three partner look like?

The pain of his knees hitting the floor doesn’t even register. 

What is it, compared to the pain in his heart? What are some bruises to the way that his soul is tearing itself apart? He can’t think. There is only a scream, one long, continuous, desperate scream crowding out all else. 

Rhys curls over, one hand pressed against his mouth, the other bracing himself on the floor. The rug. If he opened his eyes, would he see the familiar rug in the foyer? Has it changed in the 50 years he has been gone?

He does not want to open his eyes. He breathes in— it nearly bowls him over. The air outside the Mountain was a relief, but the air in the Night Court is different all together. It smells like home. It smells…

“Rhys?”

It smells like her.

“Oh, praise the Mother.” Steps rush towards him. “Rhys.”

He breaks. 

Rhys curls up further into himself, broken sobs spilling past a clenched jaw. Hot tears spill down his cheeks. He shivers uncontrollably, wracked by the inescapable pain. 

“I’m here.” That familiar voice. Those familiar arms wrap around him, and Rhys falls into a soft body. Those gentle hands stroke his hair, rub his back. A voice Rhys has heard every day for centuries, the voice he has been deprived of for decades, choked with her own tears. “You’re safe. You’re home. It will be all right.” 

But it won’t. 

Rhys bites his tongue. His hands clutch the arms around him, digging in though he does not want to cause pain. But better it be this pain. Better this pain than the anguish he could inflict by opening his mouth.

A stifled, animal wail gets buried into the female’s shoulder. Cauldron, how does he bear this? How has anyone before him done it?

Rhys left her standing on the side of the mountain, clueless and newly reborn, shattered and all too curious about him. 

“Rhysand.” A soothing voice coaxes his head up. And he can’t help it. Just like he couldn’t help calling to her one last time, seeing her face before going back home, hearing her voice. He can’t help it, because he needs this sight, this voice, this touch just as much. More. He needs it more. 

He should want this more. 

Dark brown, unbound hair spills in front of his vision. He follows it up, staring into pale green eyes, watery with tears. 

“My love,” she says, brushing the tears from his face. A tearful smile stretches across a beautiful face. “Oh, my love. I’ve missed you so much.”

He missed her, too. He spent every breathing moment longing for her. The rare time of solitude was spent remembering all the ways they had made each other happy, and coming up with new things to do to make her smile once he was free. The most awful moments were spent pleading for her forgiveness. When Rhys was feeling his lowest, he imagined being held in her arms, imagined what she might say to make him feel better, because she always did. He fantasized about holding her hand and walking down a street in the daylight or dancing under the stars.

“Asiya,” he croaks. 

A sob breaks her smile, hands framing his face shaking. “You’re home.” It is a less of a reassurance, more of a declaration, less of a statement for him and more of a crow of joy for her. 

This is home.

The hands leave his face. She scoots back a bit, rubbing at her face and sniffing, composing herself because she is always so put together, always reverting to poise. Her hands lift a chain off her neck. Unclasp it. Slide off the wedding band. She lifts his left hand, and like the ceremony all those centuries ago, slips the band back onto his ring finger. 

His hand shakes. 

She is his wife. 

But Feyre is his mate.

[ovaryacted]

NOELLE! ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY??? I was already excited when you said you were gonna write for pervy! Joel Miller who’s a biker, tatted, and a whole dilf. But my fucking god, I was not expecting a fic like this. Honest to God, not only is this probably my favorite thing I’ve read on Tumblr in like ever, this is also my favorite piece from you, it changed my brain chemistry. I don’t know what type of crack you took to come up with this masterpiece, but I’ll have whatever you’re having cause holy shit. I don’t have any other words besides you’re crazy, and I loved every single word of this fic to the point where I damn near posted every single line from the fic in this reblog LMAO. I couldn't fit every one of my favorite lines, like the whole last portion of the fic where Joel takes pictures of the reader for him to have?? Oh you're crazy.

I will spare you from reading so damn much I hope. 😭 Just know that I have always loved your big, slutty, perverted brain. You just get it, you get Joel, and YOU GET ME!!! I loved this so damn much, and I can’t wait to see what craziness you have in mind for part 2. WE LOVE YOU PERVY! JOEL MILLER! THANK YOU FOR BIRTHING THIS IDEA AND BRINGING HIM TO US YES MA'AM!!! I WANNA SHAKE YOUR HAND!!!

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence.

Now why do I have a crush on the reader like…obviously it’s technically us sure but, the fact that I’m seeing her as her own individual?? Oh yeah, me likey. She real for that tho. She also sounds hot as fuck with the way she acts, dresses, and her tattoos. Mmmm CHECK PLEASE!

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring.

DIVORCED JOEL MILLER AND HE HAS A PINKIE RING?? YOU’RE SICK! YOU’RE SO FUCKING SICKKKKKKK!!! I NEED HIM SO BAD PLEASEEEE!!!

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.  You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.

HEUOBAOBDA BRO WHAT??? WHATS THIS FINNA PLAYY??? WOAHHHHH???? My jaw is detached. Nah, I’m calling the freak police!

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so.

This whole paragraph…my god like. How do you come up with this shit? Like honestly. I just want to sit in your brain for a second, spin around like a rotisserie chicken, and watch the neurons fire as you come up with such fun, refreshing, and exciting ways to describe things. Joel is such a horny bastard, worshipping his son’s ex’s pussy the way he should’ve done from the beginning. I fucking love him. 

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him. 

YEAH FUCK THAT BITCH! FUCK THAT EX! WE’RE SO BEATING HIS BASTARD SON’S ASS! FUCKING SLAYYYY!! WE FUCKING WONNNN!!!

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.”

HE’S FUCKING CRAZYYYYYYYYY????? KIDDO??? TALKING ABOUT HIS SON?? MY JAW IS NOT ATTACHED TO MY HEAD OH MY GOD?? This did something to me. My stomach was doing flips like. Oh my god. 

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth.

BYEE! FUCK YOU! BYEE! Ugh, the fact that Joel has the capacity to be sweet and kind despite having this rugged exterior, especially with his tattoos and the fact that he’s a biker. Your mind Noelle, your mind is so big and grand it amazes me so much.

A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him.

Now why did you read me like that. 🤨 All shade tho, I’d happily let Joel break my heart if it meant he can break my back continuously. 🤭

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash.  You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

UGHHHH!! I honestly relate to the reader truly, coming out of a breakup and all you want to do is be reckless and care less about the morals of things and just let go. I’m glad and happy that the reader is indulging in her fantasies of wanting Joel and not giving a fuck about shit and being desired as she should. I love them, I need more of them, I don’t know if I want to be the reader, or be Joel, or be a fly on the wall. Just perfect, 10s across the board, no notes. 

that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night. 

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again. 

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?” 

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad. 

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you. 

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence. 

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend. 

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover. 

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. 

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip. 

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it. 

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it. 

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice. 

You need something new, something fresh, babe. 

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person. 

Trust me, it’ll be good for you. 

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind. 

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months. 

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes. 

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome. 

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember. 

Fuck. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.  

 And oh. 

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new. 

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring. 

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else. 

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.  

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.  

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires. 

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.” 

Confusion floods his features. 

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips. 

“She cheated on you,” you retort. 

“How did–” 

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.” 

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip. 

 “Hey, you raised him,” you joke. 

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug. 

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“What?” you ask. 

 “Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

 You look at him pointedly. 

 “Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little. 

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.” 

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch. 

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” 

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?” 

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify. 

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering. 

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks. 

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?” 

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them. 

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him. 

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again. 

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar. 

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease. 

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp. 

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom. 

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning. 

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate. 

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined. 

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.” 

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?” 

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words. 

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear. 

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so. 

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him. 

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness. 

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.  

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out. 

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk. 

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” 

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror. 

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be. 

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn. 

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it. 

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats. 

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites. 

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard. 

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him. 

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic. 

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh. 

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will. 

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot. 

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?” 

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly. 

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’  – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard. 

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.” 

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought. 

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock. 

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.” 

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?” 

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper. 

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release. 

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you. 

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him. 

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you. 

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you. 

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls. 

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip. 

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin. 

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror. 

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands. 

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock. 

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you. 

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.” 

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy. 

And then it hits you. 

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with? 

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one. 

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly. 

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters. 

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya. 

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth. 

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things  — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth. 

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more. 

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.” 

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. 

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give. 

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks. 

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you. 

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.” 

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out. 

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t. 

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you. 

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting. 

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun. 

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number. 

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo. 

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine. 

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong. 

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home. 

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel. 

He’s already watching you. 

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid. 

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash. 

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

[moohnshinescorner]

✨✨OUT NOW!✨✨ THE BRIDGES I'VE BURNED by JL Berg is out now! Check out the hot new small town rockstar romance be sure to grab your copy today! ✨Secret Identity ✨Roommates ✨Forced Proximity ✨Returning Home Out Now : https://bit.ly/TBIBAmazon ~*~ On the cusp of stardom, she was the twist I never saw coming...

On my eighteenth birthday, I ran away from home in search of a better life. Ever since, I've been trying to prove it was worth it. When I'm asked to join one of the biggest rock bands in the country, it finally feels like everything is falling into place.

That is, until I receive a wedding invitation from my estranged brother, Macon. We haven't seen each other in over ten years for a reason, and returning to Ocracoke is the last thing I want to do.

Less than an hour off the ferry, I stumble into a bar and meet her. She's gorgeous and easy to talk to, and we bond over music. Before I get the chance to learn her name, she ghosts me.

Imagine my surprise when I arrive at Macon’s house the next day, only to find her answering the door. It turns out my mystery woman is Elena, the best friend of Macon's fiancée – and my temporary roommate for the next three weeks.

Talk about complicated.

I've never wanted a woman more, but the odds are against us. We live on opposite sides of the country, both with demanding careers. Oh, and the biggest problem? I'm about to be famous and I can't tell anyone.

Not even Elena.

I’ve been working my entire life to get to this moment, but I can’t help but wonder... will any of it be worth it without her?

Out Now : https://bit.ly/TBIBAmazon

REVIEW

I absolutely loved Zander's story. His character is fun, sexy, entertaining, yet damaged and serious. He sometimes has a God complex, often sacrificing his feelings to allow others happiness. He is a wonderful person.

Zander and Macon had a horrible childhood. Zander felt abandoned by his family and sought out a family of his own. As a session guitarist, Zander has slowly made a name and life for himself. When an opportunity rises he jumps on it and doesn't realize exactly how his life is to change.

On a path to speak his mind and close a door to the past that hurts him, Zander shows up for his brother Macon's engagement party. What Zander doesn't know is that he will meet someone who will change everything and he will realize his past isn't what defines his future.

This story is packed with emotions and is a beautiful read about two brothers coming together again after years of estrangement. This book has it all flirtatious fun, family drama, misunderstandings, sinful desires, sexy men and most importantly love.

If you love books about self discovery and family ties, then this book is for you. I thoroughly enjoyed it and would read more by this author.

[mark6f]

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[whats-her-quirk]

(with or without) my best intentions

pairing: tenya iida x fem!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

tags: office romance, coworkers to friends with benefits to lovers, quirkless modern AU, romcom vibes and cheesiness

warnings: stress and anxiety, alcohol, consensual drunk sex, public sex, wall sex (Tenya lifts reader), brief pregnancy scare, car sex, tit sucking, secret hookups, teasing, shoe dangling, lingerie, oral sex, pining, fluffy smut, one (1) use of ‘sir’ as a pet name, tenya says ‘good girl,’ a wedding but not ours, minor character ships

word count: 20k

a/n: it's finally here! This is my piece for the @mybigbangacademia

art from @kaexiao - coming soon!

♪ fuck and run - surfer blood

-

When Tenya is running, air hot in his lungs as he paces himself to his music, he feels weightless. He’s curated his playlists by beats per minute, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the pavement syncing up as he achieves cardio zen. When it’s just him and the road—he’ll use a treadmill in the winter, but he’s always preferred to run outside as much as possible—his mind tends to finally, blessedly, switch off.

He wipes a bead of sweat from under the bridge of his glasses as he turns back onto his street for the final stretch of his jog. The exercise is second nature at this point; he’s been running since he was a hyperactive little kid that his parents signed up for cross-country. His stamina and endurance are only improving with age and the magic of a decent weight-training regimen. For all intents and purposes, he’s hitting his late twenties right in stride.

So why now, when he’s in the best shape of his life, more comfortable with himself as a person than he’s ever been, and working his way up to middle management at the office, does Tenya feel like he’s being dragged into a black hole that’s trying to swallow him alive? Before, his morning run was enough to clear his head and get him through the day, and lifting and resistance bands at night would help stave off the twisting, anxious feelings again until he fell into bed, dead tired and lost to the world.

But the past few weeks, all he’s done is toss and turn, barely hitting REM sleep before his alarm is going off and he’s lacing up his tennis shoes to do it all over again. He can’t focus at work; he can’t relax at home. He’s never been this stressed out in his life, and he can’t seem to figure out why.

—

Izuku calls Tenya while he’s on his way to work. Tenya answers with the Bluetooth in his steering wheel, which he doesn’t particularly like to do because it takes a bit of his focus off the road. However, he knows that his friend is in a bit of a rough patch, and an ignored call might do more harm than good for both of them.

“Did you see?” Izuku asks with a sniffle and absolutely no context.

“See what?”

“They went Facebook official. That means it’s for real, for real.” Izuku groans, and Tenya hears something that sounds distinctly like his friend’s head hitting a table. That’s all the context Tenya needs.

Izuku has been Tenya’s best friend since middle school, and for almost as many years, he’s been in love with Uraraka. While he had tried a few different times to show her how he felt, he refused to come right out and confess, for fear of rejection. Now he’s paying the price—according to mutual friends, she’s been seeing Bakugou for nearly two months. Izuku has been an absolute wreck since he found out, and now, apparently, they’ve changed their status to ‘in a relationship.’

“I’m sorry, Midoriya. I know how much you care about her.” Tenya can’t think of anything more comforting to say as he turns into the parking deck of the office building.

“I feel like someone ripped my heart out of my body and stomped on it,” Izuku sighs. “And why did it have to be him?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” Tenya can imagine how much it stings, losing the person of your dreams to your sworn rival turned frenemy—as convoluted as it sounds. He wants to be sympathetic, really. But in all honesty, Izuku never made a move when he had the chance, so he should have seen something like this coming. She wasn’t bound to stay single forever.

Tenya pulls into his parking spot, right on time to be five minutes early. After reassuring his friend that he is not, in fact, ‘actually dying’ and promising to meet up after work, he’s able to get Izuku to end the call. With his briefcase in hand, he heads for the walkway that leads inside the building.

In the six years since Tenya started working at Plus Ultra, the company has grown and changed considerably, but one thing he can always count on. When he steps in the front door, Kaminari greets him brightly from the reception desk. “Hey there, handsome. Happy Monday!”

“Good morning.” Tenya knows not to take Kaminari’s flirtatiousness seriously—he talks to everyone like that, and it’s one of the reasons he makes such a good receptionist. In fact, his organization skills are so dismal at times, Tenya has to think his friendly, easygoing energy is the only thing keeping him employed.

Back when they were hired, Tenya and Kaminari were two of about twenty employees. Now the company employs nearly fifty people, plus freelancers. What was once a small startup selling cutting-edge exercise and physical therapy equipment to gyms and health centers around the country is now a leader in fitness product design and customized equipment distribution. While Tenya likes to think that it was his business degree and work portfolio that earned him his job, he’s fairly certain it didn’t hurt that he’s a bit of a health and fitness nut himself.

When Tenya looks up from wiping his feet on the rug, he notices he’s not the only one at reception. You’re bent over the front of Kaminari’s desk, your purse still slung across your body and your feet hovering off the floor and out of your shoes. You’re craning your neck to see Kaminari’s computer screen—why you didn’t just walk around the desk, Tenya couldn’t guess. All he knows is he has to force his eyes away from the slit in the back of your pencil skirt, for the sake of his dignity and yours.

He clears his throat before speaking your name, offering you a polite, “Good morning,” as well. While he’s not quite sure if he would call you a close friend, you’re certainly in his circle of ‘work friends.’ You haven’t been at the company as long as he has, but the two of you have worked together for years—you in marketing, him in the quality department.

“Hey, Iida.” You drop back to the floor, bare feet sliding back into your little pointed loafers. “Wanna come with us to lunch today? We’re gonna go to the deli, I think.” You motion to Kaminari with your hand as you extend the invitation.

Tenya adjusts his tie as he rounds the corner toward his department. “Sure, just send me a message on IM when you want to leave.” For better or worse, the office uses messaging software that’s equally as useful for sending quick notes that aren’t worth a full email as it is for sending memes from across the room.

It’s still early, so Tenya doesn’t run into anyone else on his way to his cubicle. He decides he’ll wait to grab a coffee before the weekly department meeting, opting to crack open his email first instead. After starting out as an account manager, working directly to meet client needs, Tenya was quickly transferred to quality assurance, where the work is more internal and process-driven. It’s his job to make sure that design, manufacturing, and sales are running as efficiently as possible. In practice, it’s mostly spreadsheets and data, but Tenya takes great pride in every improvement he’s been able to help coordinate. 

Coworkers trickle in, settling in their cubicles as Tenya works his way through several of the emails that he got over the weekend. He’s so focused on getting the simple inquiries taken care of that he doesn’t notice the time until Shouto appears in his doorway. “You coming?”

“Yep.” Leaving his email where it is, Tenya tucks a yellow legal pad under his arm and a pen in the pocket of his vest. He’d wear a blazer if it didn’t get so hot in the building during the summer. For the next few months, to keep from sweating through his shirts every day, he’ll stick with a vest and tie, rolling up his shirtsleeves when he wants to cool down.

At the doorway, Shouto hands him one of the two paper coffee cups he’s holding, and they head to the conference room. “Thanks, I was just about to get my own.” Tenya takes a long, blissful sip of his coffee—one cream, Shouto knows.

Shouto yawns, and Tenya notices the dark circle rimming his unscarred eye. “No problem. If you didn’t want it, I would have just drank both.”

“Long night?” Tenya asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

“Long weekend,” Shouto sighs. “When I wasn’t fighting with my dad about the guest list, I was begging Hanta to help me choose the flowers, the napkins—anything. It’s like pulling teeth with him and I don’t know why.”

The two of them pass the rows of cubicles separated by low partitions until they reach the glass door of the conference room. Shouto slumps into a seat just inside the door, so Tenya sits beside him. “Maybe he’s just feeling overwhelmed with the wedding stuff. It seems like you both are.”

After eight years together, Shouto finally asked Hanta to marry him, and from Tenya’s point of view, his friend has been stressed out of his mind ever since. Hanta has always been so laid back, practically the opposite of Shouto. While Hanta’s generally aloof disposition probably doesn’t help matters, Tenya suspects more of the trouble has to do with Shouto’s family. The Todorokis are well-known in the area—Shouto’s father is a high-ranking government official, and his sister was recently elected to city council. One of his brothers is a professional athlete; the other was publicly disgraced in a hastily hushed scandal a few years back. Even with an estranged mother that has only recently come back into the picture, somehow Shouto has always been the black sheep of the family. And it sounds like his father sees this wedding as more of a publicity stunt than anything else. 

“Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it,” says Shouto. “Sometimes I wish we could just elope and be done with it.”

“Why don’t you?” Tenya asks, flipping over to a fresh sheet of paper on his legal pad. Their coworkers filter into the room one by one, slowly filling the seats around them at the long conference table.

“My father would disown me faster than he did Touya.” Shouto polishes off his coffee with one long sip. “Plus, Hanta deserves a perfect day if he’s going to be stuck with me for the rest of his life.”

“Don’t say that,” Tenya scolds as gently as he can. “You’ve always been a good partner to him. Maybe you should just be honest about needing his help.”

Shouto shrugs as their boss, Sasaki, takes a seat at the head of the table. “Guess so.”

The quality department holds an all-hands meeting first thing on Monday mornings—a necessary evil that helps address the priorities for the week. As VP of the company and head of the quality department, Sasaki leads the meeting in his usual droll tone. He cracks a few jokes about last week’s audits that mostly fall flat to the tired, Monday energy in the room, but at least he tries. Just before the meeting wraps up, Toshinori, the company’s founder and CEO, pops his head in to say good morning and to wish the team a good week. “I’ll be leaving for a rock climbing trip with some potential investors on Thursday,” he says brightly, “so try not to have too much fun while I’m gone!”

Sasaki rubs his temples with the pads of his fingers. “I’ll be covering his duties in his absence, so if you need me Thursday or Friday, no you don’t. Ok, dismissed.”

Papers and laptops shuffle as people file out of the room, some eager and some reluctant to get on with the rest of their mornings. Shouto nudges Tenya’s elbow. “I’m gonna get another coffee. Want one?”

“I’ll come with you,” Tenya offers, but before he can follow Shouto out the door, Sasaki’s voice rings from across the room.

“Iida, could you stay back a minute?”

“Of course.” Tenya waves to Shouto as he makes his exit, then approaches Sasaki at the front of the room. While he’s worked fairly closely with Sasaki the past few years, their relationship is formal, professional perhaps to a fault. When his boss wants to chat, it usually means extra work for Tenya. He tries not to sound too apathetic. “Is there something wrong?”

Sasaki straightens his stack of papers and tucks multiple pens between his fingers before he answers. “Actually, no. Not this time, anyway.” Tenya cracks a smile at his dry humor. Sasaki merely clears his throat. “I won’t keep you in suspense. The company is growing, and as Toshinori takes on more of the public relations work I loathe, my workload is getting out of control.”

“How can I help?”

“I’ll be stepping away from leading the quality department, and we’re creating a Quality Manager role to take over those responsibilities. Would you like to be considered for the position?”

Tenya speaks before he thinks. “Yes, absolutely.” 

Sasaki nods. “Excellent. I’ll get back to you with more details soon, after we talk it over with a few other people.”

Tenya’s own words sit heavily in his own gut for the rest of the morning. The chance to move up in the company—that’s what everyone wants, right? He would be insane to turn down the opportunity for a promotion that probably comes with more perks and a bigger paycheck. He knows that. But even when he’s sitting in the deli down the street at lunch, picking at his salad, he can’t bring himself to be excited about the prospect of it.

“You ok, Iida? You’re white as a sheet.” Shaken—there he was, zoning out again—Tenya looks up from his hands to find your eyes on him, teasing but with a hint of genuine concern behind them.

Kaminari, his mouth full of sweet potato fries, points at Tenya with his fork. “You heard about the promotion, didn’t you?”

“What promotion?” Shouto tagged along for lunch, but he’s mostly been texting since you sat down. Tenya wasn’t sure he was even listening to the conversation.

“How do you know about that?” Tenya asks Kaminari, who leans dramatically over the table to answer while stealing one of Tenya’s fries.

“Honey, I am the eyes and ears of this place. If there’s something going on, I know about it.”

You shove Kaminari by the shoulder. “Shut up. You didn’t even know that Hatsume girl from IT asked Iida out until I told you, and everybody knew about that.”

“Please don’t remind me.” Even though it happened years ago, Tenya still cringes thinking about how loudly Hatsume had propositioned him, right after he had walked out of the bathroom, no less. To make things worse, he’d been so surprised he could only stammer out an uneven yes? that sounded like its own question. The date had gone horribly; he’s avoided calling IT for anything ever since.

“I didn’t mean personal stuff,” says Kaminari. “When it comes to business stuff, I hear what people are talking about. And Iida might be the new Quality Manager.”

Hearing the title again makes Tenya’s stomach flip, but he can’t stop from smiling when you grab his arm and squeal, “Really? That’s so exciting!” It’s stupid, but he thinks it’s really cute how energetic you are.

“Nice.” Shouto puts down his phone and taps his fist against Tenya’s shoulder in congratulations.

“Thank you both, but I don’t have the job yet.” Tenya fidgets with his silverware, aligning the fork and knife with his napkin and then his plate. There’s something he’s been wondering all afternoon. “Sasaki made it sound like they were considering others too. Kaminari, you wouldn’t happen to know…”

“Oh, I know. Or at least, I know of one. I was dropping off some mail and heard Sasaki talking to Monoma in his office. Frankly I don’t even think he’s trying to keep any of this a secret because the door was wide open.”

Tenya rolls his eyes. Of course he’s up against Monoma—that brown-noser.

“He hasn’t said anything to me. Guess that means I’m not in the running,” Shouto hums.

The color rushes out of Kaminari’s face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Todoroki. I didn’t mean to—”

Shouto stops him and shrugs. “It’s fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t want all that responsibility anyway. I have enough to worry about.” Tenya could honestly say the same thing, but before he can comment, you touch his arm again and his mouth dries up.

“Don’t worry. Even though I honestly have no idea what you actually do all day, I know you work harder than just about everyone. No offense, Todoroki.”

Shouto’s absorbed in his phone again. “None taken. I work smarter, not harder.”

“Yeah Iida, lighten up!” Tenya can tell by his big, goofy grin that Kaminari doesn’t mean anything by it. He has no way of knowing how Tenya’s been trapped in his head recently, even before this promotion was thrown into the mix. Even if he’s always been a little high-strung, Tenya knows himself, and if he could relax, even a little bit, he would have done it a long time ago.

—

After waking up to more than a dozen missed texts from various times over the night, Tenya invites Midoriya to come to the gym with him before work. “We’ll get coffee after, my treat,” he tempts over the phone, and reluctantly, Midoriya agrees.

Tenya swings by Midoriya’s tailor shop to pick him up—apparently, he hadn’t gone home last night. His friend is mostly quiet on the way to the gym, heaving restless sighs out the window every few minutes. Frankly, he looks like a wreck, and he clearly hasn’t slept all night. If nothing else, Tenya hopes that a workout will tire Midoriya out enough that he can at least get a little rest.

They part ways after Tenya checks them in at the front desk. Midoriya heads for the lifting machines while Tenya goes up to the second floor to run on the indoor track. Earbuds in, he starts with some stretching, then sets off on a warm-up lap before picking up his speed. He’s groggy this morning, and three miles later, Tenya still doesn’t feel any more awake. He switches to the rowing machine for the last twenty minutes before he needs to get in the shower, but even when he’s pouring sweat, he never gets that rush of endorphins he’s looking for. He just feels tired.

After a brisk shower, Tenya towel dries his hair as best he can and gets changed into his work clothes. Midoriya is waiting on a bench near the entrance, and they walk to the cafe a few doors down where Tenya buys coffee, as promised, and croissants, as a bonus. But when it comes to comforting his friend, Tenya has no idea what to say.

It’s not at all that he doesn’t care. While Midoriya slowly opens up, lamenting his feelings for Uraraka and his regrets about not confessing to her sooner, Tenya listens and empathizes as best he can. It’s clear from his tearfulness that Midoriya needs to get his feelings off his chest, but Tenya can’t come up with any legitimate condolences beyond, “I see,” and, “I’m sorry.”

“I really love her, I’m sure of it,” says Midoriya. “But maybe deep down, the reason I waited so long was because I could tell she didn’t feel the same. I’ve just been putting off the inevitable.” With a sigh, he slowly seems to come to grips with his situation—that it’s been a long time coming. Tenya is glad he could help, but at the same time, seeing his best friend like this confirms that he’s doing the right thing by staying single right now.

Dating someone—even pining after someone—is too stressful for the state of mind he’s been stuck in. There’s too much to worry about when someone else is thrown in the mix. He can barely deal with himself right now. He doesn’t envy Shouto either—he’s in a long-term, committed relationship, and he’s still stressed out by it. So that settles it. Tenya will get out of this slump he’s in by going on the same way he has for the past two years: on his own.

–

The work day is a long one. Because of Toshinori’s absence at the end of the week, Tenya steps up to take some work off of Sasaki’s plate, including fixing some reports littered with egregious mistakes that are painstaking to find and correct. It’s a great chance to show off his work ethic in light of the promotion, but that doesn’t make it any less taxing on his already frazzled mind. By 4:30, he’s running on fumes, but then you arrive at his desk.

“Hey, Iida. Do you have plans tonight?” There’s a glint in your eye—this is more than small talk.

Tenya hesitates, but answers, “Not really. Why?” Maybe you just need a ride home, he thinks. Or maybe you want him to take a look at some marketing materials you’re working on. It’s happened before. He hopes it’s the former, but he’s wrong on both counts.

You rock back and forth on your feet, hands clasped casually behind your back. “Oh good. Then you can come to happy hour with us.”

Tenya adjusts his glasses, as if that would help ensure he heard you correctly. “On a Tuesday?” He draws the words out slowly before realizing that he sounds incredibly judgmental. “I don’t usually drink during the week,” he clarifies.

That makes you smile. “Somehow, I thought you might say that.” 

You stroll into his cubicle and lean on his desk. It’s the same way you were bent over the reception desk the day before, hips pushed back and elbows tucked into your sides. He’s sitting beside you, but he can imagine the way your skirt is riding up your legs. He wonders if you do this on purpose, if you want people to look, or if it’s completely subconscious. He clears his throat, ashamed of himself for thinking of you that way. It’s not only rude, but completely inappropriate for a coworker.

“We can tell you’re stressed about the promotion. Just come with us to the bar and put it out of your mind for a bit.” Tenya can hear the fibers of your pantyhose humming as you rub one leg against the other. It’s a sound he’s never registered before—well, not when it wasn’t his own rough hands dragging against someone else’s lace-covered thigh.

Tenya takes a sip from his water bottle to clear his husky throat before he replies. “Who is ‘we’?”

Fortunately, you stand up straight again, and he can get his head back on straight. “Me, Denki, Jirou, Shinsou. Todoroki says he’s gonna pick Sero up on the way. A few others might stop by for a while.”

Tenya rubs his temples. Though it’s not usually in his nature, he can’t deny that a drink sounds good after the day he’s had. And what could one or two Long Island iced teas hurt?

“All right. I’ll join you for a little while. I probably won’t stay too late though.” He means it when he says it. But after seeing you smile back at him, after splitting a cab and squeezing into a corner booth at the bar, after seeing Denki flirt with both Jirou and Shinsou, after watching Shouto kiss his fiance over and over again, after another cocktail, and another, and another—suddenly it’s eleven PM and Tenya doesn’t want to go home if he’s going to be all alone.

So because he can’t stand to watch the couples anymore, he turns his attention to you. You’ve taken off the little cap-sleeve jacket you were wearing at the office, baring your shoulders along with a neckline that’s just a little too low to be work-appropriate in the first place. When you lean forward over the table to take a sip from your straw or laugh at some ridiculous joke Denki made, your breasts are pushed up and together—a sight that makes Tenya’s mouth water. Your face warms with every half-price drink you order, your hair falling out of place, your smile a little looser as the night wears on.

He’s thought about you before. Of course he has. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re quick, witty, and unbelievably kind to others. Tenya rarely hears you talk about yourself. You always seem more interested in everybody else’s ideas, their successes, even their struggles. He’s fairly certain it was all your idea to get a group together to go out tonight—probably entirely for his own benefit. But surely you’d do the same for anybody. 

So what’s he thinking? While everyone else is talking and laughing and having a good time, why is he bothering to stare at you like he’s going to do anything about it? He’s known for months, maybe even years, that he doesn’t want to get involved with anybody. But fuck, what he really wants right now is a dark corner and a warm body. And if it should be anybody, his buzzed brain reasons, why not you—someone he actually likes?

No, he corrects himself. Dating is messy. Casual sex is messier. He doesn’t want that, and he needs to remember it. If he’s so damn horny, he can take care of himself after he gets a ride home, and that’s the end of it.

Minutes pass in a haze as he finishes another drink. Shouto bumps his shoulder every time he moves to put his arm around Hanta before he’s peeled away again, so Tenya stands up. He rolls his shoulders, the vinyl booth doing nothing to support his back that’s still a little sore from the rowing machine. He cracks his neck to one side and then the other, and when he looks up again, he finds you with your eyes locked on him.

Blinking hard, Tenya watches as you literally climb up onto your seat and then over the goddamn table to get to him while the others scream and laugh. He reaches a hand out as your ankle wobbles in your high heel, catching you when you stumble into his chest on your way back down to the floor. You laugh, and it makes him laugh.

“You wanna go help me get a round of shots?” you ask, words not exactly slurring but definitely starting to meld. He agrees, and through no will of his own, his palm creeps to your lower back as he follows you toward the bar.

You turn a corner, putting a wall between the two of you and your friends at the table. Tenya actually runs into you, but it’s because you stop walking to spin into him, bracing yourself on his chest and shoulders again. “I saw you looking at me,” you admit point-blank.

“I’m sorry.” The thought doesn’t occur to him to deny it. The way you’re leaning your weight into him presses your chest against him, and if he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard pretty quickly.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Means I’ve been looking at you too.” Your hands climb his tie up to his throat. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Heat rushes over him, and he takes you by the waist, pulling you closer. “I want to do far more than just kiss you right now.” He’s hardly gotten the words out before you wrap your arms around his neck and capture his lips with your own. 

He should stop you, the rational part of Tenya thinks, as he kisses you back. But he doesn’t want to stop. Kissing you lights up parts of his brain that have gone dark for months, maybe longer. Sweet dopamine bursts through the walls he’s built up inside, rushing to his head the same way a runner’s high used to. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t help but want more.

His hands search for the perfect spot to hold you, sliding over your hips to cup your ass and press you tight against him. You push forward until he staggers, his back hitting the wall. You kiss until you’re breathless, stealing the air from his lungs, and then you insist, “Take me in the bathroom.”

He may not have dated in a while, but Tenya’s not a fool. He knows what moving to a secondary location means. Any of your coworkers could walk around the corner and catch you in the act right now. If you want to go further, you should find some privacy. With all the adrenaline driving him right now, he’s not going to deny you.

Tenya breaks from your lips to wrap his arm around your back. Ignoring a dirty look from the bartender, who must realize what’s about to happen, he leads you quickly down the hallway where the bathrooms are. He doesn’t even pay attention to which one he follows you into. As soon as the door is locked behind you, he pins you against it.

One hand holds your shoulder while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you again. Your lips are warm as you let his tongue slide past them, so soft but so firm. Tenya hasn’t kissed anyone in years, but he didn’t realize how much he missed it.

“Mmm, Tenya.” You hum into his mouth as your hand slides down his thigh, straying to his bulging crotch with a shiver. Your hands are so much smaller than his, but they feel so much better than his own ever could as you rub against his erection. You sigh as he kisses you harder, deeper. Do you even realize how wild you’re making him? How hard?

Tenya releases his grip to fumble with his belt. “Do you want to—”

“Yeah, I want you.” You don’t even let him finish, don’t even give him a second to get his zipper down before you do it yourself. Your fingers are shaking, but you moan in pleasure when your fingers dip under his waistband and pull out his cock. His breath hitches on a groan—everything is moving so quickly, but he doesn’t want it to end. You don’t waste any time—you just spit in your hand and spread it down his shaft with tight, even strokes. 

Something inside Tenya snaps. He forgot he could feel this good, completely forgot how satisfying sex can be when he really, really wants it—when he has someone to lose himself in. Fuck his conscience, and fuck his fears about getting in over his head. He lets his hips buck into your hold as his carnality takes over.

“Fuck,” he moans low, letting his forehead fall against the wall behind you. 

You laugh coyly. “Feel good?”

“Yes, God, yes.” This time, Tenya takes your face in both hands, stealing ravenous kisses as you wring the head of his cock in your fist. When he can’t wait any longer, he turns your head to the side and sucks a mark into the crook of your neck.

“You want me?” he asks again.

“Please.”

“I love the way you beg,” he growls. “Take your panties off.”

You do as you’re told, body shivering with delight as you peel a pair of light purple underwear down your legs before shoving them in his left pants pocket.

“You’re dirty,” he taunts.

“So are you,” you mewl, eyes traveling down to where he wraps his own hand around his cock, spreading precum over the head with his thumb.

“I think you like it.”

With his clean hand, Tenya hikes your tight little skirt up. With the wet one, he reaches between your legs as you spread them. You lean back against the wall to push your hips out, gasping when he grazes your clit before scissoring through your folds. He spends a few blissful minutes fingering you, swirling around your hole and then dipping inside with two fingers to make sure you’re slick enough to take him. He waits until you’re moaning brazenly, fingers scraping against the tile wall behind you, before he pulls them back out.

You collapse into him as he bends to grab under your thighs, lifts you, and wedges you between himself and the wall. His back and triceps are sore, but it’s nothing he can’t handle, especially not when you’re panting into his neck and begging, “Please, fuck me, fuck me, Tenya.”

He frees one hand to help line himself up, and it’s not the most graceful thing he’s ever done, but when you clench and whine as he pops the head of his cock inside you, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. How could he forget how good this feels? How could he have denied himself for so long when your dripping pussy squeezing around him makes him forget everything but you?

Even with how slick you are, it takes him a few thrusts to bottom out while you claw at his back, whimpering. Clinging to him, you grind your hips down and clench.

Tenya swears, thrusting his hips for more friction. He fucks you like an animal, head empty except for how tight and hot you are inside and how badly he wants to cum. He’s sweating like mad, hair sticking to his forehead and his glasses fogging up, but he continues to chase after his peak, using you like he would a toy while you moan in his ear.

“Tenya, please.” You start to unwrap one arm from his neck, but when your weight shifts against the wall, you put it back.

“I got you,” he promises.

He holds you tight against the wall as you reach down to play with your clit. You clench harder around him until you cry out, and he grinds against the pulsing of your orgasm until it pulls him over the edge with you.

As he comes down, the tension in his screaming muscles releases. He leans into you, pinning your weight to the cool, tile wall. Spend leaks down your ass and thighs, wetting the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care. Tenya hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

In a haze, Tenya helps you down to your feet. He tries to help you clean up at the sink, but he’s not sure he really does anything helpful. All he knows is that every few minutes, he hears you sigh and giggle. When you’re both tucked back into your clothes, you each order your own cab, and you sneak out the back door to meet them. He makes sure you’re in your car safely before he gets into his.

When he falls into bed, Tenya has the most peaceful night of sleep he’s had in months.

–

When Tenya wakes up, his mouth is dry, his head is throbbing, and he can’t remember when or how he got home. He’s still fully dressed, down to his glasses and even his shoes, which is disgusting. He’ll have to wash the sheets as soon as he gets home tonight.

As his consciousness fades in alongside his pounding headache, Tenya tosses his glasses on the nightstand and rubs his palms over his face. He drank way too much last night, obviously. There’s no way his aching body can go for a run this morning—it’ll be challenging enough just to get himself to work. He sits up in bed, cracks his back, then feels something bunched in his pocket.

When he pulls out your lavender panties, he flops back down onto his pillow like he’s been shot dead.

Everything that happened rushes back to him at once—you climbing over the table, him pinning you against the wall. Between short waves of nausea, Tenya berates himself. That was a stupid, stupid thing to do, and he knows he’s going to pay for it.

Tenya has been in relationships, however short they might have been. He knows, generally, how to navigate those. He’s also had one night stands before. He can handle those too, always with grace and respect. What makes this time different is the fact that he hadn’t planned to sleep with you, had never partaken in sex so casually. Every time before, whether he was in a relationship or not, he had known sex was on the table, so to speak.

This is entirely new territory, and it rattles him.

To make matters worse, every time he pictures the way you looked or remembers a sound that you made, heat rises in his chest. You’d felt amazing, made him feel amazing, and now he’s not sure he’ll be able to forget it.

Tenya drags himself out of bed, groaning unintentionally at the tightness in his quads and lower back, and chugs two glasses of water while frying himself some eggs and potatoes. He knows if he doesn’t get some food in him, he’ll never make it through the day at work, and he doesn’t want to look bad in front of Sasaki, especially not now.

He surely hasn’t been himself lately, he thinks, dousing his eggs in hot sauce, but Tenya never thought he could do something so foolish. You’d both been consenting but under the influence, so where does that leave you? Fuck, he hadn’t even used a condom.

You hadn’t asked him to, and with how long it’s been since he slept with anyone else, he’s not at risk of giving you any diseases, but that doesn’t make it ok. As much as he dreads having to ask if you’re clean, he should probably also find out if you’re on some kind of birth control. He can feel the acid in his stomach burning just thinking about it, but he needs to face the consequences of his actions. Whatever you want to do about it, he’s fine with that.

When he finds his phone buried in his bedsheets, there’s a text from you.

If you want to talk about last night, you know where to find me. But I'm ok, and if you want to pretend it never happened, I understand.

He sighs and shoves his phone into his pocket. It’s selfless of you to offer to do that, but although it would probably be the easier way out, Tenya wouldn’t do that to you. Having sex with you hadn’t meant nothing—you didn’t mean nothing to him. He needs to face you and come clean. You deserve that.

Since his car is still at the office, Tenya has to call another cab to take him to work. After the commute that reignites his headache, Tenya gulps down a bottle of water from the vending machine and pulls himself together. All he wants is to sit down, but there’s only one way to his cubicle, and it’s past the front desk.

Kaminari’s chin is perched in his hands, a crooked smirk on his face. “Hey buddy, where’d you go last night?”

That’s right. The two of you left without saying goodbye or settling your tabs. He’ll have to go back to the bar to get his credit card. Somehow, after all the water he’s had this morning, Tenya’s mouth is still dry when he opens it to speak. He croaks, “I’m sorry, I was not in my right mind last night. I called a taxi without even thinking.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. 

You and Kaminari are close, but Tenya has no clue if this is something you would tell him. Apparently not, though, because he replies, “Did you go home with that bartender? I swear she had her eyes on you all night.” Unless Kaminari has a remarkable poker face, he doesn’t know anything.

Tenya starts to shake his head, but that hurts his eyes, so he just lifts a hand. “Nothing like that. Just wanted to get home and rest.”

Kaminari cackles. Maybe he’s one of those people that doesn’t get hangovers. Lucky. “All right, whatever you say, big guy. Hey, Todoroki has your watch. You took it off at the table for some reason.”

So he’ll have to make sure to catch up with Shouto at some point today and get it back. Thankfully, Shouto isn’t the type to ask questions, and he was preoccupied all night anyway. 

For most of the day, Tenya stays holed up at his desk. After a few cups of coffee and a lunch he ordered in (Kaminari is kind enough to bring it to his cubicle for him), Tenya’s hangover starts to fade, but he can’t shake the anxious feeling sitting in his gut all day. Shouto drops by with his watch but doesn’t stick around to chat, which is perfectly fine. Tenya doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, and he doesn’t want to chance running into you before he’s prepared himself, so he keeps to his spreadsheets and tries to make up for his slow morning.

Any time he gives himself a minute to think, Tenya’s mind wanders back to that dimly-lit restroom. He can’t help but wonder how something that felt so good in the moment can feel so horrible in hindsight. Not only is he ashamed, but he’s also embarrassed. He can only hope he hasn’t ruined his rapport—his friendship—with you.

Around 4:30, Tenya realizes he has about 50 unread IMs. He leaves his notification sounds off because he’s been told that they annoy people, so he hadn’t noticed all the messages coming in while he worked. Worried that something has gone terribly wrong, he opens his inbox in a panic.

What he finds is a barrage of images uploaded to a group chat by Kaminari, who declares that it is officially “meme-o’clock.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been bored enough to enact such an activity, and Tenya’s sure it won’t be the last.

While Kaminari has posted most of the memes, Shouto and Jirou have also contributed several deep-fried jpegs of their own. Shinsou chimes in with a single cat picture, but you’re noticeably absent until Tenya hovers over the emoji reactions. You’ve left several cry-laughing faces under the images, but they ring hollow. Normally, you’d be sending pictures to the chat too. Tenya starts to wonder if you’re really ok, like you’d said in your text.

Worry replacing awkwardness, Tenya picks up his phone and finally texts you back.

Do you want to meet me in the parking garage after work? I need to go back to the bar and get my card.

A few minutes later, you respond.

Sure, I need to do that too. Thanks, Iida.

After gathering up his stuff, Tenya finds you waiting by his car—leaning against it, legs crossed demurely at the ankles. You’re wearing a knee-length dress with a frilly collar that he would find adorable if he wasn’t so damn nervous. When you hear him coming toward you, you smile, and for some reason, that breaks his heart.

“Hey.”

Tenya takes a deep breath. “Hey. Do you still want to ride with me?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes a bit. “‘Course. That’s why I’m here.” 

Tenya unlocks the car and ushers you into the passenger’s seat, waiting to close the door for you before walking around to climb in. He rolls his neck a little, feeling tension building between his shoulders, as he pulls out of the parking garage and heads toward the bar.

He doesn’t bother to connect his phone to Bluetooth or turn on the radio. It’s already too loud and chaotic inside his head, even though he can’t get himself to say anything. But then he hears you humming a little tune to yourself, and his stomach turns. He can’t put you through this any longer.

Tenya clears his throat. “Can we—” he hesitates, “talk about last night?”

You stop humming, folding your hands in your lap. “Yeah, of course. And, listen, I’m sorry if—”

“Please, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” Tenya is careful to keep his eyes on the road, even as you’re nearing the city parking lot near the bar. Politely, even after he cut you off, you give him the space to speak.

“It’s no excuse, but I think you can tell I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve been stressed, and I was drunk, and I took advantage of you. I’m incredibly sorry.”

You practically dive over the center console to touch his arm, an action that shouldn’t make the back of Tenya’s neck prickle, but it does. “No, no. I promise you didn’t take advantage of me. If I had wanted to leave, I would have left.”

Tenya clears his throat, your sincerity and the warmth of your touch surprising him before, strangely, he feels some of his anxiety begin to melt away. “Ok. If you say so.” He doesn’t think about it, but while he waits to make a left turn into the parking lot, his hand floats up to brush over yours until he finds a parking spot to pull into.

He shuts off the car, but Tenya knows this isn’t over with yet. “I still need to apologize for not using protection. Do you need—”

“Oh, no. I’m on birth control, so I’m not really worried about that.”

Relieved, Tenya exhales harder than he means to. 

Your nervous laugh puts him a little more at ease. “Thanks for asking, though. I also got myself tested after my last partner, so I’m clean and everything…”

Tenya can feel his face burning, but he reminds himself that it’s healthy and mature to talk to his partners about such things. Still, he rubs his eyes under his glasses, exhausted by all his worries. “Thank you. I am as well, though it’s been a long time since my last partner.”

“...Really?”

“I—yes?” He didn’t expect you to ask questions. Then you ask another.

“How long?”

Tenya hasn’t really thought about the actual number recently. He counts backwards, and it surprises him. “Two years, maybe two and a half?” He can’t remember exactly what month it was, but he’s pretty sure it was wintertime.

You fall back in your seat with a little snort. Tenya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

There’s that laugh of yours again. “Well, no wonder you’re so stressed.”

“It’s not…I’m just—” Tenya huffs, unable to complete a coherent thought. He hadn’t looked at it this way, but now that you bring it up, his fist has been a sorry comparison to another person for some time now. He’s just been willing to accept that.

Coyly, you bite your lip. “Can I ask…did you enjoy it, at least?”

“God, yes.” Tenya chuckles along with you at his own bluntness, running his hand through his hair as he looks out the windshield.

“Ok, good. Because I did too. You were so hot, Iida.”

Memories of the sights, the sounds, the sensations of your hookup come back to him in flashes, so vivid he can’t look at you. “I have to be honest with you. I don’t typically have one-night stands, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

Tenya’s heart halts, bracing for an impact that never comes, like when he thinks there’s one more step on the staircase. He expects you to be upset—sad, or angry, even—but your voice is soft instead. 

“Well, listen. It’s ok if it’s not your thing. But since we both liked it, we could do it again sometime. Casually, I mean. No strings attached.”

Oh.

“So, you mean like friends with benefits?” This was an option Tenya had never even considered. Historically, casual sex is not his thing, but maybe you’re onto something.

“Yeah. Just sex. Because—and I swear—last night was one of the best hookups I’ve ever had. Like, probably top three fucks ever.”

That makes Tenya laugh out loud. It’s not that he thought he was bad at sex, quite the opposite actually. But he wouldn’t have said it that way, and coming from you…

“I’m serious, Iida,” you say after a giggle. “It was great. And I trust you. So if you want to keep having sex, especially if it helps you manage all that stress you’re under, I’m down.”

“I—”

He’s tempted to say no, to go back to just being friends and coworkers, but when he opens his mouth again, he finds he doesn’t want to. It’s one of the crazier things he’s ever done, but…

“I trust you too. But maybe we can start on some kind of trial basis. This is very new to me.”

You smile and knock him on the shoulder like this is the most normal conversation in the world. Maybe it is.

“How about this: the next time you want to let off some steam, just let me know.”

Tenya nods, then realizes he’s been wearing his seatbelt this entire time. He clicks the release button as he pulls his keys from the ignition. He can do this—he can handle casual. Maybe he’ll even be better off for it.

“Deal.”

–

Despite your new arrangement, almost a week passes without incident. Tenya continues helping Sasaki with his audits. Together, they discover a particular issue with the resistance bands that their plant has been manufacturing. Tenya spends a full day poring over the data until he comes up with better testing standards to help ensure that faulty merchandise isn’t shipped out to customers. It’s what he would have done regardless, even if the promotion weren’t on the table. 

When Toshinori returns from his trip, looking more bronzed and sporting a splint on a broken index finger, Sasaki calls a meeting to go over Tenya’s proposal. A small group meets in the conference room—along with a few others from quality, there are reps from customer service who have been handling most of the complaints, and Monoma, the sales rep.

For a few months of the year, Monoma is largely out of the office, traveling to trade shows and visiting customers and distributors nationwide to tout the wonders of Plus Ultra equipment. And it’s not that he’s not good at his job—he brings in a lot of clients with a lot of money to spend. But for the rest of the year, Monoma spends his time, as far as Tenya can tell, making a couple phone calls per day before slacking off while everyone else is hard at work. 

Maybe he’s biased, but Tenya has never liked sales reps.

Seated around the conference table, Sasaki starts them off by explaining the manufacturing issues they ran into. The customer service lead, Kendo, explains how the complaints came in and what her team did to placate the upset customers.

Toshinori gives Kendo a big thumbs up. “Thanks for all the hard work. It really matters that we keep our customers happy, even when things like this happen.” He’s not really a detail-oriented guy—he just likes to know what’s going on.

“Of course,” Monoma pipes up, “after customer service brought this issue to our attention, we took all of the customer information and used it to pinpoint the lot number of the defective batch of bands.”

Tenya sighs from behind his laptop. Everything Monoma is saying is correct, factually. But the way he’s using ‘we’ makes it sound like he played a bigger role in that process when all he did was email Tenya a list of customer info. It was Tenya and Sasaki who dug through the data, found the lot number, and got the rest of the defective product pulled from the warehouse before it got shipped out.

With a hand placed thoughtfully on his strong chin, Toshinori listens as Monoma talks, and talks, and talks—name dropping the bigger clients that he called personally to explain the situation. With as much patience as he can muster, Tenya waits for his turn to speak with his proposal slideshow open.

“Of course, while I was hunting all these guys down—you know how they are, they’re hardly ever in the office, a little like you, Mr. Yagi—”

“Please, I insist you call me Toshinori.”

“Right, Toshinori,” Monoma shmoozes. “Well, meanwhile, we can assure you we have a plan to keep this from happening again.” He glances over at Sasaki, who is tapping away on his keyboard, no doubt still paying attention to every word like the expert multitasker he is.

Tenya opens his mouth to speak, but Monoma’s lips don’t stop moving. “We think something like this can be caught by testing the next time it happens if we tighten up tolerances a bit. For example…”

He goes on to explain, in a roundabout way, everything in Tenya’s proposal without so much as a pause for Tenya to get a word in edgewise.

Tenya knows this meeting isn’t about him, that they’re just here to catch Toshinori up to speed and get his final stamp of approval. But especially when he’s getting some of the details only partially correct, it’s frustrating to sit there and listen to Monoma speak just because he loves the sound of his own voice.

And while Tenya is sure that Monoma is just trying to show off in front of Toshinori because of the promotion, he also doesn’t want to butt in for the same reason. At this point, it’ll just make Tenya look like he’s trying to spotlight himself. He’ll just have to keep his mouth shut, knowing that Sasaki is aware that the proposal was really all Tenya’s idea.

Sasaki, Tenya thinks almost bitterly, who is just sitting there, letting Monoma talk over him.

It’s fine, Tenya tells himself. It’s fine, and it doesn’t really matter. And he could have maybe left the meeting believing that if Monoma didn’t look him directly in the face when he asks, “Any questions?”

That bastard. That bitch. He wouldn’t normally be so vulgar, even inside his own head, but fuck, this time he’s really pissed. For as long as he’s worked here, Monoma has always been like this—stepping on toes just because he can, and unbelievably smug about it. And Tenya is officially getting sick of it.

Tenya glares back. “No,” he replies in a calculated tone. “No, I don’t think I have anything to add right now.”

If Sasaki notices his ire, he doesn’t do anything about it. Toshinori, on the other hand, appears blissfully unaware, just happy that the problem was solved even in his absence.

When the meeting ends, Tenya is the first one out of the room, his laptop folded closed under his arm. Vaguely, he hears Monoma calling for him, asking if he wants to join everyone for lunch, but he doesn’t stop until he gets to his cubicle. Nobody follows him.

For a while, Tenya just sits there, seething. He gets his lunch out of his mini-fridge, but he’s too annoyed to eat much of it. Instead, he stares daggers down into his salad, stabbing each bite he takes a little too forcefully. He tries to let it go, to forget what just happened because regardless, this should fix the manufacturing problem. That’s what matters. But Monoma’s words keep replaying on an infuriating loop in his head.

So screw that. He wants to go home. No, actually—he wants his blood pumping and his muscles straining and sweat pouring down his back until his mind finally shuts off and the frustration melts away. But he wasn’t planning on going to the gym tonight, so he doesn’t have clothes to change into for a run right now.

Tenya huffs and drops his fork on his desk. He remembers what you said in the car—to let you know the next time he’s stressed out. So he shuts his laptop and shoves his half-eaten salad back in the fridge.

Heads turn when Tenya strides into the marketing department. He doesn’t spend much time in this part of the office. Your work doesn’t overlap with his often. But he doesn’t want to leave any kind of paper trail, so instead of sending you a message, he walks straight up to your desk. 

You’re flipping through files in a folder before you look up to greet him. “Hey, Iida.”

After glancing over his shoulder, he drops a heavy hand on your desk and leans down to speak into your ear, his jaw set tight. “My car. Now.”

You spin in your swivel chair to face him, eyes narrowing when you meet his gaze. Tenya raises an eyebrow, asking if you understand. Slowly, you uncross your legs, and it takes all the restraint he has not to bite a hole through his lower lip.

“Go first. I’ll meet you.”

He nods, then makes a beeline for the parking garage.

His mind races. Is this how he was supposed to go about it? For about half a minute, while he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to appear, he almost loses his nerve and calls the whole thing off. But goddamnit, he’s pissed, and he wants to forget, just for a few minutes until he can relax. And you look so good today, so soft to the touch in your flowy little blouse.

Now’s not the time to overthink it. He said he wanted a trial run, and here’s his chance.

You arrive with your purse thrown over your shoulder, heels clacking on the concrete floor until you slide into the seat next to him. Once your bag is placed by your feet, you ask, “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Tenya loosens his tie. “Not really.”

“That’s ok. We can just have fun, then.”

You kick your shoes off and push the center armrest back. Tenya plants his feet on the floor, and you crawl into his lap, letting your skirt ride high up on your legs. Impatiently, craving the piece of heaven he found the last time he was with you, Tenya wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him for a kiss.

As your mouths move together, Tenya is keenly aware that you’re still, for all intents and purposes, in public. His parking spot is along the outside wall of the parking garage, one level up from the walkway that leads inside the business complex, which should minimize the amount of foot traffic that might pass. Still, the possibility that someone could walk by isn’t exactly remote. But like at the bar, Tenya is surprised to find that he’s not completely opposed to the idea—to the thrilling fantasy that you could be caught.

At least you’re not still inside the office, he rationalizes. How much real trouble could you actually get into? Office relationships aren’t forbidden. And there are worse ways to spend your lunch break—hacking accounts, stealing tape from the supply closet. Fooling around in the car isn’t hurting anyone. In fact, it actually decreases the likelihood of him personally strangling Monoma. From a certain point of view, this is actually the safer choice.

Tenya forgets all his justifications the moment you bury your hand in his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp before you pull at the longer part of his undercut. It forces him to tilt his chin up as you push deeper into the kiss. And when your mouth breaks from his and drags down to his jaw, teasing against his ear, he forgets everything except for you.

Your kisses are light against the side of his throat, careful as though not to leave a mark. They’re slow and wet, your tongue peeking out to taste him with each kiss. When you take his earlobe between your teeth, he can’t help but moan, fingers curling into your waist.

“Fuck, you sound so hot when you do that.” Your lower back arches, your knee knocking against the door as you spread yourself lower, wider over his lap. It drives him crazy, the way you move so easily with him, your body slotting into all the places he needs you most.

Tenya wants to rip your blouse open, but he restrains himself, knowing you’ll still need to wear it back inside. He fumbles with the first few buttons, trying to get it off you, before you realize he needs help. Together, you undo them all, revealing the lacy white bra you’re wearing underneath.

With all his caution thrown to the wind, Tenya palms one of your breasts, pressing it up against his mouth as he kisses your cleavage. You hum for him, reaching behind you to brace yourself against his knee with your other arm slung over his shoulder.

Your breasts feel amazing. He didn’t really get to play with them last time—he was too busy holding you up against the wall. Now, he can knead them with both hands, lifting them up and pressing his thumbs between them until they pop out of the cups of your bra.

Your gasp is delectable when he takes one nipple into his mouth, groaning as he sucks around it. He opens his mouth wider, desperate to take more, tongue lapping at the bud. He can’t get enough.

Meanwhile, he tenderly squeezes your other breast, obsessed with the way it squishes like he’s pressing into soft dough. He looks up at you over his glasses, watching your brows knit together as he drinks you in. Then he does the same to your other breast, giving them equal attention.

Tenya can feel your pulse quickening through your sternum, syllables of his name falling from your lips along with panting breaths. You sound so good, he loves hearing you. “Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, unbuttoning his vest and then starting on his dress shirt.

Your hand drifts down to touch his exposed chest.

“You, I want you.” Your hips grind down against his straining erection as you whine for him. 

Tenya sucks air through his teeth, grabbing for his wallet in the cupholder and pulling out the condom he’s had tucked inside for a few days. He holds the corner of the packet between his teeth while he pulls his cock out of the dark blue slacks he pushes down to his knees. You moan when you see it, giving him a flash of pride before you take the condom and roll it on for him.

“You’re so big.” He’s known that for a long time—that his size is impressive to most—but he loves hearing it, the way it tumbles from your lips like you can’t believe it’s all for you.

He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before pushing your panties to the side and rubbing them over your cunt. Your head falls back, breasts bouncing while he plays with your hole, spreading spit and slick around it.

With both hands on his shoulders, you position yourself above him. “Fuck, fuck me.”

If you keep begging like that, he’s going to lose his damn mind.

Tenya holds his cock steady at the base while you sink down onto him with a gorgeous whine. He watches himself enter you, watches as you take his thick cock like you’re made for it. The ridge of the condom catches the slick that leaks out of you, leaving a creamy ring behind when you start to bounce up and down on your knees.

Tenya guides you, lifting his hips when he can to thrust with you. It feels too good—suddenly, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“God, so tight. Oh my god.” You clench when he calls your name, his voice strangled like your hand’s around his throat. Huffing and moaning, he holds you up while you ride him with impressive stamina.

Sweat beads on your forehead and your chest, collecting in the notch of your throat. You’re persistent, your movements actually speeding up while your walls cling to his cock with every thrust. You’re like an animal, blindly chasing your own pleasure while still giving him so much.

He can tell when you finish by the way you gasp and squeal, writhing like you’re trying to stay sunk down on top of him while you pulse. Watching your body tremor pulls Tenya over the edge with you, his hips lifting as he climaxes before falling back onto the headrest. You fold over against his chest, just trying to catch your breath as you come down.

The driver’s side window is foggy, your naked upper body slippery against him. He’s still inside you, your face buried in his neck. You rest the weight of your tired body against him fully, even as he sits up to start up the air conditioning so you can both cool down. Once the sheen of sweat between you is mostly dry, Tenya reclines his seat all the way back and helps you climb out of his lap.

Last time, all you needed to do was get yourselves together enough to sneak out of the bar and get home. Now, Tenya realizes, he has to walk back into the office as if he didn’t just fuck you in his car. Granted, the condom was a good idea—it takes care of a large percentage of the mess you made, but he’s still sweaty and disheveled after disposing of it wrapped in a wad of napkins from the glove compartment.

You give each other a good once-over outside the car, making sure all buttons are done up right and everything’s tucked back where it’s supposed to be. He lets you fix his hair for him, shaking out his bangs with your fingers before fixing them back in place across his forehead. He intends to walk you back inside, but you stop him just outside the glass walkway with a glance over your shoulder.

“Give me a little head start,” you tease. Your giggle is equal parts adorable and sensual as you strut away.

Tenya stares after you, your legs, your tight skirt, until you disappear through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

He can give you a head start. He’d give you just about anything you want at this point.

–

From that day on, hooking up with you becomes more and more frequent. Tenya tries not to wear out his welcome too quickly, but the more he has sex with you, the more he craves it. Once per week quickly becomes three or four times, sometimes in the car, sometimes in whatever empty room or closet you can find when the opportunity arises. You let him do so many different things to you, content to let him take the lead and call the shots.

It’s almost Pavlovian, the way he finds himself set on the path from his desk to yours after a stressful meeting or phone call—even just too many hours looking at spreadsheets can make him itch for you. 

As much as he loves your legs wrapped around his waist while he plunges inside you, Tenya learns he has much more of an oral fixation than he ever realized. When he’s frustrated, he needs his mouth on you. He’ll eat you out or suck at your breasts while you bounce in his lap, and before he knows it, he’s forgotten whatever it was that was causing so much tension in the first place, soothed by the weight of you on his tongue.

There aren’t many rules in your arrangement, but after the third or fourth time you turn down Tenya’s offers to cook you dinner, you set an important one.

“I really appreciate the thought, but in the interest of keeping this casual, let’s not hook up at your house or mine.”

“It’s just dinner,” Tenya reasons. “I would never expect you to sleep with me in return. We wouldn’t have to.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I know myself, and it would be hard for me to be in your house with you, alone at night, and not want to have sex with you.”

“I…” Tenya rubs at the back of his undercut. He should probably get it trimmed soon. “I’m not pressuring you, but why—”

“Because if I start waking up in your bed, it’s only a matter of time before one of us catches feelings. And you said you didn’t want that, right?”

Tenya hesitates for half a beat, but, “Yes, you’re right.”

“So no sleepovers. But thank you again for offering, Tenya.”

“Of course.”

The other rules remain largely unspoken. You always wait for him to initiate, and at first, this concerned him. If you weren’t interested in doing this—if you’d changed your mind—he needed to know, and he told you as much. He’d been surprised at the heat that pooled in his stomach when you laughed and replied, sincerely, that you liked it that way. That you liked when he took you, ravished you. That it turned you on to be used that way. It was as much for you as it was for him.

Tenya would never forget the salacious grin on your painted lips when you told him so. It made you that much more attractive, this insane sex drive you seemed to have. A few weeks ago, he never would have thought that you were so insatiable. How wrong he’d been.

As time goes on, however, you start finding ways to tease him, daring him to make the first move.

It’s been nearly two months when Tenya notices you dressing differently. Your skirts get tighter, and you never swap them out for dress pants, even when September begins to cool off the sweltering summer heat. You almost always opt for blouses with buttons or in fabrics that stretch—the easier to take off and put on, the better.

You also start to have a little more fun with your accessories, including your underwear. Every once in a while, Tenya will mumble a little comment about them—”these new?” or “haven’t seen this one before”—and he can tell by your smile that you love it.

One afternoon, Sasaki calls a meeting about a new product launch, and Tenya finds himself seated next to you at the conference table. With close to a dozen people in the room, it’s easy to watch you, unnoticed, even when he should be focusing on the presentation. Instead, Tenya’s eyes drift up and down your legs, counting the beats as you bounce one knee over the other.

You push your chair back from the table, hands crossed in your lap as you appear to listen about the wonders of kettlebell gloves. Maybe you are listening—you’re a decent multitasker—but Tenya is positive you know what you’re doing to him when you slide one foot out of your little black pumps. By curling your toes, you tap your shoe against your heel, and it should not be sexy, should not be turning Tenya on, but it does. Your bare ankle looks so delicate as your shoe dangles from your toe, reminding him of how quickly you could be undressed.

The meeting can’t end soon enough.

As soon as he can get you alone, Tenya is crowding you against the copier. He runs his hands over your hips, riding over your curves. “Have you always dressed like this for attention? Or is it just for me?”

You push your ass back against him. “What’s gotten into you?” you giggle, acting as if you don’t know.

“Supply closet?” he asks in response. If it were anyone else, he’d be self conscious about being too direct. But it’s you, and he’s learning not to think twice.

It’s nearly 4pm—some people have even gone home by this point. There’s no one around to see you dragging him by the tie into the closet and shutting the door behind you.

Tenya drops to his knees, kissing your thighs as you turn on the overhead light. His nose teases at the hem of your skirt, pushing it up as his hands slide up the backs of your legs. “Someone might see the light under the door,” he mumbles, almost whispering.

You hum appreciatively. “I think you’re going to wanna see these.”

“See what?”

Leaning back against the built in shelf, you push your hips forward. “Keep going.”

Clammy palms push your skirt up over your hips. Tenya continues his ascent up your inner thigh, pushing your legs further apart to make room. He finds his surprise at the apex.

Your red lace panties have no crotch. Instead, draped over the middle, is a string of faux pearls. They’re beautiful, nestled against your folds, and they’re already wet.

As he stares in awe, Tenya stupidly comments, “Those can’t be comfortable to sit around in.”

You stifle a laugh. “They’re not as bad as you’d think.” You lift one foot out of your shoe and place it on his shoulder, lewdly spreading yourself for him. “Wanna taste ‘em?”

Tenya turns his head, kissing the ball of your ankle before pulling your leg down over his shoulder. “Dying to.”

His mouth slots between your thighs—trembling, if he’s not mistaken—with a warm sigh of relief. After leaving wet kisses over your clothed clit, Tenya tilts his head back and lets his tongue jut out, licking a stripe over the pearls. The little beads taste like plastic and you, like treasures for him to find and retrieve, soaked in your essence. He works at them with his tongue, playing with them until he loses his grip and then starts all over again, slurping you up as he goes.

Your hips buck when he hits a sensitive spot, when he pushes the pearls deeper into your folds with his tongue. He feels you twitch when he nudges one almost inside your hole before sucking as much of you into his mouth at once as he can. You hum on a moan, trying to keep quiet, fingers twisted tight in his hair.

Tenya comes up panting, his face covered in you. “Do you want to come like this?”

With your back pressed up against a shelf of printer paper, you bite your lip hard and nod yes.

Tenya pulls you down firmly on his shoulder, getting you right where he wants you, before pushing two fingers up inside your panties to tweak at your clit. He rolls the little bud between his thumb and forefinger, licking against your slit where the pearls are held taut until he hears you squeak and feels the little gush against his face.

While you shiver in the aftershocks, Tenya licks his lips then wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Carefully, he pulls you off his shoulder and stands up, undoing his belt on the way. His heartbeat pounds in his throat while he struggles with the condom. Once it’s on, he slips inside you, one of your thighs held to his hip, the string of pearls brushing his cock with every thrust until he comes undone.

Then, like every time, you clean yourselves up and walk away like nothing ever happened, and Tenya’s heart breaks a little more.

-

After months of wallowing, Midoriya finally starts to act like himself again. He joins Tenya at the gym more often and even comes jogging in the morning a few times. Some evenings, Tenya cooks dinner for both of them, knowing his friend is hopeless in the kitchen and has more or less been surviving off of Cup Noodles since mid-summer. Tenya doesn’t mind it—he likes to cook, and it’s nice to have the company a few nights per week.

Tonight, after they finish the salmon he made, he’s standing on a stool in his bedroom while Midoriya measures the inseam of his tux pants for Todoroki’s wedding. Tenya had to order his a size up to make room for his thick thighs, and he needs them tailored.

“Are you going to ask her to be your date?” Midoriya asks just as he presses his tape measure to Tenya’s crotch. He doesn’t have to clarify who he means.

“No.” Tenya focuses intently on not getting hard at the thought of you. It’s pathetic that a simple thought or mention of you is sometimes all it takes, but he cannot embarrass himself with Midoriya between his legs right now.

“I told you, it’s only casual. We’re not together, and besides, they already invited her anyway.”

Midoriya shrugs. “But you like her, don’t you?”

“I… It’s purely physical.” He hasn’t shared every dirty detail with Midoriya, but since he’s never met you, Tenya felt safe telling him about your arrangement.

“So how are you going to feel if she shows up with somebody else?”

“She’s not—”

Midoriya grabs a few pins from the cushion around his wrist, holding them in his mouth while he crouches to pin Tenya’s hem. “But are you sure?”

Now that Tenya thinks about it, he’s not. Just because he hasn’t been seeing anyone else, it doesn’t mean you couldn’t be.

“All I’m saying,” Midoriya mumbles around his pins, “is that you shouldn’t wait around too long if you want something more.”

Tenya has to admit that he might have a point. Maybe he’s not cut out for casual after all, despite how good it’s been so far. He spends more time thinking about you than he cares to admit—and it’s not always sexual. He wishes he could spend more time with you outside of work too. 

Sometimes, during his morning runs, he imagines what it would be like if you were beside him. But he doesn’t even know if you like jogging.

He doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Wow, Midoriya. That really means a lot, coming from you. And you’re aware that Bakugou will more than likely be there with Uraraka?”

Midoriya snorts. “God, I hope Todoroki doesn’t seat me with them. But regardless, I’m still going stag to the wedding. I don’t even know anyone to ask. Now hold still so I can get the other leg even,” he says, reaching for his measuring tape again.

While Midoriya finishes pinning, Tenya considers all his options. He was planning on attending the wedding without a date—he figured he’d just see you, Midoriya, and everyone else from work there. He supposes he could ask you to be his date as a friend, but what would be the point?

To make sure you’re not going with someone else, he guesses.

With the wedding only a few weeks away, he’s going to need to figure out what to do about it—if anything—and soon. Maybe he can bring it up casually in conversation, but he’s not sure he has the nerve. Between finding out you’re going with someone else or asking you out himself, Tenya’s not sure which one he’s more afraid of.

-

This doesn’t count, Tenya tells himself. When Sero shows up at the end of the workday, off early from the tattoo shop, and invites everyone to join him and Todoroki for dinner, it doesn’t count as having dinner with you. There’s nothing in the rules about going out in a group together.

Careful to keep himself in check, Tenya only has two beers with his burger. It may have worked out in his favor last time, but he doesn’t plan on getting wasted this time. You seat yourself easily by his side, your arm brushing his as you finish off a cocktail with your dinner.

For the first time, Tenya really wonders if anyone else around the table can tell that there’s something else going on between the two of you. He’s usually as careful as he can be, trying not to show you any special attention. But even just sitting next to you, listening to you talk and laugh with your friends, is distracting.

Then, while you’re laughing at something Denki says, your hand falls to Tenya’s knee. It seems like you don’t even notice that you’re doing it, the gesture warm and familiar, like you’d done it a thousand times. Tenya’s neck gets hot, and he can’t think about anything but the weight of your hand on his leg.

“Iida.”

Tenya jumps when Sero calls his name, and you pull your hand away, jolted back to reality. “Hm?” He hasn’t been listening at all.

“I asked if they’ve given you that promotion yet. I wanna know when you’re gonna be Shouto’s boss so I can tease him about it.” Sero’s arm is wrapped around Todoroki’s shoulders, his signature grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Todoroki hardly reacts except to blow a strand of hair out of his face.

Tenya clears his throat. “They haven’t mentioned it in a while. Toshinori is hardly in the office, so I suspect that’s slowing down the process.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Denki leans forward so he can catch Tenya’s eye over the table. “I was sorting the mail and I heard Sasaki talking to David Shield from R&D. They were going over some financial mumbo jumbo and I heard him say they need to make some hiring decisions this month before they can approve his research budget for next year.”

This time, when you squeeze Tenya’s arm, you don’t try to hide it. You have a good reason not to. “So you’ll know this month whether you’re moving up or not. That’s exciting!”

Although he’s been fucking you for months, Tenya still blushes at your touch, especially while his friends are looking. This is what you do to him. He mutters, “Thank you. I’ll just be glad when this whole thing is over and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Your hand falls away from him as you reply. “Yeah, that makes sense.” Something in your voice changes—you sound almost disappointed, giving Tenya a pang in the heart. 

“There’s no way they’ll choose Monoma,” says Todoroki. “He’s a dickhead.”

Sero gulps down the rest of his drink, his forehead creasing with a frown. “Is this that guy who stole your yogurt out of the fridge?”

“I can’t prove it, but I think so.”

“If I ever get my hands on him…”

“You guys wanna hear something crazy?” Denki chimes in. “I put red pepper flakes in my leftover takeout to see who’s been stealing it from the fridge, and at lunch, I caught Shinsou coughing and buying a milk from the vending machine. I trusted him!”

While Denki retells the loss of his chance with Shinsou that may have opened another door with Jirou, Tenya’s attention falls back to you. You’ve gone quiet, which is strange, considering how excited you were. Did his reaction upset you? Was it not what you were looking for? He can’t quite discern what he’s done wrong, but he felt the twinge of sadness when you pulled away from him.

He lets himself look at you—really look at you—while you pointedly look away. He’s dying to get you away from this table, to somewhere you can talk, but he can’t think of an excuse. So instead, while nobody is paying attention, he reaches for the strap of your dress, which has fallen down your shoulder. He lets his knuckles trail against your arm as he pushes it back into place.

“Please,” he whispers, so only you can hear. “Come home with me.”

He doesn’t expect you to agree. He prepares himself for you to reject his invitation, like you always do. But your eyes shine when you look up at him. “Ok.”

When the bills are paid and the table is cleared, you climb into Tenya’s car. It’s dark outside, and it’s just started to rain. Music plays softly from the speakers because he knows you dread silence. Tenya nestles his hand in your lap while he drives, letting you play with his fingers to distract yourself.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No…. I don’t know.”

He’s never seen you like this, the light that usually bursts from inside of you practically extinguished. He knows he can’t take what you say at face value right now.

He doesn’t want to be pushy, but he tries a different question. “Did I do something that upset you?”

Over the pattering of the rain on the windows, he hears you sniffle, and that’s when Tenya realizes that you’re crying.

“I just need a minute to think.”

“Ok.” Tenya turns up the music a few notches, hoping it gives you the illusion of space and privacy behind the sound. That, and unless it gets any worse, he really doesn’t want to hear you cry because it breaks his heart.

You wipe your eyes, pulling yourself together as he parks in his driveway. Craning your neck, you look out the rain-streaked window. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” Tenya turns the radio down again, but leaves it softly playing an old rock ballad he’s probably heard a thousand times before. “Do you still want to come in? I’ll make you a cup of tea. Or if you’ve changed your mind, I can drive you home or call you a ride. Whatever you want.”

When you turn back to him, you’re wearing a ghost of your usual smile. “You’re too good to me, Iida. Always putting me first.”

Tenya fiddles with his tie, pulling the knot a little looser around his throat. “Of course.” It’s all he can think to say. Is it not obvious?

You unbuckle your seatbelt, his heart clenching at the sound. “A cup of tea would be lovely.”

The rain has started to pick up, so you follow him up to his stoop with your coat held over your head. As Tenya unlocks the door, he decides that if you’re not ready to talk about what’s bothering you, he’s not going to push it anymore. If you just want to be comforted and taken care of, then that’s what he’ll do. In a way, it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for him over the past few months, in more ways than you even know about.

He lets you inside, taking your coat and flipping on a light while you kick off your ankle boots, revealing a pair of brightly-colored socks with what looks like turtles on them. Normally, he’d make a comment, tell you how cute he thinks they are. Maybe later he’ll get the chance.

The next thing Tenya does is fill and turn on the electric kettle. Then he sets you down at the kitchen island while he fixes you a plate of mini scones and goes over the tea choices. “Decaf?” He can’t imagine you’d want caffeine at this hour, but maybe you want a pick-me-up.

“Yes, please. Do you have something herbal?”

Tenya hums as the kettle starts to bubble. “Orange, lavender, or white jasmine?”

“Oh, the orange.”

Tenya grabs two teabags.

“And honey?”

He grabs the honey.

His back is to you as he fixes two matching mugs—thick, blue ceramic that he picked out when he got his first place of his own. The kettle is almost ready, so while he waits, he undoes his tie completely, letting it drape over his shoulders. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, then rolls up his sleeves. Though Tenya genuinely just likes to be dressed comfortably at home, he wouldn’t be upset if you happen to be watching him.

When the kettle is ready, he prepares a tea for each of you, then turns to add the honey in front of you so you can say when. You wrap both your hands around the mug like it’s made of solid gold. Immediately, you take a sip.

“Ow.” You click your tongue against your teeth.

“You never let it cool,” Tenya mentions, slowly stirring his honey into his steaming cup.

“So you’ve noticed?” This makes you smile, so Tenya keeps going.

“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you.”

“Like how many different bras I own?” you chuckle.

Tenya snorts, then runs a hand through his hair. “Well, yeah. But also stuff like how you like your tea and what music you listen to. Where you have scars and marks on your body. That kind of thing.”

A long, not-uncomfortable silence falls over the kitchen as you both enjoy your tea, Tenya leaning against the island opposite you.

You wring out your teabag against the side of your mug with your spoon, then place both on the saucer Tenya set out between you. Then you clear your throat. “At the bar…”

Tenya sets his own mug down and listens.

You sigh. “It’s kind of stupid, in hindsight. But I’m worried that when you get the promotion, you’ll be all set in life. And you won’t need me anymore.” Your voice wavers on the last syllable, and you cough into your shoulder to cover it up. Your eyes are glassy again.

Tenya doesn’t hesitate, barely thinks before pressing his hand to your cheek, softly bringing your gaze to meet his. “I guarantee that if I get the promotion, I’ll be as stressed as ever. Maybe even more—just look at Sasaki. I’ll be in his shoes.” Tenya chuckles in spite of himself.

“Regardless, I wouldn’t want to stop seeing you, if that were the case. I’d actually like to see you more, if you want that.” Tenya rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Unless you’re ready to be done with me, and whatever this thing is.”

“No.” You reply in a thick, watery whisper. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes. “But I think I fucked up. I think I have real feelings for you.”

Tenya brings his other hand to your face. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbles into a kiss.

Your mugs of tea are quickly forgotten. You kiss him back across the kitchen island, covering his hands with your own. Tenya can’t stop because he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to kiss you like this, with the full weight of how he feels about you.

When you finally pull back, you’re biting your lip. “Is it too much if I ask you to take me to your bedroom?”

Tenya does you one better and carries you there in his arms.

You giggle when he lays you down on his pristinely made bed, your blouse riding up over your stomach. Tenya is blindsided by how beautiful you look like this, rumpled and laughing. He’s never fucked you lying down before, and suddenly, it all feels that much more intimate.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it before you pull him down on top of you by his shirt. Tenya settles himself between your legs, bent over the foot of the bed. You undress each other between passionate kisses, baring yourselves to each other from this entirely new angle.

Tenya trails kisses down your body until he’s crouched on the floor, tongue pressed against your pussy with a heat he’s never felt before. He devours you, groaning while you writhe against him, reaching down to pull his hair when you want him to hit a different spot. He lets you direct him wherever you like, alternating between licking over your hole and sucking your clit until you cream on the two fingers he has buried inside you.

Half-drunk on you, Tenya climbs back on top. With your legs around his waist, you beg him to fuck you, to fill you up with everything he has. He doesn’t have a condom nearby, but you plead with him anyway, telling him that tonight, he doesn’t need one. For the first time since the first time, he slicks himself up with you and slides in raw, moaning your name as the plush of your walls sucks him in deep.

When his glasses slide down his nose from the sweat beading on his face, Tenya tosses them vaguely toward the night stand. As he moves inside you, he drops his forehead to rest against yours. Even with his eyes closed in ecstasy, he listens for every desperate sound you make and feels every clench of your muscles around him.

He feels like there’s so much he wants to tell you, so much he wants to ask you, but it feels so good inside you that he can only babble. Your breaths are hot and fast against his mouth as he lets the words spill out. “So good, so fucking perfect. Good girl, you fuck me so well.”

He lets you push against his chest and roll him over. He holds your middle while you ride him to your climax, the extra wetness and the vice-like squeeze pulling him over the edge with you. Your body locks up over his as he fills you with everything he has, coating your insides until it starts to leak out into his lap.

Tenya’s chest pounds, breath quickening until he comes down and you collapse at his side, a hand splayed over his sweaty chest. He holds you, memorizing the shape and weight of you beside him until you get up to shower off together, and then he holds you for the rest of the night too.

–

Tenya never thought he would see you like this: in his bed, under his sheets, asleep with your head on his pillow. He hates to wake you up and disturb you, but if you want to go home for a change of clothes before work, he probably needs to drive you there soon. Lightly, he nudges your shoulder until your lashes flutter.

“Morning,” he says softly.

You roll over onto your back, groaning a little bit as you stretch. “Good morning,” you mumble.

“Sleep ok?” Tenya slides out of bed, reaching to his bedside table before he realizes his glasses aren’t there. He’s about to get down and look under the bed for them when your hand finds his back. He lays back down.

“Pretty well, yeah.” You take your time looking him over, touching his arm, studying his face fondly.

After a while, he asks, “Do you want me to take you home before work?”

You snuggle deeper into your pillow. “Nah, I’ll just borrow one of your shirts.”

“You’re already wearing one of my shirts,” he smirks, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. He’d let you dig through his pajama drawer before bed, and you’d chosen the biggest t-shirt you could find.

“Then I’ll borrow another one.” You giggle a bit, before your smile fades. “If that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok.”

You sit halfway up, swallowing a deep breath, and a knot forms in Tenya’s stomach.

“I just want to make sure we’re absolutely clear,” you explain, twisting the bedsheets in your fists. “I have feelings for you. Is that something you want to pursue now? Because I don’t think I can stay casual with you anymore, unless it’s just as friends.”

Tenya exhales. He sits up too, taking you hand in his own so you let the sheets fall away. Even without his glasses on, he sees you in perfect focus, his memory making up for what his vision lacks. “I should have known from the beginning that I couldn’t ‘keep it casual.’ Especially not with you.”

You blush, and it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. You try to look away, but he doesn’t want you to hide from him. Lightly, he lifts your chin with a curled finger and pecks you on the lips.

“Would you like to date me?”

You burst into a fit of happy giggles. “Yes. Please.”

Tenya smiles so big it almost hurts. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

You kiss him again before swatting at his chest. “You fell for me?” you tease.”

“Completely,” Tenya admits with one more kiss.

Eventually, he’s able to get you out of bed, and he finds his glasses, haphazardly tossed aside the night before, all the way across the room, behind his hamper. He’s not even sure how he managed that. He leaves you to get ready while he goes downstairs to start his coffee pot and stick a few eggs in the hard boiler. You don’t have a ton of time to get to work, but he can order you some breakfast once you get there if you want.

With two travel mugs filled and ready to go, he heads back upstairs to finish getting dressed. He finds you in the ensuite, leaning forward over the counter to pin up your hair. You’re wearing one of his dress shirts tucked into your skirt and an oversized sweater vest over top. Somehow, you’ve managed to make it all look so purposeful.

He has a passing thought about taking you over the counter, pushing your skirt up and fucking you from behind, but you’re verging on being late to work already. Besides, he remembers. The two of you have all the time in the world now.

Instead, he gives you a kiss on the cheek, tells you that you look beautiful, and within minutes, you’re out the door.

When he pulls his car into the parking garage, something occurs to him. “What are we going to tell people?”

“About us?”

“Yes,” Tenya chuckles. Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to you yet either, but with this relationship, he was starting to expect to figure things out as you go. “Do you want to tell people about us?”

“Yes,” you answer confidently. “But maybe we can just say that we’ve been getting closer as friends… if anyone asks.”

“Good idea.”

That’s how the two of you end up walking into the building, hand in hand instead of one after the other. It’s also why Kaminari stands up at his desk screaming, “I knew it!” before the front door has even closed behind you.

Tenya probably should have expected the news would shake up the office a bit. Everything is about to change, but to his own surprise, he isn’t afraid in the slightest. He just holds your hand a little tighter, and he feels ok.

While you’re busy talking Kaminari down when Sasaki appears from around the corner. “Iida, do you have a minute?”

Tenya’s stomach drops. Everything positive he was feeling is instantly replaced with nausea. He’s sure his face turns pale as he wonders what this is about. The promotion? Probably. But what if he’s in trouble? What if someone caught the two of you hooking up and he’s about to be reprimanded or worse?

Trying his best not to jump to any more dire conclusions, Tenya swallows the lump in his throat and replies, “Sure.” He gives your hand one more squeeze before following Sasaki to his office. 

Despite his nerves about the conversation ahead, Tenya finds Sasaki’s office as calming as usual. It’s plainly furnished with a desk, chairs, and a few filing cabinets, and a bookcase stuffed with comics, all of which are kept immaculately neat. The only items on the desk are Sasaki’s computer and a set of wax seals. 

On a shelf by the windows sits a tabletop fountain next to an oil diffuser, the calming scent of eucalyptus wafting across the room—Tenya has always assumed Sasaki keeps these around to help with stress. One wall is decorated with posters from national parks, and across from it hangs the company’s yearly branded calendar next to a framed motivational print of a kitten clinging to a tree branch. 

None of this is unsettling except for the old cardboard cutout of Toshinori, made years ago for an advertising campaign, standing in the corner staring out eerily from behind the man himself, who is seated next to Sasaki’s desk.

Toshinori stands and shakes Tenya’s hand. “Great to see you, Iida. I’ve been so busy, I feel like it’s been months!”

In truth, it has been a couple weeks, not that Tenya would mention it. “How’s your finger healing up?” Tenya asks, taking a seat. The last time he saw Toshinori, he was still wearing a splint.

“Fine, it’s all fine. I do have a sprained arch from wakeboarding, but it’s nothing that some good shoes and a few days of rest won’t fix.” Toshinori is always injuring himself, it seems. Nonetheless, he remains endlessly positive, making it impossible for Tenya to tell if he’s in trouble or not.

Sasaki takes a seat as well and pulls some papers out of his desk drawer. “Well, now that Toshinori has a bum foot and I have him captive in the office for the week, we were finally able to discuss some things.”

Sasaki taps the edges of the paperwork on his desk, but before Tenya can even say a prayer that they’re not severance papers, Toshinori blurts out, “We’re promoting you to Quality Manager! What do you think?”

Sasaki sighs. “As in, do you accept the position?”

“And all the perks, of course,” Toshinori says, nudging his elbow into Tenya’s side.

Truthfully, Tenya is so relieved he could almost cry, so it takes him a few minutes to find the words to respond. After flapping his lips a few times, Tenya enthusiastically accepts. “Yes, yes I would love to. I’d be honored.” Reflexively, he reaches out to shake Toshinori’s hand again, which makes his boss laugh as he accepts.

“You’ve been nothing but an asset to the company for years, Young Iida. You deserve it more than anyone.”

Sasaki tries to hand Tenya the stack of forms and contracts to sign, but Tenya slides in a handshake before Sasaki can dodge it. Sasaki chuckles under his breath. “I hope you haven’t been driving yourself crazy worrying about this. You were easily our first choice.”

Tenya clears his throat, accepting the contracts and a pen to sign them with. The salary increase listed at the top of the page is nothing to balk at, and he’s even more thankful than he was a minute ago. 

“To tell you the truth, I thought maybe you’d go with someone else.”

“Who?” Sasaki asks.

“Monoma, maybe,” Tenya mumbles.

Toshinori bursts out laughing, the volume practically rattling the walls. “Monoma is a fine salesman, but truthfully, it was only because the investor board wanted us to present a few candidates before making the offer. He was more of a back-up.”

“Monoma is a prick,” Sasaki adds bluntly. “I would have only promoted Todoroki if you declined, Iida. You’ll be at liberty to choose your own assistant manager once all this is finalized, but I highly recommend you choose him. He’s got a level head on his shoulders.”

“You’re right about that.” Tenya would love nothing more than to bring Todoroki up the corporate ladder with him, so to speak, but he’ll have to see if he’s even interested first. Maybe he can enlist you and Hanta to help him encourage Todoroki to step up. If nothing else, he’s positive Todoroki would love his own office instead of a cubicle.

After he reads over the rest of the documents and signs his name on the dotted line, Sasaki takes Tenya to his new office, an actual corner office that was vacated a few months ago when Aizawa started working from home while taking care of his adopted daughter. It’s all so corporate, and feels almost too much for a middle manager, but Tenya has to admit, the view is much nicer than the temporary walls of his cubicle.

And so is the privacy, he realizes, when you slide in shortly after Sasaki leaves, locking the door behind you.

“Congrats, Mr. Manager.” You throw your arms around his neck, craning your neck back for a kiss. With his hands pressed to the small of your back, Tenya pulls you in for one.

“Thank you. So you heard already?”

You slip teasingly out of his grasp, wandering over to peer out the floor to ceiling windows framing the corner of the room. “Of course. You’re the talk of the office today, you know.”

“Is that so?” Tenya slides up behind you, unable to keep his hands away from your hips, pulling you back against him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, marveling again at the view of the city outside. “And is that your fault?”

“No, Denki was listening at Sasaki’s door the whole time. He’s the one who told everybody.”

Tenya kisses the side of your neck. You don’t smell like your normal perfume. You smell like his shirt, his toothpaste, his home. “Of course.”

You giggle. “And you know what else they’re saying?”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re dating the girl from marketing.”

Tenya kisses your neck again, farther down, pushing your collar aside to get closer to your shoulder. “I’m flattered that people think I could deserve her.”

You turn in his arms, already unbuttoning your top. You take a step back, leaning your ass against his new desk. “Imagine if they knew what’s been happening right under their noses.”

Tenya loosens his tie. He’s on top of the world right now, with nothing to stop him from taking advantage of his new private office. Breaking the facade, he presses himself against you again and asks earnestly, “Does this make me your boyfriend?”

He lifts you up just enough to help you sit on his desk. You grin, somehow warm and salacious all at once. Taking his face in your hands, you pull him closer still. “Yes, sir,” you reply before sealing your lips over his.

-

Todoroki and Sero could not have chosen a more perfect day for their wedding. It’s unseasonably warm for mid-autumn, the sun peeking through the branches of the half-barren trees. For a day when he needs to stand outdoors in a tux and not sweat through his jacket, Tenya could not be more thankful.

Although it’s almost time to head to the venue, Tenya stops in front of the bathroom mirror to ensure that not a hair on his head is out of place. He knows how much it means to Todoroki that today goes smoothly, and even though Tenya isn’t the best man, he’s taken it upon himself to coordinate some of the finer details of the day, as far as the wedding party goes. He’s texted Natsuo multiple times to make sure he has the rings, made sure that Midoriya is on standby for any last minute outfit repairs, and reminded Inasa at the rehearsal dinner that he is not permitted to start drinking until after the ceremony.

Just as Tenya is starting to feel a stress knot forming between his shoulder blades, your heels come clopping against the tile floor of the bathroom. You reach in and grab your lipstick off the bathroom counter, tucking it away in your comically small clutch purse. In the same motion, you teasingly pat his ass with your hand.

“You look so handsome. I love your hair slicked back like that.” Even after everything, it still makes Tenya feel fluttery inside when you flirt with him so shamelessly.

He trails the back of his hand down your arm, admiring the way the sleeve of your dress flutters over your skin. “Thank you. You look beautiful.”

“Good thing there’s no bride to upstage.”

Chuckling, Tenya subconsciously leans in to kiss you. You slap your purse against his chest to stop him. “Baby, my lipstick,” you giggle.

“Good catch.” There’s no time for whatever cleanup that might entail.

From the moment the two of you hop into Tenya’s car, the next few hours pass in a blur. The ceremony is being held outside at Enji’s country club. Cocktail hour will be inside the rustic lodge, and dinner and dancing afterwards in an elaborate tent on the edge of the golf course. Though it looks lovely on you, your lipstick again prevents Tenya from kissing you before you part ways. Instead, he presses a kiss to your hand before you go to meet Kaminari in the lodge for a drink.

Garment bag in hand, Tenya is then whisked away by the wedding coordinator to a dressing room on the lower floor of the lodge. Midoriya is already there, crouched on the floor, pressing the creases in Todoroki’s white tux pants with his portable steamer. The groom himself is sitting on a barstool in a silk robe and his boxers, talking to his brothers. Touya isn’t even technically in the wedding party, but Tenya thinks it’s nice that Shouto invited him to hang out before the ceremony anyway. Inasa and Tokoyami, Todoroki’s college friends, should be joining shortly.

Normally, Tenya would ask Todoroki how he’s feeling, but he’s wary of stirring up any potential trouble. Instead, he says, “That’s a nice robe.”

“Gift from Hanta,” Todoroki says, smiling. “It came in a set. I think mostly he just wanted to wear the matching one.” Natsuo snorts out a laugh before covering his mouth with his hand, but Shouto doesn’t even seem to notice. In fact, he’s smiling more than usual, with an easy confidence that Tenya was definitely not expecting.

“You seem… relaxed.” Tenya can’t help but state the obvious. It’s been months since he’s seen Todoroki so calm and laid-back.

“Yeah, Todoroki,” Midoriya comments. “Aren’t you nervous?”

Tenya would smack Midoriya in the back of the head if he were standing close enough, but Todoroki keeps smiling, unflappable. He simply glances down at his hands, rubbing his left ring finger.

“I would be. But just between us, Hanta and I are actually already married.”

Tenya’s jaw drops to the floor. Midoriya screeches sharply in surprise. 

Natsuo blinks. “You’re what?”

“Don’t tell dad. Or mom or Fuyumi, either,” Todoroki says. “But yeah, we were talking about how stressed we were, how I was so wrapped up in planning and Han was avoiding it. So we decided to book an appointment at city hall, just for us.”

“Well, shit.” Touya clicks his tongue, grinning.

“Well, congratulations!” Tenya sputters, equal parts proud and flabbergasted.

Once everyone is present and dressed, the next few hours are spent taking photos while trying to avoid Sero, who is getting ready with his own bridal party on-location. “Hanta’s old-fashioned,” Todoroki explains at one point. “He didn’t want to see me before the ceremony.”

It’s a sweet notion, and it’s completely worth it, Tenya decides, as he watches the pure joy on his friends’ faces when they finally see each other. With the bridal party already lined up, Todoroki and Sero exit from opposite sides of the lodge and meet at the end of the aisle. Todoroki grins so hard it looks like his cheeks might burst while Sero smiles brightly with all his teeth, an eyebrow raised as if to ask, “Are you ready for this?”

From there, the two join hands and walk to the altar together. Tenya finds himself crying, overwhelmed with happiness and pride for his friends who are so in love. He spends the first few minutes of the ceremony behind his handkerchief until he’s able to pull himself together.

Vows and rings are exchanged, and when the officiant pronounces the couple “officially” wed, Sero fully dips his husband and steals a steamy kiss—one dramatic enough to potentially piss off his new father-in-law, but also romantic enough that no one will be able to say a damn word about it.

Then the party begins.

While the rest of the guests are shuffled off to cocktail hour, Tenya endures more posed photos than he’s ever been subjected to in his life. Cheeks sore from smiling, he finally makes it to the reception tent where you’re waiting for him with a drink in your hand. He tips back the expensive amber liquid without bothering to ask what it is, but the burn on the way down is refreshing.

“Thank you, I needed that,” he jokes, sliding his arm around your waist.

“I thought you might. Being in a wedding is hard work, you know.” You rub little circles into his back, holding yourself close to him.

Tenya presses a kiss to your temple. “Hardest part is being so far from you.” He knows his time is short—the rest of the wedding party members are already filling their seats at the head table, and he needs to join them. 

Your seat at the ‘friends and partners’ table is calling you too. With a parting kiss, you promise to find him after dinner.

The food is incredible, the speeches are limited to a few short toasts, and Todoroki shares a dance with his mother that makes Tenya tear up for a second time that day. It’s all very traditional, befitting the elegant decor and soft, intimate lighting in the room.

Tenya doesn’t consider himself much of a dancer—for all his athletic ability, he’s much too stiff on the dance floor and sticks out like a sore thumb—but he’s relieved when the DJ invites everyone out of their seats with an upbeat pop song. Suddenly, everything feels more casual, and people begin to move around freely to mingle.

Once he procures another drink to loosen him up, Tenya joins you on the dance floor along with Kaminari and Jirou. While Tenya sways side to side behind you, one hand on your hip and the other around the neck of his beer bottle, he gets the chance to people-watch. Todoroki has his arms thrown around Sero’s neck, the newlyweds sharing a smitten look and slow dancing even though it’s a faster song.

By the bar stands Toshinori, a head above the crowd and with his hand wrapped loosely around a few of David Shield’s fingers. Midoriya speaks animatedly to them while tracing his finger nervously around the rim of his cocktail glass. Toshinori flaps open his jacket to show Midoriya the bright red and blue silk lining, so Tenya assumes they must be talking menswear. They seemingly exchange phone numbers, after which Toshinori lays a heavy hand on Midoriya’s shoulder before David pulls him away to another conversation.

As Midoriya lingers alone near the bar, Tenya is able to catch his eye. He tries to wave his friend over to join the group, but Midoriya just shakes his head, lips pressed in a tight smile. It’s then Tenya notices that you’re chatting with Uraraka as you dance, your hands clasped with hers between you as Bakugou hovers nearby, hands in his pockets. She was seated at your dinner table since her boyfriend was standing up for Sero, so of course you made friends.

When the song ends, Tenya can’t help but pat your ass before slipping away. You wink at him over your shoulder and pop your hip, confirming that you liked it.

Tenya drifts over to the bar. Posting up next to Midoriya, he asks casually, “How’s it going?”

Midoriya shrugs. “Fine. I don’t really want to go over there, though.”

Tenya takes a pensive sip of his drink. “Understandable.”

“‘Sup, Iida.”

Turning away from the bar with one of the signature cocktails in hand is Shinsou. Though he was replaced as Kaminari’s date after the leftovers squabble, Tenya doesn’t hold it against him.

In fact, as he’s saying hello to his coworker, Tenya gets an idea that could be complete brilliance or an absolute disaster, but he decides it’s worth a shot.

“Have you met Midoriya? He’s a school friend of mine and Todoroki’s.”

“I have not,” Shinsou muses. He reaches out to Midoriya for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

In less than a second, Midoriya has pulled Shinsou’s entire arm toward him to inspect his wool jacket. “Is this Ralph Lauren?”

Shinsou chuckles. “Yeah, vintage. I like to do my rounds at a few thrift shops every weekend. You wouldn’t believe the gems you’ll find if you’re willing to sift through the junk.”

Midoriya flips Shinsou’s cuff inside out, closely inspecting the stitching. “It’s in great shape, and this is probably from the late 90s. Have you found any other cool stuff lately? I swear I never have any luck at the shops in town.” He’s babbling, a long-standing nervous habit.

Shinsou gives a catlike grin. “I’d be willing to give you some pointers. Wanna go find somewhere a little quieter?”

As the two scamper away, falling into conversation about the best places to thrift, Tenya makes his way back to you. He falls back into place behind you, holding your hips and swaying along with you. It seems like a lifetime ago that he only dared to touch you when no one else was around. In reality, it’s only been a few months since that night at the bar, when everything started—when everything in his life changed.

Tenya’s life isn’t perfect by any means, and it looks much different than he thought it would before you. But he has a job he enjoys for a company that treats him well. He’s in a room with nearly all his friends—more than he can count on two hands—and he’s proud of the lives they’re leading too.

And he’s in love. With you.

The DJ plays a slow song next, urging all the couples to join the grooms on the dance floor. The string lights draped in tulle across the ceiling of the tent fade to a moody indigo hue, and couples young and old take the floor. You spin around, wobbling a little before falling into Tenya’s chest. He makes a mental note to get you a water before you have another drink, but he can’t help but smile when he sees how eager you look.

“Dance with me?”

“Of course.”

You move onto the dance floor proper, choosing a spot near the outer edge. Tenya holds you close, his hands loose against your waist while your arms loop around his neck. It’s effortless, how well the two of you fit together.

Tenya had told himself for years that a relationship would only make life more complicated. He was wrong. Because being with you is easy. It’s comfortable. It makes his life better. The earth-shattering sex is just a bonus, and even that is something he doesn’t have to worry about anymore. He doesn’t need to rush off with you in public because he knows you’ll be home with him at the end of the day. Not that he never wants to hook up in public again, but it’s nice knowing he doesn’t have to.

“So, tonight. Are we going back to your place or mine?”

Tenya hums thoughtfully. “It doesn’t matter. Which do you prefer?”

You playfully tilt your head side to side, like you’re weighing heavy options. “Yours, if that’s ok. I feel like I’ve practically been living there, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Never. Even if you want to move in permanently, I wouldn’t say no.”

It’s not until you gasp that Tenya fully processes what he said, but it’s the truth. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. He’d been going back and forth, a little worried that it might be to soon for you—

“Can I really?”

Tenya pushes a stray tendril of hair behind your ear. “Yes.”

You quietly squeal with delight, just loud enough for the two of you to hear. “You want to live with me? You want to cook and pay bills together? And share a dresser drawer for our socks?”

“I think you can have your own dresser. But yes,” Tenya chuckles.

“Can we get new curtains for the bedroom windows?” Clearly, you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

“What’s wrong with my curtains?”

Your fingers drum against his shoulder. “Nothing, nothing! I just think the room could use a little more color.”

“Fair enough, if we can pick out the new ones together.”

“Deal. But I want something a little darker so I can sleep in while you go running crazy early in the morning.”

“All right.” He smiles.

Tenya has only successfully convinced you to join him once on his morning run. It was nice having you by his side, but he finds it equally nice to come home and see you still serenely asleep in his bed—your shared bed. Those early mornings are his favorite thing in the world, especially when they lead to cuddling you, showering with you, making coffee and pancakes with you. Now that you’re moving in, he realizes, maybe every morning can be like that.

Tenya tilts your head up, content to kiss your lipstick off. After, you press your cheek to his chest, ear to his racing heartbeat. Even with all the time in the world, Tenya can’t wait for what comes next with you.

[dearestdaffodils]

Stranger Things series rewrite headcanons part 2

Since Eddie is the “freak”, he never really gets compliments. So when he does, it consumes his mind. For example, the reader once tells him that she likes his smile and Eddie makes it his mission to always be smiling around her

One time, Eddie goes with the reader to get revenge on Dustin’s bullies. This is when Eddie falls in love with the reader. He literally watches her smash a mailbox with a baseball bat and he swears she walks back to the car in slowmo with a sexy metal song playing in the background

Eddie once tells the reader that he has nightmares/insomnia and the reader gives him her favorite stuffed animal. She catches him fast asleep with it tucked under his chin on more than one occasion

Dustin is grumpy in the mornings. Like, 80 year old man grumpy. The reader has to essentially poke him with something from across the room so he’ll wake up without hitting her

Eddie is the exact same way. Except the reader tends to lean towards throwing things at Eddie to wake him up

Dustin makes a mixtape (with Steve’s help) of his and the reader’s favorite songs and they listen to it on car rides or while the reader is cooking dinner

The reader always has extra school supplies, lending them out to anyone who needs them

Once at a sleepover, the boys talk the reader into straightening Dustin’s hair while he’s asleep. He looks surprisingly like Steve with straight hair

When Dustin gets the colored bands on his braces changed, he lets the reader pick the colors (she usually coordinates them to the holiday/season)

The reader quickly discovers that Robin and Steve are like children when they are together. She becomes their buffer for when they get in flicking fights

Steve is the only one that remembers that the reader and Eddie got “married” when they were in preschool. Steve remembers because he “officiated” the wedding

When Steve and the reader graduate from high school, Dustin cries more than anyone. He handpicks flowers for the reader and gives her a framed photo of the two of them at the Snowball dance. He gives Steve a “monster fighting” kit along with a collection of little notes that Dustin wrote for Steve throughout their friendship

Steve and the reader have a small grad party with just their friends and despite the fact that Eddie despises any music that isn’t metal, he sings Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA for the reader when they get a moment alone. He is afraid that the reader is going to leave Hawkins and him behind, but she reassures him that she can’t leave him or the rest of their friends

The reader makes herself her own versions of the Hellfire shirt. She has one just like Eddie’s, a tank top version, a crop top version, and one very similar to Eddie’s except the sleeves are her favorite color

Dustin lets the reader paint his nails cause he likes the way it feels

Eddie hates how hot his hair gets on the back of his neck during the summer but refuses to do his hair himself (he claims his rings get stuck) so he always has the reader pull it into a bun, ponytail, or braid for him so he doesn’t get too hot

Eddie can’t swim. He never learned cause his family never had the money for swim lessons. So Dustin and the reader teach him to swim one summer

You know that audio, I believe it’s from Doctor Who, “I got my spaceship, I got my boys…” that’s the reader with Eddie, Steve, Dustin, the other boys, and even the rest of the members of Corroded Coffin. She’s constantly saying “I got my baseball bat, I got my boys, I’m good to go”. She’s ready to go to war for any and all of them. And they do the same for her.

Eddie once witnessed the reader smack a bully upside the head with her lunch tray. It’s one of his favorite memories

One year, Eddie and Steve lose a bet with the rest of the group and have to dress up as princesses for Halloween. They enjoy it more than they let on

Eddie is the KING of dad jokes

Dustin scrapbooks. He has boxes of books he’s made with pictures of all his friends

Max looks up to the reader a lot, and even starts to try and emulate the reader’s style and personality

Max gives the type of hugs where she cups the back of the other person’s head and tries to keep them as close as possible. The first time she does it to the reader, the reader squeezes the younger girl as tight as she can. They hug for at least 30 minutes

Nancy acts like the paparazzi to Eddie and the reader. She always has her camera on her to take candid pictures of the pair because they always come out amazing. She gifts the pictures to them afterwards. Her personal favorite is the one of Eddie and the reader sitting on a dock down at Lover’s Lake, making flower crowns

Eddie used to chew his hair when he was little as a form of self soothing

Hopper once thanks the reader for looking after the kids and tells her that he’s proud of her. He doesn’t speak of it ever again but he invites the reader over for family dinner every week as a thank you

One summer, Nancy decides she wants to go on a road trip with the reader and Robin. She doesn’t tell them that though. She tells them she needs them to come to the store with her and the next thing they know, Nancy’s driving out of Hawkins

Eddie tried to grow a mustache once. It didn’t work. He can only grow some light scruff

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will take the reader out for Mother’s Day one year. She cries about it for an hour afterwards because she loves them so much

After the battle at Starcourt, both Robin and the reader are wary of fireworks. They get together on the Fourth of July and hide from the fireworks for a few years after. Steve, Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan, El, Max, and the younger boys decide to change that one year and slowly reintroduce fireworks to Robin and the reader

The reader, Max, and Robin become known as “the floor friends”. If the group is having a meeting at someone’s house, these three voluntarily sit on the floor. On multiple occasions, the group will go over to the reader’s trailer to hangout and find Max and the reader laying on the floor talking

Eddie likes to manspread and Max likes to make fun of him for it. She literally teaches herself the splits in order to out-manspread Eddie

taglist: 

@wayfaring----stranger​ @themarvelousbee​ @balanceofgray​ @mochas-rambles​ @efvyqrs​ @10minutesofscreentime​ @allie-mcginn​ @poguebaby @short-potato​ @wh0re4harrington​ @jinxed-jk​ @seggsyswagger @nothanksdidntask @tenkomybeloved​

@byebyebikinisss​ @hellfirebabes​ ​

[erineverly]

  ❛  CONTINUED  FROM  HERE .  🌻  ┊  ( @rcsechild )

The last few months have been challenging and difficult for Erin, to say the least. Ever since their wedding in April, everything has been spiraling down, with a few ups here and there but nothing truly significant. She can count on the fingers of one hand the days when she was genuinely happy from the moment that she opened her eyes in the morning to the second she closed them at night. They always find something to bicker about, whether it’s something as unimportant as a leaky faucet or something that originates from a much bigger issue like random outbursts of jealousy and anger. There’s always some sort of tension between them and it’s driving her insane. She thinks of running away so often that every time her eyes flicker to the ring on her finger, she can’t help but feel repulsed. Especially when she reminds herself that it’s no longer just the two of them — they’re having a baby and the timing couldn’t possibly be worse. Willow Amelia will be here in a few weeks and their marriage is hanging by a thread. She doubts it can last until the end of September, let alone the beginning of November.

There’s a lot of stress and pressure on both of them. Despite Erin’s best efforts, this pregnancy has been anything but a joyful ride, especially the third trimester. Summers in California are usually hot and dry. Born and raised in the Valley, the curly-haired brunette has grown used to the heat index being above the 90s. However, this particular summer is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. Her feet swell almost every single day, her back and legs ache constantly, she has to go to the bathroom every twenty minutes and even after hours and hours of nothing but frustrations, she rarely gets any sleep at night. She suffers from insomnia. All she does when the sun goes down is toss and turn and waddle to the bathroom. But the worst part about this whole ordeal? She feels like she’s alone. She can’t truly count on anyone because no one understands what she’s going through. She’s tired and grouchy and easily irritated, and all the hormonal changes in her body only pour more gasoline over the already burning fire.

However, despite acting selfish so often, Erin does understand that there’s a lot on Axl’s plate as well right now. She’d have to be blind to fail to notice how frustrated he can get. With Steven no longer in the band, their house still up on the market, the crazy neighbor calling the cops on them every time they as much as raise their voices, the amount of stress that the redhead most likely experiences on a daily basis must be immeasurable. Unfortunately, instead of making things easier for him, his wife is doing the exact opposite and unintentionally only making his life more difficult. That’s when guilt sets in. They should be cherishing every moment that they get to spend together, they should be thankful that their baby is alive and growing . . . Usually, they do anything but that.

So, when Axl shakes her awake one morning, the last thing that she expects is a surprise trip. The vacation that they both clearly need and deserve. When she opens her eyes and sees the suitcases, the very first thing that comes to her mind is — he’s finally had enough, he’s leaving. Her features light up all at once when he informs her that they’re going to the airport together. When they touch down in Indianapolis, Erin is no longer the grouchy, frustrated beast that she’d been the past few weeks. There’s a bright smile on her face and an almost unfamiliar feeling in her heart — hope. Maybe, just maybe, everything will work out and this will be the new beginning. The change that they’ve both been waiting and praying for. Their plane arrives late in the evening, which is why they decide to stay the night at a hotel in Indianapolis, get some much-needed rest and start exploring the next morning.

That’s how they find themselves in a car, heading in the direction only known to the redhead. For the first time in months, Erin is completely relaxed and actually feeling good. One could even say that she’s glowing again. “So . . . We should play a game, you know? I’ll try to guess where we’re going and if I’m right, you’ll buy me a milkshake when we get there,” she playfully suggests, reaching over the console and turning the music down just enough for them to hear one another. She opens her mouth and is about to share one of her assumptions with the redhead when something distracts her. She jolts up in her seat like an overjoyed toddler and squeaks, “oh, my goodness! Look at all these cows, Axy! Aren’t they so cute? Why aren’t they black and white, though? I thought all cows were black and white.” Giggling, she points at a large herd of cows outside and waves at them. “Moo!” She calls out just to be even more obnoxious and make the other laugh. “I don’t think they understand me, Axy. You should try. This one could be your twin sister. She just hasn’t grown her bangs as long as yours yet.”

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

 Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 

“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up. 

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 

I shuddered in disgust. 

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 

I blinked. 

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me. 

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 

 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 

He was quiet for a second. 

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 

“You’re here.” He said blankly. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 

He hesitated before shaking his head. 

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.” 

Oh, God. 

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 

We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 

She gaped at me. 

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 

He took a deep breath and went on. 

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat. 

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 

Coward. 

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped . 

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 

It made me laugh. 

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 

i was exhausted. 

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him. 

What now? 

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 

For now I could only accept them at face value. 

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 

“Its her birthday.” 

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 

He stared at me. 

“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 

I hesitated. 

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 

“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 

I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 

On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll do it.” 

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 

I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 

it wasn’t that hard. 

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 

“No.. No I’m fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 

 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 

Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 

His face shifted into a frown. 

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.” 

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 

 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 

I gaped.

“Months?” 

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 

Jungkook blinked. 

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 

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NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

[sondepoch]

HC: Married life with the boys!

With one chaotic human and a handful of boys too attractive for their own good, it's always been a simple matter of time before love found its way into the Devildom. And where love blooms, marriage often follows—and nothing will stop these boys from giving their human all the love in the world.

Word Count: 5.9k

*Mild NSFW themes for Beel & Diavolo ;)

Characters: All Brothers + Undateables - Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

It highkey blows everyone’s mind when the two of you get married

Because absolutely nothing changes

Lucifer still reprimands you if you do something ridiculous, he still crosses his arms and frowns when you tease him, he still sends a scowl your way when you mess around with Diavolo - if anything, the two of you are distant, and alarmingly so to everyone who gazes upon the supposedly happy couple

But that’s only because they can’t see what goes down in private

And yes - the grass is greener behind the closed door of Lucifer’s study

It was different when the two of you were simply in a relationship: Lucifer’s pride was always there. He would allow you to have your way with him, touch his hair and kiss him and hold him, but he could only reciprocate so much

But now that you’re married?

If anything, Lucifer’s pride dictates that he now has to be open with you, the single person he trusts more than anyone else in the world

Something that he can only do in private

And honestly - you savor moments when you’re alone with him because of it

For the first time, he is the one to initiate contact. The barrier of pride is broken, and in its place lingers Lucifer’s neverending desire to be wrapped in your arms

It doesn’t matter if you’re smaller than him, you are big spoon

You pamper him, giving him all the forehead kisses and tight hugs and quiet handholding he could ever desire. And in exchange, he finally becomes honest with his emotions - finally casting his pride away so that he can ask you when he wants a hug, when he wants a kiss, when he’s needy for affection and love, and he wants you to give it

It’s reached the point where he only wants to be alone with you, eternally savoring the feeling of your arms around him and pulling him closer - finally vocal about his desires 

But he does feel guilty that he can only do this behind closed doors

So slowly, very slowly, he tries to sacrifice his pride and begin treating you different publicly

It starts small: a more tender voice whenever he addresses you, a secondary “are you sure?” whenever he’s worried that you’re uncomfortable, a ghost of a smile on his lips when you laugh so merrily

But soon, it morphs into small touches: fingers brushing against each other when you walk, a hand on your back when you’re next to each other, standing closer to you than everyone else

Slowly, the people around you become relieved. They start to understand that you are like any married couple, but that Lucifer was simply having a hard time adjusting to the abrupt closeness

And then, on the day when you and his brothers throw him a surprise birthday party, Lucifer is so overwhelmed by love that he kisses you then and there, right in front of everyone, pride be damned

And the process is slow going, but eventually he becomes as open with you in public as he is in private, until the two of you are so close that it seems nothing can ever keep him from holding your hand the way he wants again

Mammon

s m u g

It still blows his mind that you chose him out of everyone, that you chose him to marry and love and spend the rest of your life with

And while he is absolutely dumbfounded by this fact, it won’t stop him from rubbing it everyone else’s face at every chance

“Hey guys, wanna go to this all-inclusive resort next month?” Mammon grins, an uncharacteristically innocent smile on his face. “I’ll pay and all!”

“Oh, yes!” Asmo squeals while Beel’s ears perk up at the word all-inclusive. “I have so many cute outfits that I can’t wait to wear!”

“Oh wait, my bad!” Mammon exclaims dramatically, a silly grin on his face. “Looks like it’s only for married couples. Guess I’ll just take MC then, sorry guys!”

PDA turns up by 10000000%

Man is a touchy demon by default, so in private (now that you’re married) he finally has the courage to quietly cuddle you the way he’s always wanted to

But bring him into public?

Oh boy

You cannot get him to stop touching you. Ever.

There is always a hand on your butt, or two arms around draped around your neck, or a single arm linked with your arm, but no matter what, Mammon makes sure that you guys are touching and that you are intimate

The only time you’re in public and he might not actively touch you is if you’re the one touching him - and holy hell, when you do, this demon melts in your hands

LOVES it when you get possessive. Man wants you to be greedy with him, just like he is with you, so if you yank his attention away from other demons in a fit of jealousy, he’ll just find it hot

Tangibly, the nature of your relationship hasn’t changed much after marriage. You both still live in the House of Lamentation (though you have moved into his room) he’s still in debt (but things are better than before, and Lucifer doesn’t shout as much), and he still has an only slightly unhealthy obsession with Goldie (fixed only by the fact that you have told him that no, he should not sleep clutching his credit card like a teddy bear)

But inside, marriage means everything to this demon

Man was assertive before, but never confident, ya know? All those big, fancy words were more of a coverup for his insecurity after being made fun of for so long

But now?

His confidence is real

And because of it, being around him is actually easier. He doesn’t need to call himself The Great Mammon or remind you to come to him when you need protecting - because at last, he believes those words

Why?

Because when he falls asleep every night with his head buried in the crook of your neck, it’s to your words of praise, slowly but steadily building his confidence up

And he loves it

(Bonus:) When he proposed, he proposed with ten rings because “you’re better than everyone else so you deserve more rings than everyone else”

Leviathan

Sigh

This man really tried to talk you out of marrying him

Of course, by that time the wedding date was already final and everything ,so you shut him up with a firm whack on the back of the head, but that never stops Levi from being continually insecure

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be married to you

It’s that he’s worried you’re missing out on something by being married to him

:(

Poor baby is so precious

And so insecure

At the beginning of your marriage, it takes hours to convince him that he’s not “unworthy” of your love 

Often in the morning, you’ll be able to tell that he’s having self-deprecating thoughts just by the look in his eye, so you’ll cuddle and kiss and love him for hours until it’s almost lunchtime - and only then, after hours of you reassuring him and reminding him why you love him, does he begin to believe that he isn’t a “yucky otaku”

For the remainder of the day, Levi makes sure to repay you in full - literally showering you in love as he makes you his Player 2 for every video game, going as far as to allow you to sit in his lap while he reads manga over your shoulder

And while things often reset at night - and the next morning the demon looks equally fearful about your decision to marry him, there’s no denying that the amount of time it takes to convince him that you love and want him is growing shorter and shorter

And then, one day, when Levi wakes up, he doesn’t have that look in his eyes at all

And he just straight up kisses you

This is the story of why Levi kisses you every morning, first thing in the morning (even if it’s just a forehead kiss)

Man is eternally grateful to you for bearing with him (despite you insisting that you weren’t “bearing’ with him - you were doing it out of love) while he was so hesitant and fearful, and vows to return every ounce of love tenfold

Man will do anything for you

Of course, he still prefers to stay indoors and to marathon TSL with you

But he does stop glancing away every time you praise him, and all the instances where he might have previously insulted himself now turn into simple blushes where he wraps you in a hug to hide his warm cheeks

Man is surprisingly touchy, even when he’s not fighting with other for your attention

100% sleeps best if you’re spooning him - no questions asked

(And please don’t ask questions - he’ll get so embarrassed)

And yes, after much begging him, he does finally purchase a bed for the two of you to sleep in instead of his bathtub (which is surprisingly comfy, given that you can just lay on top of Levi and cuddle him)

But yes, sometimes he will randomly lift you up in the middle of the night and carry you to the bathtub, because while there’s no chance this man is letting go of you as you sleep, he will always prefer the bathtub 

Sigh

But you love him anyway <3

Satan

No one would have thought that the Avatar of Wrath would be able to lead such a peaceful life, but the second you guys get married, that’s what things are

Peaceful

Man treats you like royalty, making sure that things are always perfect for you

Mornings are no longer spent at the dining table, but are instead spent on the small table in Satan’s bedroom, where the two of you roll out of bed every morning and lazily curl up together on the same armchair while drinking tea and coffee, chatting about whatever dreams you had

Afternoons are quiet: Satan’s nose in a book and your fingers occupied with whatever your favorite pastime is, but you guys are always right next to each other, always touching in some way 

Evenings are calm - Satan will sometimes play a disc of your favorite human world band or will put on some music of his own preferred Devildom artists, and the two of you will simply talk until it’s nighttime and you both are sleepy

In essence, man mellows out after you marry him

And the reason?

He always feels so calm. It’s like you’ve quelled the eternal storm within his heart by marrying him, by promising that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together - and Satan hardly thinks he has any need for emotions like rage and anger when he always feels so blissfully happy with you

It becomes his favorite thing in the whole world to just pull you onto his lap and play with the ring around your finger, listening to the sound of your voice

He’s just so soft for you

Highkey wants to spend the rest of his life locked away inside his room with you, away from other people and other things that make him angry, but he will venture out into public with you because he knows that there’s value in exposing oneself to various social environments

In fact, now if he leaves the house at all, it’s usually with you by his side

His favorite place to visit is 100% the cat shelter, with the local, cozy bookstore taking its place as a close second

But this man will not hesitate to throw hands with anyone who disrespects you

It’s actually one of the reasons why he finds it so tedious to go outside - because no matter what, there’s always some foolish demon that treats you poorly, and then Satan’s disposition dictates that he can’t let that demon go home until the fool learns his place and apologizes

Of course, after the whole ordeal you guys 100% go somewhere to cheer each other up, and that’s the story of how you become the local ice cream store’s most valued customers

But Satan will always prefer being safe in his room with you, surrounded by his books and your things and everything that screams home

And are you guys secretly hiding a cat in your room?

Who knows? 

All you can say is that when the stack of “books” eternally buried under Satan’s desk sneezes, it’s not because Satan “enchanted them” to do so 

;)

Asmodeus

d e d i c a t e d 

h u s b a n d o 

Anyone can see the switch in Asmo when he settles down and marries you

Like

Man changed when you guys started dating for sure. His posts on Devilgram began featuring you, he spent money he would have spent on hair products on buying you gifts, he stopped talking about himself and began focusing on complimenting you

But now that you’re married? And shit is official?? And you’ve actually legally sworn that you want to spend the rest of your life with him???

It’s the first time Asmo cries tears of joy

Man pulls a full 180 - there’s no longer any such thing as Asmo, or even MC. No, the two of you are now a package deal - and everywhere you go, it’s Asmo AND MC

And the whole Devildom knows about you two

And really, how could they not?

Ever since Asmo made that one post on Devilgram where the two of you are posing, flashing the camera your engagement rings - every single post Asmo has made is of you

In fact, some of his posts don’t even have him in it - they’re just you

Because this boi is so smitten for you

And he wants the whole world to know it

You guys start matching everything (or everything that’s fashionable. matching t-shirts are NOT the wave, honey, so put those back)

Nail polish? Matching. Jewelry? Matching. Aesthetics? Matching.

Asmo has so much love in his heart that it literally comes pouring out in every action he does

Man will miss his beauty sleep for you if you ask him for a glass of water in the middle of the night. And better yet, he won’t even complain if you keep him up late, as long as it means he gets to hold you close and shower you in kisses

And if you thought Asmo before marriage was touchy, then you have a big surprise in for you

Asmo’s touches are no longer sexual. (Or some of them are, but only when you’re ready for it ;)) He’s now more preoccupied with the closeness that accompanies touching you, and so his skin is always brushing by yours even in the briefest of touches, because it always sends such a lovely rush of warmth to his heart whenever you touch

Everything reminds him of you

Man will send you pictures of trees, birds, flowers (honestly anything beautiful) with the caption saw this today and it reminded me of you xoxo

And though he maintains the ruse of this being completely casual, that this marriage is just another wonderful thing that’s happened to him, you know that he never stops fangirling over the fact that you’ve actually chosen him to love and marry

And yes, he was an angel born to be loved: he was the jewel of the heavens and everyone who looked upon him was instantly charmed

But to him, none of that matters

The only love he cares about is yours, and now that you’ve given it to him, you’ve literally brought heaven to him because there’s nothing in the world he would trade for this

Beelzebub

Imagine being married to Superman

That.

That is what this marriage is like.

To the rest of the world, you are literally untouchable - because the moment you marry him, Beel will not allow anyone to mistreat you

Did you think he was baby? That he was precious?

Well, you were right. But now that the two of you are married, he looks at you with that same lens of protectiveness, and he wants to shield you from all the evil in the Devildom

Man is devoted in public and in private: nothing will stop him from showcasing his love for you

Expect to be offered food at all hours of the day, to be lifted up and hugged at random, and to be given forehead kisses on the daily 

And listen, when Beel kisses you on the forehead in public, it’s not just a show of affection to show the world how much he loves you. It’s a silent threat to anyone who might hurt you - a silent warning that Beel has extended his protective domain over to you, and now anyone who messes with you is messing with him and will not be shown mercy

That’s only in public tho - in private, this man goes back to being the most precious thing in the world

So 

Many

KISSES

Contrary to public expectation, Beel is just like his younger brother in that he adores lazing around with you in bed, laying kisses across your skin for hours on end while you just sigh in bliss

He just adores the intimacy of the whole situation alongside the sensation of your smaller frame being literally enveloped by his own

His favorite thing in the whole world is laying on his side with his head resting on top of yours, your back pressed against his chest while he hugs you from behind and listens to you rant about whatever. And while this is going on, he will absolutely slide his ring off his finger and absentmindedly slide it onto yours, watching as the larger band dangles so loosely off even the thickest of your fingers

It actually opens up a whole new kink realization to him: that he adores seeing you in his things and watching the way your smaller frame is nearly swallowed up by all his clothes

And while it has always been normal for you to casually wear his shirts and walk around his room in them without anything else on, the fact that the two of you are married gives him the confidence to sneak you out of his room looking like that, where you occasionally run into his brothers. And the sight of you dressed in his clothes in front of other people awakens a side of him that he never knew existed

100% tries to get you to leave the house looking like that

“Babe, I can’t wear this outside”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not wearing any underwear beneath this and if the wind blows, then—”

“You’re not wearing any underwear?”

And then Beel realized that he really had discovered a new kink

Belphegor

The marriage no one foresaw

Nah, but fr tho

It’s not that Belphie doesn’t love you - even a blind man can tell that he’s hopelessly fallen for you

It’s just that you guys were acting like a married couple so long before you guys got married that no one thought there was any point in actually sealing the deal

And honestly, things really don’t change much after you both get married

You still sleep in the same bed, you still cuddle each other at night, you still bicker back and forth 

From a distance, it seems like the nature of your relationship is entirely unchanged, save for the fact that you both have matching bands around your ring fingers

B U T

That’s only because no one else can see how Belphie treats you in private

Where there would once be peaceful naps where he dozed off on your thighs to the feeling you playing with his hair, he now spends that time lost in slow conversations with you, their topics varying based on whatever has popped through his mind that day

Man realizes that, now that you’re his spouse, he wants to know everything about you

And he’s willing to spend all the time in the world learning these things

He’ll lie you down on the bed and play with your hair, asking you the most random questions

“Do you dislike mushrooms?”

“If you had a pet frog, what would you name it?”

“What do you think of stickers?”

Of course, that may be because your answers are utterly ridiculous

“Only if they stand over four inches”

“Fluffy”

“They’re only good if they smell good”

And for the longest time, you really only humor his questions with responses because, well, he’s your husband and you think that he just wants to get to know you better (albeit in a rather unorthodox method)

But then, one day, the two of you are casually walking through the Devildom market in preparation for it being Belphie’s turn to make dinner, and the demon selects the ingredients to your favorite dish without even consciously knowing what it is

And you realize that every question you answered was one Belphie took to heart, and that the reason he always wants to learn so much about you is so that he can use the information to be the best husband he can be

And when you figure it out, you nearly tackle Belphie to the ground in a hug, because you’re so touched

“You’re the best husband ever!” You murmur, wrapping your legs around his waist as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him like a koala as you trap him in an embrace he can’t wriggle out of

“Did you really just realize why I always ask these things?” Belphie questions, sighing as if he’s disappointed

But even he can’t hide the small grin that creeps onto his face as you hug him tighter, and you know he’s just savoring the affection. And who are you to deny him any?

Solomon

cHAoTiC

Arguably the most stressful marriage, but not for either of you: for the people around you

You guys are that couple

Things were hectic enough before, when you guys would pull pranks on the demons every time you were together. But now that you’re in love? And married??? And ALWAYS together?!?!?

RIP to everyone around you

The two of you never really seem to grow old - your energy is seemingly inexhaustible and you’ve already pranked all 72 demons that Solomon has pacts with four times over (and yes, that does include Barbatos, who has now made multiple threats to break the pact)

But, again, this is one of those instances where there’s a sharp difference between how you guys act in public vs. in private

In public, things are a hot mess. You guys are always laughing, always joking, always smiling

But in the privacy of Solomon’s bedroom, without any potential targets for pranks and any demons that you guys need to keep your guard up around, things change substantially

Contrary to public expectation, you guys are almost completely silent when you’re alone - but it’s not an awkward silence, by any means. No, the silence that you and Solomon find is nothing short of comforting, and every time you guys escape to the confines of his room, you both let out a breath neither of you realized you’d been holding

Because although you guys are strong, and arguably the most powerful team of humans in the Devildom, the fact remains that you guys are human.

And you can only let your guards fully down around each other

Nights are spent in the absence of any loud laughter or obnoxious rackets, the two of you preferring to savor the sound and comfort of silence. You guys fit together like pieces to a puzzle, and no words are necessary for the two of you to change into your nightwear and snuggle up under the same blanket, soft sighs escaping your lips the moment your skin comes into contact with one another

It’s only times like now, when there’s no one else in the world around, that you both can find true peace

And on nights like these, Solomon will just hold you close to him, sometimes pressing his forehead against yours, and he’ll stroke your sides softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin

And of course, you’ll reciprocate in full, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the man’s jaw as he continues his ministrations, sometimes letting out a quiet hum of contentment as you pull him closer

It’s a relationship where speech isn’t necessary; you guys are so in sync with each other and so helplessly in love that words only complicate things

But still, on occasion, one of you will open your mouths to disrupt the silence, and on nights like these, there’s really only one thing either of you will even consider saying

“I love you”

And if there’s one certainty in life, it’s the fact that the other will repeat the same phrase back, punctuating it with a kiss that reminds you both why you love each other so much

And just how worth it this marriage really is

Simeon

The marriage that everyone foresaw

Nah, but fr tho

This is the relationship where everyone knew about it except for you two

Even the day Simeon proposed: it was so spontaneous - he was planning on doing it the following week - but every single person who crossed paths with him could see how helplessly in love he was with you, so it shocked no one when the two of you announced the “surprise” that you were getting married

And this is arguably one of the best decisions you have ever made

In every way

Simeon’s an angel, so marriage is probably the most important to him out of everyone. He was treating you like royalty long before you two got together, but now that the two of you are married? This man CANNOT hold back. And believe him, when he says he will get you whatever you want - he will get you whatever you want

Funny part is, most of the time, this man knows what you want before you do

You’ll be diligently taking notes at the RAD library and you won’t realize that your pencil is blunt until the words are barely legible - but when you get up to find a sharpener, you’ll see that Simeon tossed one onto your desk right before he left to grab a book

You’ll wake up at three in the morning and realize you’re thirsty - but the moment you open your eyes and sit up on the bed, Simeon will already be there with that charming smile and a glass of water in his hand

You’ll be returning from a session of painting your nails with Asmo, only to realize that there’s no way you can grab your keys from your pocket without smudging the semi-dry nail polish - and Simeon will miraculously come home at that second, kissing you on the forehead before opening the front door for you

Like seriously, it’s a gift

Of course, then there comes the day where you try to return the favor, trying to study the way his eyebrows furrow as he reads his book to determine when he’s about to stop and turn on the TV instead (only for you to triumphantly hand him the remote)

And then the affection never ends and the rest of your marriage is characterized by nonstop trying to outdo each other in thoughtfulness that everyone just looks at and sighs because it’s so wholesome

And will Luke become your and Simeon’s honorary child?

Absolutely.

And does Luke hate this in every single way?

Oh yes:

“This is ridiculous! I am two thousand years older than MC! You can’t expect me to have to listen to them every time they tell me to do something! They should be listening to me!”

“Watch your language, young man,” Simeon warns. “I won’t have you talk that way in this house.”

“It’s not even a house!” Luke screams in defiance. “And I refuse! I will say what I want, when I want, and how I want!”

“That’s enough, Luke. Go to your room and think about what you’ve said until you’re ready to apologize!”

And God help Luke the day he accidentally calls Simeon “Dad,” because nothing can break the family after that moment

Barbatos

“Teach me.”

Listen, marriage isn’t a concept that demons are familiar with

They love you, so they’ll do it for your sake - but if a demon weds a human, the demon is 100% playing it by ear and desperately hoping that they’re doing things right

But Barbatos?

Nah, this man gives everything his all, and you’re more important than everything combined. So suffice it to say that when he marries you, he is committed to being the best husbando he can possibly be

And how does he go about achieving such a thing, you ask?

Why, two simple words: “Teach me.”

He asks that you be completely upfront and honest with him about what you desire, and he does everything he can to fulfill them

Things start slow, of course

You mention to him that married couples often sleep in the same bed and share a bedroom - and then he’s requested that Diavolo provide him a new room (one which doesn’t have doors that lead to other timelines) where the two of you live together

Then you talk about how married couples usually have matching wedding rings, and the next morning you find two obscenely expensive (but beautifully artistic) rings, and a wide-eyed butler asking if they’re to your liking

You explain that married couples sometimes get closer to each other by having a family pet and (bless his heart) Barbatos takes you to an aquarium the next day and the two of you bring home a pet fish

And things are slow going with Barbatos, but progress is steady

And soon, he starts to get the hang of it

You guys don’t just sleep in the same bed, he starts to pull you closer. Casual touches turn into cuddling, and then all of a sudden he can only sleep if he’s spooning you in the process

He decides that he likes it when you wear things he buys you, so he gifts you even more woefully expensive but equally stunning jewelry, until you’re always leaving your shared room with one of Barbatos’s presents adorned on your figure

And although Barbatos is too responsible to get rid of the (immortal) pet fish he bought, the two of you have a talk and then you head down to the pet store and buy an actual pet, one which you guys can touch and hug and cuddle

And before long, Barbatos doesn’t need you to teach him how to be a good husband, he realizes that most of it is instinctive; he understands that to make you happy, he really just needs to do the things that make him happy

Of course, he still approaches many things textbook style

Every morning and every night, man will whisper that he loves you - no excuses. You guys could have a fight and he will still do this

But gradually as time moves on, he sees that marriage doesn’t have to be a big, fancy show

And he starts to just savor the sensation of being helplessly in love with you

Diavolo

POWER COUPLE

No, but literally - you guys are the most powerful couple in the world

And Diavolo is living for it

You are royalty now, and Diavolo won’t let you forget that for a single second

You want a snack? That’s fine, here’s a nine-course buffet featuring food from the human world, Celestial Realm, and Devildom

Been feeling tired and want a break? No worries, the next week has been declared a newfound Devildom holiday, so rest up for as long as you want

You don’t like this specific brand of nail polish? Oh okay, there are now four hundred samples in your room to help you find one you do like

It honestly gets to the point where you have to sit Diavolo down (*cough* sit on Diavolo’s lap *cough*) and tell him that no, when you tell him you’re considering cutting your hair, he doesn’t have to hire four professional hairstylists and a consultant to help you select the style

After much discussion he agrees to talk these things out with you

And it’s the sweetest thing in the world

“Babe, can you help me get this jar? I can’t reach it.”

“Does this mean you just want me to get you the jar? Or do you want me to make it a law that all Devildom households cannot have shelves higher than the reach of the standard human height?”

“Just the jar, hon.”

“Oh”

Will never deny you anything, ever

Actually begins putting your interests in front of his own, asking Barbatos to cook your favorite meals and desserts instead of Diavolo’s own preferences because hey, food is just food, and it makes him so happy to see your face light up when you find that dinner is your favorite dish

And listen there’s one thing you need to know about: this man’s bed

Holy shit, nothing compares

It is the most comfortable thing in the world, and you’re pretty sure that even God is missing out if he hasn’t taken a nap on Diavolo’s bed because goddamn that shit is amazing

Like you love Diavolo to death but his bed is absolutely revolutionary with how comfortable it is, and you really feel like you could spend an eternity just starfished out under the covers

And of course, since you love the bed and Diavolo loves you, the two of you can spend hours just lazing around in the morning, cuddling and giggling until it’s almost lunchtime

And mornings with Diavolo are the best

Again, though, you’re royalty, now that you’re married to him. So Diavolo isn’t going to let you be woken up like a commoner. With him, there are no alarms, no loud voices, none of that obnoxious shaking you awake or any such nonsense

No, when Diavolo wakes you up every morning, it’s truly in a way fit for royalty, in a way that only he can do - a way that you honestly prefer to all the others ways you’ve been woken 

And does this include Diavolo smirking up with you every morning from between your thighs?

Absolutely.

But does that stop him from doing it every day? 

Never.