#while also being a bad mother at the same time

[sanjoongie]

ₛₙₒwₑd ᵤₙdₑᵣ

☃snowed under: be overwhelmed with a very large quantity of something, especially work.

☃Submission for the Anti Holiday Event from @lapydiaries, prompt chosen: too busy to go home

☃Rated: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

☃Genre: fluff, smut

☃Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

☃Au: non-idol, office

☃Trope: co-workers to lovers

☃Word Count: 4,493

☃Warnings: Wooyoung is a persistent menace, he also flirts while cooking, kissing, slight body worship, biting, oral (f), hair tugging, hand holding during oral 🥺, kissing with your cum on his lips, penetrative sex with a condom, slight overstim, pain kink, scratching, wooyoung is a panty thief

☃Summary: when your work makes you too busy for the holidays, or gives you any time to visit home, you gain a temporary guest in Wooyoung who is looking to chase away the holiday blues with you. But will a sentimental, intimate setting make this into more than it was meant to be?

☃Soundtrack: Stray Kids' Christmas EveL album {Happy Holidays 🥰}

You cradled your phone between your shoulder and your ear, typing out a work email on your laptop. “I know I know Mom but it’s utterly too busy. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Your mother let out a disappointed sigh and your heart hurt from the sound. “I know work comes first but I was hoping…”

“I was hoping too,” You said eagerly, trying to portray to your mother that you weren’t using work as an excuse. “But this holiday advertisement is just booming and we’ve gotten so many offers for work after Christmas. I can’t just jet off and leave my team to handle everything.”

“I know, dear,” Your mom sounded wearing but proud. “You’ll find time to call though?”

“I will, I promise.”

You said your goodbyes and hung up, rubbing your temples. What was it that you had to do next?

“Heyyyyyyy.” Wooyoung rapped his knuckles on the doorframe to your office and then upon a quick inspection that you weren’t on the phone or otherwise occupied, he collapsed onto the chair in front of you and your desk as well.

Quickly, you moved your open drink out of the way, in case Wooyoung decided to be even more dramatic, and spilled your drink. “Can I help you?” You mused.

“Why did we decide to launch a holiday campaign? I'M EXHAUSTED!” Wooyoung lamented into your desk.

“It’s extremely lucrative,” You brought up.

“Yes, but is the money worth my mental state?” Wooyoung wailed.

Project Manager was a title you held with honor while Wooyoung was your graphics designer. You tried your best to help him out by being the communication between the client and Wooyoung, but Wooyoung still had to bear most of the creative weight. He was pulling long hours at the office and you felt bad for pushing him so hard.

You tentatively patted his head and you froze when Wooyoung moaned loudly. “Uh, Wooyoung, that’s not exactly appropriate noise for being in my office.”

Wooyoung sat up, a pout pulling at his lips. “That’s the first comfort I’ve had in like 72 hours, come on!”

“At least the client has finally settled on what they would like color wise?” You offered optimistically.

Wooyoung blew a raspberry, sinking into the chair until his chin hit his chest. “For now.”

You made a noise of sympathy. “I’ll make it up to you,” You offered.

Wooyoung’s lips were lifted in a sign of dissatisfaction. “Unless you can give me extra time so I at least get to enjoy the holidays then I’m not sure how you can do that.”

You winced. “If it’s any consolation, I'm in the same camp, buddy.”

Wooyoung suddenly brightened up, sitting up in the chair. “Yeah?”

“You needn’t look so enthused,” You grumbled goodnaturedly.

Wooyoung laughed brightly and tipped his head back, covering his mouth. “No. I just mean! I’m all alone for the holidays too.”

It took you a few minutes to absorb that information and to understand why Wooyoung would be excited about you being alone too. “Oh no,” You said, putting your hands up. “Absolutely not.”

Wooyoung frowned and began to whine. “What do you mean no? It could be fun. Come on!”

As much as you were a very hands on person in your job life, it took a lot out of your social battery. So when you clocked out, you enjoyed the solitude and silence of your home. It gave you a headache even imagining Wooyoung in your home for even a 24 hour period. You began to rub your eyebrow in worry.

“I’ll be the best guest, the very very best,” Wooyoung promised. He took your hand into both of his and clasped it warmly. “Plus, I hear you’ve got a nice place. It’s probably nothing like the cramped bachelor I’ve got.”

“Wooyoung…” You tried to tug your hand back, but Wooyoung had a very firm grip on you.

“You said you’d make it up to me!” Wooyoung pouted with his eyes now, making them big and wet and pleading up at you.

You sighed heavily. “Fine. I am a woman of my word.”

Fast forward to the week of Christmas, specifically Christmas Eve. Wooyoung landed on your doorstep bright and early, much to your not-an-early-bird chagrin.

You invited him in and it was a whirlwind as Wooyoung typically emulated. His mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. He twirled around as he took in the second floor balcony and your eight foot tall Christmas tree. “Your place is gorgeous!” He yelled.

You grasped the back of his jacket, that was currently only being held up in the crook of his elbows, and pulled it off to hang up. “Thank you, Wooyoung. Now--”

Wooyoung was already in your state-of-the-art kitchen, rummaging through your cupboards. “Do we need to go to the grocery store? It doesn’t look like you have flour. You do have sugar, that’s a good sign. We’ll need coloring and sprinkles and--”

“Wooyoung!” You shouted.

Your graphic designer paused, eyes on you, mid-grab of a mixing bowl you didn’t even remember you had. “What?”

“Why are you tearing apart my kitchen?” You screeched.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh,” Wooyoung drew out the syllable like his tongue needed to catch up with his brain. “Because we’re going to make Christmas yummies?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “It’s the holidays!” you protested. “We should be resting. Ordering take out. Maybe watching some movies?”

Wooyoung frowned like you just told him Santa wasn’t real. “But I had this whole plan. Making homemade hot cocoa and dipping Frosty the Snowman cookies in them!”

You rubbed your face with your hand. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung rounded your island and grabbed your two hands between his again. “I promise it’ll be fun. Come on. Don’t you want some holiday cheer in here?”

Somehow you let Wooyoung talk you into going to the grocery store, even though it was chilly and you hated the cold. But Wooyoung’s enthusiasm drew you like a moth to a flame. So you let him tug you through the rows, as he grabbed ingredients for his grand master plan.

“What about Christmas dinner?” Wooyoung wondered.

“Wooyoung… there’s only the two of us. Surely you don’t want a turkey too?!” You said, flabbergasted.

Wooyoung laughed, high pitched and throwing his head back, just like in your office. People looked over at you and you felt your cheeks heat up. “We can do something smaller. Come on. It’s the least I can do for you, since you took me in. Otherwise, I might just be heating up a microwave dinner in my tiny bachelor.”

Your mouth opened and closed. “Okay.”

Wooyoung bit down on his lower lip, eagerly eyeballing you. “Yeah?”

You breathed in deeply and let it out with a gusty sigh. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Impulsively, Wooyoung brought your hands to his lips and he gave them a loud smacking kiss on the back of them. “You won’t regret it!”

Your mouth dropped as Wooyoung dashed down the aisle, his boots squeaking against the linoleum as he took the corner quickly. Did your coworker just kiss your hands?

“Woo-Wooyoung!” You shouted at him.

“We need peanuts!” Wooyoung shouted.

You pushed the cart full of baking supplies already and attempted to follow the lightning bolt that was named Wooyoung.

Back at your house, you sat on your couch, leaning over the back, watching as Wooyoung took over your kitchen. He prepared everything mise en place, carefully measuring and setting out various plates and bowls of ingredients. Once he was ready, and he turned on the oven, his eyes glittered as he looked at you.

“I’m missing something,” He announced.

“Oh no, did we forget something?” You worried, looking around, hoping it was still in a grocery bag.

Wooyoung grabbed an apron from a bag on a chair and walked steadily towards you. “I need a sous-chef.”

“Oh, Wooyoung, I don’t--”

Wooyoung ignored you. He was behind you, reaching around and tying an apron around your waist. You held in your breath as Wooyoung finished the knot at the small of your back. He put his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. “I’ll guide you through everything.”

A shiver slid down your spine. You mentally smacked yourself. There was no need to have any dirty throughts while Wooyoung simply meant you didn’t have to worry about fucking up his Christmas baking. Right?

Wrong.

Wooyoung had his arms around you the majority of the prepping. If anything needed to be cut up, his hands were around yours, showing the proper way to cut. If you had the rolling pin, he was leaning with you as pie dough was flattened. He made sure your hands were properly floured. He mixed cookie dough with you in your mysterious mixing bowl, feeding a piece of cookie dough and chocolate chunks into your mouth.

That was your last straw. “I need a break,” You said, breaking Wooyoung’s seemingly magic hold on you.

“Why why why, what’s wrong?” Wooyoung’s brown, wet eyes followed you as you put the island between him and you.

“Bathroom break,” You lied through your teeth and made a beeline for your upstairs bathroom, the one connected to your bedroom.

You pushed the door closed behind you and raised your hand to your lips. You swore you could still feel his fingers brushing against your lips as he--you slapped your cheeks with both hands, hoping to wake yourself from whatever dreamland you were in right now. What the actual fuck was going on right now?

You ran the water next and had splashed your face a few times before a loud knock on the door scared the shit out of you, making you jump in the air.

“Hey, are you okay?” Wooyoung’s voice filtered through the wood.

“Yeah!” You shouted back. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You seemed a little flushed down there. You aren’t coming down with anything, are you? I could pivot and make chicken soup if you need it.”

You sighed loudly. Wooyoung was simply a touchy-feely guy. He cared and he gave. You were looking way too fucking deep into everything. Whatever you were feeling, needed to be reeled back.

You opened the door and pasted a cheerful smile on your face. “No, I’m fine. Like I said, bathroom break. Why did you follow me up here anyways? Don’t you have cookies to check on?”

Wooyoung rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, like he was holding himself back. “I’ve got a timer for that.”

You waited for Wooyoung to turn to the side so that you could leave your bathroom but he didn’t budge. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s eyes flitted across your face and you weren’t sure what he was trying to find there. This whole situation felt weird. You felt like Wooyoung was waiting for you to say or do something, but you didn’t know what that was. You let out a sigh and moved past Wooyoung.

“I’m going to go find a movie to put on. Are you more of a The Santa Clause guy or The Christmas Story?”

Your body brushed by Wooyoung’s and in that moment you learned exactly what Wooyoung had been waiting for. His arms circled behind your back and stopped you from moving past him completely. His eyes remained studying your face and his Adam’s apple bobbed in apprehension.

“Boss, do you know why I’m here today?” He asked, his tongue flickering over the freckle on his lip.

You froze. “Uh, because otherwise we’d both be alone on Christmas?”

“No,” Wooyoung murmured. “So that I could get closer to you.”

You laughed nervously. “Well, this is pretty close.”

“Not close enough,” Wooyoung whispered and then leaned forward to press his lips against yours.

His tongue followed the seam of your lips until you opened up for him. Then it tangled with your tongue, as if he was searching out of the taste of the sweet cookie dough you had just consumed minutes ago. It wasn’t until Wooyoung moaned softly into your mouth that you pushed at his shoulders and broke the kiss.

“What was that?” You whispered.

“That was a kiss, Boss,” Wooyoung teased.

“No, seriously!”

“You didn’t like it?”

You didn’t know how you felt. Your mind was reeling with your reality. Did you graphics designer just kiss you with tongue? And did you like it?

A loud buzzer sounded through your loft and then Wooyoung yelped in response. “The cookies!” He shouted and bounded out of your bedroom. And then ran back to the doorframe. “We’re not done with this conversation!” He shouted at you and then ran downstairs.

You were half tempted to lock your bedroom door until Wooyoung threatened to break down the door but you didn’t want to bother the entire building with your drama. So you slowly but surely moved out of your bedroom and down the stairs into the living room.

Wooyoung was moving his chocolate chunk cookies to a cooling rack. His eyes found yours and then he snatched a cookie. “They’re soft and gooey, you should have one.”

You stared at Wooyoung as he broke a cookie apart and then fed it to you. And when you didn’t open your mouth immediately, he said “ah!” loudly until you did. The cookies were perfect. Just like Wooyoung’s typical work.

Wooyoung smiled happily as you chewed and then zoomed back behind the island to decorate the Frosty cookies from earlier.

“So?” Wooyoung asked, without lifting his eyes from his work.

“The cookies are perfect,” You said cautiously.

Wooyoung sent you the most bald-face look, clearly expressing he knew you were avoiding his actual question.

“I’m still processing,” You said.

“I could kiss you again if you need more data,” Wooyoung grinned wickedly.

“I’m turning on a damn movie,” You grumbled.

Wooyoung blew a raspberry at your response but finished his job nonetheless. He made hot cocoa. He slowly heated up the milk, melted the dark chocolate with a double boiler, and whisked his own whip cream.

By the time the intro for The Santa Clause was done, Wooyoung was bringing over his festively decorated Frosty the Snowman cookies and two mugs of hot cocoa. You dug in and you couldn't help but moan out loud at how good the cookies were with the hot cocoa.

“See,” Wooyoung sent you a knowing look, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” You couldn't help but say quietly.

Wooyoung froze mid dip of his cookie. “Are you a serial killer or something I don’t know about?”

Now it was your turn to send him a dirty look. “No but I don’t have any time to entertain a relationship, Wooyoung. You know better than anyone how much my work life consumes my time.”

“Yeah I do know,” Wooyoung agreed.

Wooyoung put his own cookie and mug down, prying the same items from your hands as well, and putting them on the coffee table. “Do you think that information changes how I feel?”

You couldn't help but gasp. “Wooyoung, shut up.”

Wooyoung shook his head. “No, I won’t. We work together, so that’ll make up for the time we don’t get at home. And don’t you know how healing it is to even sleep in the same bed as the one you--?”

You pressed a finger to Wooyoung’s lips. “Stop that.”

Wooyoung gently set his teeth into the tip of your finger playfully. “Don’t tempt me with a good time,” he said with a husky voice.

“Wooyoung!” You hadn't meant for his name to come out as a whine but it did. You could feel your resolve crumbling.

“I can take care of you,” Wooyoung said, his face completely open. “I can cook, I can fu--”

“No, No! Wooyoung, this is ludicrous. Work romances are notoriously messy. What happens if it doesn’t work out? We work too closely together. Plus, if we sleep together, you’ll always look at me like I’m a present to unwrap for you and I cannot handle that on the daily.”

Wooyoung broke out into giggles. “You’re the boss. Who’s going to yell at you if you’re the one that got caught doing it in your office?”

“We are not doing it in my office, Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung pushed you to your back on the couch. “Can we do it here?” He cocked his head cutely.

Goosebumps littered your skin. You could barely handle Wooyoung begging to go on constant coffee runs at work, how did you think you could deny him this?

“No, we cannot do it here,” You whispered, your throat tight with lust.

“I’ll make you a fresh cup of cocoa when we’re done,” Wooyoung promised, leaned down.

Wooyoung once again stole your breath and a kiss from your lips. His lips pressed against yours and then after a few smooches, his lips travelled along your jaw and then down your neck. You were craning your neck to give him room before you realized he was enjoying himself a little too much by sucking a mark there.

“Jung Wooyoung,” You growled, slapping a hand over the mark. “You did not!”

Wooyoung looked pleased with himself. “I did.”

“You must be stopped,” You said in exasperation.

Wooyoung’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I don’t want you to tell me to stop until you get overstimulated.”

“Excuse you?!” You squawked.

Wooyoung was dissolving into giggles again, all the while pushing your sweater up to reveal your stomach and bra. His lips kissed along the tops of your breasts, following the curve of your breast until he met your sternum. He gently but thoroughly kissed down your stomach before his eyes flicked back up to meet yours again.

“I’ve been a good boy. I let you taste my cookies. Let me taste you now.”

You sucked in a breath, only feeding Wooyoung’s ego even more. Still, he patiently waited until you nodded stiffly and then he hooked his fingers under your sweats and underwear, and pulled them off until you were bare from the waist down.

Your heart beat out of your chest as he settled between your legs and placed sweet kisses along your mound. You could feel yourself warming up for the graphics designer. He bit down into the flesh part of your thigh before soothing it with his tongue and kisses.

When Wooyoung ate you out, you felt like you were an ice cream sandwich. His tongue delicately licked your inner folds like he was truly gathering your wetness on his tongue to taste you. His eyes would shoot back to yours every once in a while, to gauge how you were but you were simply a whimpering mess, biting down on your finger to keep your moans from getting louder.

Wooyoung tugged on your arm until you let go of your finger. “Wanna hear how good I’m doing,” He mumbled and then went back to business.

“Oh fuck,” You cursed as Wooyoung began to kitten-lick your clit.

One hand dove into his hair to hold him in place and your other scratched against the cushion below you. Wooyoung immediately pressed his fingers in between yours, just as he flattened his tongue against your clit, knowing you’d need the support.

“Wooyoung, wait!” You whined. “I’m gonna--jesus!”

Your thighs shook as your orgasm ripped through you embarrassingly early. It had been a while since you had gotten such good head.

“Oh fuck that’s hot,” Wooyoung mumbled before he was climbing up your body to kiss you again.

You could taste yourself on his tongue and his lips and you shuddered at how dirty it was.

“See, told you I could take care of you,” Wooyoung whispered, lips pink and swollen from kissing you and eating you out.

You swallowed loudly. “You did.”

“Let me fuck you on the couch,” Wooyoung pleaded, pressing his head to your forehead charmingly.

“You better have a condom,” You scowled.

“Never leave home without them!” Wooyoung proclaimed.

He stood up and reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a condom package. He bit down on the packaging and then began to undo his pants.

“Wooyoung…oh god.” You went from scolding Wooyoung to moaning about the state of his lower half. He had barely pushed his pants down to his thighs when you saw his cock pressed up against his black boxer briefs. He was thick.

Wooyoung pressed his lips together as he smoothed the condom over his length. “I’m going to stuff you, lovely, just you wait.”

You pushed yourself up from the couch, sitting up the proper way, facing Wooyoung. “If you make some corny joke about me being a turkey, I swear to god,” You threatened.

Wooyoung threw back his head and laughed; the same laugh that had been entertaining you from the office to the grocery store and now in your living room. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat. Whether it was its charm or its owner, you weren’t quite sure, but it always made you react.

“Nah, I just wanna fuck you good,” Wooyoung admitted.

“Shut up,” You whispered, feeling your face heat up again.

“Gladly,” Wooyoung whispered huskily.

He slipped between your legs, rubbing up against your wet folds. His lips pressed against yours, sensually kissing you while he slicked up his condom-covered cock. It was a bit of a job working himself deeper inside of you. You were tighter once you’ve come, however, Wooyoung sounded like he was enjoying every moment of it.

“Sucking me in, jesus,” Wooyoung grunted.

“I am not,” You hissed.

Wooyoung grinned in response. He scooped a leg under one arm and bend pulled it up so he could get a better angle inside of you. “Your pussy is greedy for me.”

“Wooyoung!” You scolded him under your breath.

Wooyoung started to rock his hips against yours, groaning at the sensation. You squirmed a bit as your sensitive clit rubbed against his taut stomach.

“I got you,” Wooyoung cooed at you, cupping your face with his free hand.

“It's too much,” You whined.

Wooyoung’s grin couldn't get any wider. “Want me to stop?”

You couldn't help but pout. “No, I just--” You moaned as he grounded against you again.

“You like a little pain with your pleasure?” Wooyoung lifted an eyebrow at you. “That’s cool. Me too.”

“I--”

You dug your fingers into Wooyoung’s shoulders as his hips swiveled against yours again. Wooyoung hissed and then he chuckled. “There you go.”

You wrapped your legs around Wooyoung’s waist, bucking your hips and meeting his thrusts. You could feel your wetness smearing against Wooyoung’s pelvis but you couldn't give a crap because it felt so good.

You dug your teeth into the nape of his shoulder next and Wooyoung gasped. “Fuck yes.”

The both of you soon unraveled together. You sweet whines intermingled with Wooyoung’s loud, lusty moans. Wooyoung panted into the crook of your shoulder for a moment until his softening cock made him slip out of you and then you both groaned at the sensation. The condom remained and you watched in utter horror as his cum spilled out of the condom and onto your couch.

“Ah, shit,” Wooyoung laughed, eyes looking around for a cloth.

He pulled his pants and underwear up and as he jogged into the kitchen to wet a clean tea towel.

You winced as you pulled the condom out of you and tied it up. You left the couch to throw out the condom. You tugged your shirt back down and looked for where Wooyoung had tossed your--

“Here,” Wooyoung intercepted you with your pants.

You opened your mouth to address what exactly just happened but Wooyoung’s phone went off.

He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it without pause. “Hey, Mom.”

Oh god. If you two hadn't come any earlier, you would have been interrupted by his mom calling. That was--

Wooyoung cupped his mouth over his phone. “No, I told you--uh, what? My location is different?” Wooyoung chuckled nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Wooyoung held his phone away from his ear as his mother screeched through the speaker. “Why didn’t you just bring the girl home instead of telling me you were too busy with work? Don’t you think I’d want to meet her?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, shot anxiously to you, and then his lips pressed his cheeks back. “Mom. Seriously, we’re swamped with work, there’s no time.”

“Well, you make sure you make time to call your family tomorrow, okay? I don’t care how into this girl you are, your family--”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because Wooyoung dashed into the downstairs half bath and closed the door with his foot.

You sympathized at least about the mother disappointed in her child not coming home for the holidays.

At least it gave you time to put your pants on. You frowned when you didn’t find your underwear, however.

Wooyoung must have finished up his call because he came out with an ‘aw shucks’ look on his face. “I’m sorry about that. My mom is--”

“Your mom,” You mused out loud.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung laughed and then his face dropped. “Listen, there’s no pressure, we can just enjoy this and--”

“Eat dinner? Finish the movie?” you offered.

Wooyoung’s eyes scanned your face except this time you knew what he was looking for: Wooyoung wanted to know that everything was okay. You had just been fed and thoroughly fucked. What wasn’t there to like? “Yeah?”

“Yes, Wooyoung, I’m not going to kick you out of my place,” You deadpanned. “Geez, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“A harsh task mistress who's hard to impress,” Wooyoung supplied.

You laughed under breath, that was part a sigh. “You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

“Wait--hey!” Wooyoung protested. “Surely I wasn’t that bad of a lay!”

“No, for making a cum stain on my couch,” You replied.

“I didn’t even get a chance and I’m already in the dog house?” Wooyoung muttered to himself.

It was your turn to throw your head back and laugh, clutching your stomach and tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, it’s not that funny,” Wooyoung pouted, cleaning up his mess.

“Let’s see after supper,” You relented.

You could practically see Wooyoung’s ears perk up. “I’ll blow your pants off a second time.”

“Wooyoung,” You said his name in warning.

Wooyoung looked pleased at your response. “Maybe the third time I can convince you to let me sleep in the bed with you.”

It looked like you weren’t going to be able to shake off this man and you felt a little bit better for it. You two could fill the void each other was feeling after working so hard. And maybe you’d get to finish the movie too.

“As soon as you tell me where my underwear are,” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Wooyoung grinned. “They’re mine now.”

“Wooyoung!”

[scullygazer]

Hi everyone! I hope you all are having an amazing holiday season 😊 This is for the Poang Pals Secret Santa 2024 gift exchange and my giftee is @sagan-starstuff 😊 I really hope you love it! The image makes sense with the fic, I swear 💚❤️

Mischief and Mistletoe

Rating: G

December 23rd, 1994

Fox Mulder hated parties. It didn't matter what they were ... birthdays, weddings, bachelor parties for co-workers, it was all the same to him.

Dana Scully wasn't fond of parties either. While she was used to them having come from a fairly large family that liked to host them all the time when she was growing up, as an adult, she didn't mind stepping back and declining invitations every now and then.

Neither one of them would consider the "FBI Annual Christmas Celebration" as a great way to spend a Friday evening after a long week of work. Both of them would rather be home, watching a good movie and ordering a pizza (Mulder's ideal evening) or taking a long bath with a glass of wine and a book (Scully's idea of a good night).

Here they were however, sitting at a long table with fellow agents conversing over drinks and Hors d'Ouerves. Scully nibbled on a few crackers on her plate and sipped slowly on a glass of merlot. She was switching to water in a few minutes, knowing she had to drive home. Meanwhile, Mulder was staring at his bottle of beer, attempting to pay attention to the "hilarious" story of Agent Thompson's golden retriever stealing a pie the past Thanksgiving but not succeeding. He envied Scully's ability to at least look interested though he sensed her mind was likely elsewhere too.

Scully noticed how bored Mulder looked. The two had been lucky to find two empty seats next to each other. She was at the point however where she was thinking of reasons to get up and leave this thing. It was almost 9 PM. She had used the restroom excuse twice as had Mulder. Luckily, three other agents ended up deciding to call it a night and it was a good chance for her to politely make her exit. She lightly tapped Mulder's foot under the table and subtly nudged his knee.

"Well, I need to get going" Mulder said, standing up and putting his bottle in the recycling bin. Scully followed him.

"Good night, happy holidays!" she said as she left the table.

"See you next year!" one agent said to them. "Haha" Mulder thought. Like he hadn't already heard that one a million times. He was surprised to not see Scully rolling her eyes but he also knew she was far too polite to do that.

As they walked away, Scully thought she heard somebody say her name. She peeked over her shoulder to see two agents whispering and one was pointing at Mulder. Despite it not having been very long since she began working with Mulder and only about a month since she had returned to the FBI after being in the hospital, she was very familiar with the rumors surrounding them every day. "Mrs. Spooky" she would hear others calling her when they didn't realize she was listening.

"Whatever" she thought as she headed into the basement to grab her coat and purse. She had stopped caring a long time ago. If that was all they had to say about her, she didn't think it was that bad.

Mulder wasn't bad either. She had heard about the lengths he had gone to after Duane Barry took her from her apartment and before she found herself in a hospital bed with wires attached to her whole body and her mother and sister surrounding her as she began to wake up and come to. Despite having no memory of how she ended up there, she had remembered the moment Mulder had walked into the room. Not a lot of people would do all that for a coworker, she knew once he told her all about it.

He was different from anybody else she had ever met.

He was special.

Dana Scully was also not someone who didn't plan things through. She was always known among her family, friends, and colleagues as somebody dependable and reliable.

However, she also knew that some risks are worth taking. On her way out, she decided to make one pit stop before getting in the elevator.

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

When she entered their basement office, Mulder was collecting his belongings and looking for his coat. He could have sworn he left it by the door, maybe he put it on a chair? It wasn't on his desk either.

"Scully, I think I deserve extra presents this year. I was a very good boy and I resisted several urges to just walk out or tell Skinner I had an annoyance-induced headache" he said.

"Well", Scully thought. She had her own little gift for him. They had agreed to not exchange anything more than cards this year. Everything he had done for his this past year was already the greatest gift a girl could get.

"Mulder, I did something a little naughty before leaving the party" she said, with a sly smile

"Oh, Scully" Mulder said, curiously "I didn't know you were such a rebel"

Scully reached into the pocket of her tan blazer and pulled out a small piece of mistletoe

She giggled miscevously as she stood on her toes attempting to hold it over Mulder's head. Since she was struggling to do so due to her height (even with her heels), Mulder plucked it out of her hand and placed it over her head.

She turned bright red. Then she went in for the kiss. He met her rosy lips and kissed her back. After a few moments, they pulled away slowly and smiled at each other somewhat shyly.

"Merry Christmas, Scully" Mulder eventually said

"Merry Christmas, Mulder"

----

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy this and have a very Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and an amazing new year! ☺️☺️☺️

Also... I had to check just because I'm a bit of a perfectionist and December 23rd in 1994 just happened to be a Friday so it worked out very well for that 🤭

[lightlycareless]

Merry Christmas y'all!! I hope you had a wonderful time with your loved ones ❤️

I didn't get to enjoy this holiday that much because of... women issues. iykyk But still, I got to finish this and play some games so it wasn't all that bad :)

There's another piece that I also intend to upload soon, probably tomorrow lol but the bottom line is we getting two Christmas specials :> which I hope you enjoy!!

warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya are married and naomi already exists, however, it's not entirely centric on them. Mai and Maki's mom is the protagonist here :')

Happy reading!

“If you go through with that change, you’ll be over the budget.”

Junko doesn’t know why she even bothers warning you so when it always ends up the same way: you go over your pre-approved spending limit, the elders question you about it, Naoya covers for it—or more like demands them to back off and pays for the difference.

In fact, he seemed to encourage it too, given how he never reproached you about it and even admired your ill choices—certainly unbefitting of your responsibilities as the future Lady of the House.

More so since there’s a new motivator behind your actions this time around.

“But it’s going to look so pretty, right?”

If she already thought the enthusiasm you had for your first Christmas at the Zen’in estate was too much, preparing everything for your daughter’s first celebration was beyond her expectations.

“It’s Naomi’s first Christmas, surely you must understand why I need to make this extra special for her.”

No. she doesn’t. She didn’t even do it for her own daughters, did you really expect her to suddenly grow empathetic to your cause?

The best thing you could do for everyone was stop, at least then she wouldn’t have to deal with complaints about the bad job she’s supposedly doing by guiding you through your new responsibilities.

But you’d become stubborn, just like your husband, marking this as the newest bane of her existence for all eternity to come.

“Hurry, Naoya! We’re just waiting for you! I already have everything set up so let’s go!” you urged whilst holding Naomi with one arm, pulling Naoya onto the main garden with the other—and he laughs alongside you while doing so, after days of endless teases, how could he not be thrilled by your surprise too?

“Careful, my love. I’m not confident our dumpling enjoys being jolted like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You lament, immediately glancing down at your precious baby —just short of a year old— dressed up in a cozy polar bear fleece onesie that made her look even cuter. Alongside her big, round, golden eyes that told you there was nothing to worry about, for she was equally excited to see what you had in store for her. “My adorable princess, are you ready for your first Christmas?”

The baby gurgles, giving the two the most adorable sound capable of curing all ailments in the world, if possible.

“It’s our first Christmas as a family too.” Naoya notes, and your heart flutters at the thought.

“It is.” You respond, looking up to him with pure adoration—unconditional love. As well as partial disbelief, like you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that one of your biggest dreams had come true.

A family.

Composed of a baby girl who couldn’t be any more perfect, a beautiful, sweet little thing that wholly compasses your love for Naoya.

And a husband, loyal, dedicated, protective—who wants nothing but your well-being, and of course, your love. Which he has more than enough to return.

You didn’t care for what Naoya had gotten you this year, not even dared to wonder, because the best gift you could’ve obtained was already in your arms.

“You’re making me cry, Naoya, that’s not fair!” You pout, he chuckles.

“Then don’t, just think about how happy Naomi is going to be when you reveal her surprise.”

Alongside the gathering crowd composed of Mai and Maki, whom you promptly invited the moment this idea crossed your mind, eagerly tugging at their mother’s sleeve as they wished to keep up with you.

“Come on, mom! We’re going to miss it!” Maki insisted. “I want to be there when it happens!”

“You two should be in bed by now!” Junko scolds, gently fighting back against their daughters, but ultimately failing against their unparalleled enthusiasm.

“We’ll go to bed as soon as we see it, we promise!” Mai quickly arranges. “Please, mom? I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

At her unwanted impotency, Junko naturally stretches to find a culprit behind their erratic behavior and make them responsible!

Or more like she wants to directly confront you for being their obvious prime instigator and demand you to stop filling their minds with senseless ideas, less you desired to suffer the consequences!

But of course, it all takes her back to the initial point. There is no use in her frustrations if by the end of the day she’ll just get the same result: you’ll promise to be more careful with your actions, ask the twins to be more obedient towards her… and let your enthusiasm get the best of you once more, completely disregarding the Zen’in’s inner workings.

So instead of wasting her time, she simply makes them promise to go to bed soon after you do whatever it is that you have planned and move on; arriving just a few seconds after you and taking their respective positions, the best seats as you’d put it.

And once ready yourself, you’d look over to your staff, signaling them to begin.

A wide smile on your face as the results of all your careful planning comes to life, bright colored lights decorating the garden, from the flowers to the trees, in all its festive glory—in such hypnotizing manner that those present could only gasp in awe at its beauty.

But if that wasn’t enough, you also made sure to pace everything correctly; a combination of dazzling entertainment that proved to be a complete success given the way your enthralled daughter bubbled whenever her favorite color appeared, or when encouraging her to do so.

“I think our little princess likes it.” Naoya declares, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“I knew she would.” You murmur proudly while resting your head over his shoulder. “And you? Do you like it?”

“I love it, just like everything you do.”

Junko looks away the moment two lean in for a kiss, just in time to avoid any further embarrassments—as if she wasn’t struggling enough with her unruly daughters and your senseless spending.

But even amongst all these inner conflicts, a part of Junko cannot keep her away from looking at your work. The one she previously disregarded as unnecessary, but now, before it’s intricacy… she can’t help but feel calm. Nostalgic even, though this sentiment wasn’t uncommon during these festivities.

Yet, to her it was. Almost intriguing that someone like her, that has never taken interest in commemorating such things in the past, less so after getting married, could feel such a way.

Though one quick glance at her daughters, the beaming, wide-eyed children that were equally enthralled as Naomi in the face of your celebration, would provide the answer. Because just like your child, they too were essentially celebrating their first Christmas together. As a family.

After brief consideration, perhaps finding it unnecessary to cut short this harmless moment, Junko decides to let her guard down and enjoy the rest of the evening. Soon captivated by the following fireworks, courtesy of the nearby village, which she was never aware could be seen from there.

Not that it mattered to ponder about such a possibility now, not when she allowed her mind to diverge instead into a universe where enjoyable moments like these were an everyday norm—and not an example of defiance.

ugh I needed to give them the spotlight :') idk why it just came to me; but omg hahaha I'm sorry if y'all were expecting something a bit lighthearted but I promise the other oneshot I'm working on is 🙈 just needed to get this one out of my system.

Now, without anything else to add, I hope you have happy holidays!! Thank you so much for your support 🥺❤️ really, I could not be here without you guys.

Take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[spotlightlowlife]

Grownups not talking

Why did IMP have to return to work?

The episode before they destroyed everything why even was this? They didn't even know what they were being charged with and they have never been secretive? and attempted to flee. Was this the night before or not?

They return to the office which looks just fine on what I assume to be a holiday, reluctantly take a job but at the same time on this day a first happens, Loona also wants to go out and work, but at the same time nobody likes the client who unlike the other clients we have seen here and there, they don't bother to listen to. Stolas's gloomy self is there and the story hits too close to home, so this woman is a fill in for Stella who nobody there actually knows but Stolas, but this is enough to be upset with her?

They take the job and immediately Blitzø sees the gay, male couple with two very young, nowhere near Octavia and Loona's ages daughters and this too hits close to home, this could be him, Stolas and their daughters, even though Stolas is not happy with the humble living Blitzø has put him up in and Blitzø doesn't know Octavia, if this fantasy even suits her and if she would be happier with her mother in her own home. With the support of Moxxie they lose work for willing Loona and Millie and put them in a position where they can't just get it done themselves even if they wanted to. This will never matter.

The scene isn't even cute, the sinner is very irate and in a hurry, she gives the impression of her issues with her husband being fresh, only for us to see that he has moved on, so while he's gushing over his new squeeze a little girl has lost her mother, and how we don't know, but who cares about that, this couple are living the dream whoever they are.

Meanwhile Stolas is also making the business look bad, his attitude is foul towards the customer IMP chose to take, now his gloomy and guilty behaviour has morphed to aggression behind Blitzø's back. None of these points will matter.

Now Blitzø returns and doesn't need to have a professional and grown conversion about why he won't take the job, he now gets another excuse to be mad and avoid responsibility, over an erotic fanfic in a journal being criticized for being rubbish?

Stolas storming out in frustration and setting off to see his daughter could easily have happened at Blitzø home or at the many outdoor spots he was taken to and actually mistreated at, rather than at Blitzø job which he needs, just to place blame on some totally random woman. Did we really need this scapegoat? No Is this not yet another missed opportunity to show us how they deal with issues? Yes

This plays out like childish 'feel good' movies where yelling "screw you" to your boss then quitting and being justified in leaving your spouses for someone else because she's a bitch and this new love interest is fun.

[blushblushbear]

still thinking about this FUCKING

I THINK HE WOULD CRY OVER SOUND OF MUSIC

So, this one's kinda old so I'm gonna give a run down of the general plot.

So Maria is a nun whose really bad at being serious cause she's such a head in the clouds free spirit, so the nunnery gets her a job as the care-taker of the Von Trapp children.

The Von Trapps are a rich Austrian family with a BUNCH of kids, no mom and a distant father. The mother died many years ago and the father never emotionally recovered. He doesn't even sing for his children anymore as that was a thing he did together with his wife. The loss of the mother literally stole The Sound Of Music out of their lives.

Over time, Maria gets to know the children and both grow to love each other. The Father and Maria also grow to love each other and end up a family again together. (She brought the music and joy back into their home)

SO.

while all this is going on a thing that is bubbling in the background is the nazi forces slowly overtaking Austria.

It comes to a point where it is no longer safe for the Von Trapp family to stay in their homeland.

So at the end of the play, they are made to put on this big concert, because by that point they're known as this large aristocratic family full of amazing singers.

The song the father sings at that concert is the same song he sang earlier in the show-- the song he used to sing to his children and the song that let's the world know he's letting music back into his life; Edelweiss. A lullaby from his home country about the wild flowers that bloom on it's hillsides.

He sings it at this concert as a mix of a few things-- a show that he stands with Austria, a memorial for the Austria he loved and that is being taken over by force, a goodbye to his homeland, and a hope that one day his family will be able to return home-- to the home they've known and loved all their lives.

Yeah, maybe I'm just projecting again, but I think Fuyu would cry at that.

and honestly-- Edleweiss is just such a lovely song regardless. (also fun fact, the name means noble white, so Fuyu might like that too)

any ideas on what other Musicals can make this grown ass man cry?

I call dibs on Wicked due to him having some hope that if he did die and was viewed as wicked from the rest of the world (except his own clan obviously) there would be someone who would truly mourn for him because they knew him on a deeper level. That being Marshmallow or Shibuki in my case

this is purely for fun as a silly crackheadcannon but I’d like to hear others suggestions😈

for science!/j

[moe-broey]

Idk if I'm gonna be able to articulate this on the fly like first thing in the morning, but. I think my ENTIRE body of work is This: Examining how family ties, bonds or lack thereof, the good and bad AND ugly, seep into every facet of who we are and how we come to interact with others. How sometimes, a family tie (or again, a Lack of one), will sometimes bleed into how you act and treat specific people. Will bleed into how you CONNECT with those people (or, will be the very reason you fail to do so).

HOWEVER. HOWEVER. THERE IS A DELICATE LINE. A BALANCING ACT. You CANNOT just simply attribute fanon flavored ideas of found family to such characters. That's too simple, and sometimes, is a complete disservice to the specific character you're working with. I am once again bringing up Chilchuck. YES, him being a dad Absolutely seeps into how he treats his party. But if you call him the party's dad, you're Insane. Do you know ANYTHING ABOUT THAT MAN???? He would prefer you didn't. But I digress. He strikes a fascinating balance, between having The Qualities and ESPECIALLY expressing his care for his party in a Really Specific divorced (separated.) father of three fashion, but that does Not make him a "dad friend". He's a professional. He's on business. He's going home at the end of the day, and at the end of this adventure he's thinking of setting up a shop. I wanted to keep this more vague and broad but like. The Chilchuck example REALLY DOES perfectly articulate What I'm trying to get at, here. He's the perfect encapsulation of How his family shapes him, how that bleeds into his relationships with others, vs Who he is as a person.

How we were raised, our family ties, whether you adhere to it or you've fallen FAR from the tree -- you still fell from that stupid fucking tree. It's in your blood. Literally. It gave you shape, whether you liked it or not. And sometimes some things just set off weird domino effects, that also affect us irrevocably forever.

WHICH IS. TO SAY. I have no fucking idea what I'm talking about. I'm always trying to figure that out. Found family is/can be real, you're not strictly bound by blood if you don't wanna be. BUT. The bullshit I'm constantly on, is trying to figure out how to balance all that without slotting everyone into reductive roles. I'm gay and I seek to destroy the nuclear family. Not attempt to recreate nuclear family 2.0. You CAN reconstruct What Family Is/Means from the ground up, but you have to accept that things are going to get Weird. Because you're Queer. You are fundamentally incompatible with the status quo and normalcy, the solution is NOT assimilation and palatability, the solution is to just. Get weirder. And be fluent in canon. Okay. I love you

[nebulouscoffee]

Me, attending the latest in a ridiculous number of funerals this year in the place of a childhood friend who couldn't be there, watching the lifeless body of an old lady who used to make me snacks in the kitchen when I was a kid be carted away forever while my friend's mother cries and tells me she's grateful I could be there because it felt like having the support of her own daughter, hugging her and talking reassuringly and not processing a single one of these emotions: ... I am going to write soooo much fanfiction about this

[longagoitwastuesday]

Going through the Utahim.e tag had me checking several times if at some point I had clicked on the G.ojo/Utahim.e one instead

[lizbethborden]

Oh man. Thinking so much about one of the people I worked for at the hellhole. She would get wound up and go off at me in a completely vicious way. I am not really a person who yells or gets angry in those situations, my goal is always to deescalate, so I would yes her to death rather than respond meaningfully--and the one time I did try to push back on her on something she was pissed about, she overrode me repeatedly and started accusing me of "defending" the person she was mad at (I wasn't, I agreed with her criticism, I just was a decent human being with empathy for others' situations). What I really should have done was either yelled back or walked away, but I always defaulted to yes'ing her, especially because she would wait until we were in my small, enclosed office to do it and I would have no way of getting away from her. I found out that she HATED that I would always go "Okay" and "I understand," because I would just do it and do it until she stopped, and she said it "makes people feel criticized." If you don't want to feel criticized, don't behave that way...? Between her and the owners, I got yelled at more in like 10 months of working than I did in 3 years at Starbucks.

[madesofgold]

Don't you wanna live far away from your family and their expectations sometimes and just start a new life?

[technicolorxsn]

hm.

[razrbladekiss]

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

[gloomwitchwrites]

okay okay so boys coming home off a deployment that was long ASF and they just want a hot shower, hot meal (maybe a cuppa) and some cuddles from their wifey and their wee baby. they come through the door weary and tired and oh! it’s right after bath time and baby’s all wrapped up in a fluffy animal bath towel. maybe it’s a little oversized on them (even though we KNOW these men produce 99th percentile babes) idk i just know their hearts would warm at the sight

okay. okay okay okay. Anon, you're giving me brain worms. You're making my ovaries tingle and my desire to reproduce rage so bad I want to chew on something (so like, how dare you??)

It's entirely possible that you sent this in for the imagines series (and I'll totally add it to the masterlist just in case), but I just need to ramble about this. I need to TALK about this.

Also, do y'all know that my inbox isn't just for requests? Because I'm a yapper when it comes to the written word. I do not know how to shut up.

Dad!141 ahead

(mdni for brief suggestive themes)

John Price is coming home and going full in on those snuggles. He wants wifey in one arm and baby in the other. He'll take those snuggles on the sofa, the bed, or the floor. Doesn't matter. All he wants is to be close to his family. After snuggling, that man is putting baby to bed on his own. In fact, Price insists that he does. It's a treat for him, especially since he's been gone and hasn't had the opportunity. He's missed being a father. And the hot shower? Wifey is taking that shower with him. The man is so handsy, it's likely he's making baby number two right then and there.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is kissing wifey first the moment he walks through the door. That's the love of his life. That's the mother of his child(ren). That's his best friend. Then, it's baby. The balaclava comes off once Simon comes home. It's his safe space. While he's eager to be alone with his woman, spending some quality time with his spouse and baby is more important. He's making that cuppa and settling for a brief snuggle on the sofa with the both of them. He wants to hold his wife, talk with her, enjoy his cuppa, and play with his kiddo before it's their bedtime. Afterwards? Full intimacy with wifey. In the shower? Check. While getting ready for bed? Check. In bed and most of the night? Check and check.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is going to come home and admire his wife and baby for a bit. They aren't going to know he's standing there. Wifey is rocking baby in the nursery, and Kyle is just there in the doorway, happy to be home, to return to the daily humdrum of life. He's not going to realize just how much he missed them until that very moment. This man is the definition of healthy masculinity. He's not afraid to show emotion when he goes in for that first embrace. He completely softens with his family. Endless patience. Endless love. This man loves being a husband and father.

John "Soap" MacTavish is going in for a bear hug. He's wrapping them both up in his arms at the same time. Wifey gets kisses. Baby gets kisses. Soap is absolutely snuggling with baby for a bit, pretending to chew on toes and fingers, basically trying to get every adorable giggle he can out of his child before they go down for bed. Does this rile baby up a bit and make it a little difficult to calm them down for bedtime? Sure, but it's totally worth it for him. Afterwards, his one focus is on his wife.

masterlist

[writers-potion]

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ The prince of pleasure ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle always had fun growing up and when you see each other years later, he knows just where to take your for some real fun.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ mdni, family feud, Aegon being a bad influence, making out, grinding/dry humping, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, titty sucking.

A/N: Inspired by Rhaenyra's and Daemon's adventures, and parts of dinner scene in episode 8 S1. Can you tell I miss season one :(?

Word count: 4.6k

Your heart almost came up in your throat as you descended the stairs behind your family. After the petition and the announcement of your brother's bethrotals, the king wished to spend supper with his entire family, finally reunited. This was, of course, doomed from the start. The strained and tense relationships had never really washed away. There had always been a weird dynamic between your two uncle’s and you and your brothers. But one thing was for sure, you all kind of ganged up on Aemond. He was just easy to pick on. This created a sort of mischievous and friendly dynamic between you and Aegon. You both hadn’t seen each other since the whole ‘incident’ on Driftmark. Eager to see him but also anxious were the only words you could use to describe the weird feeling in your abdomen. 

Both of you had grown into your own person, you had finally gone through puberty, curved hips, filled out breasts, sharper and more defined features. And even your silver hair had grown longer, but tonight it was braided in the style of your house. As well as being styled in a beautiful red and black dress. And as you finally arrived, before the king it seemed, you saw him there. He turned around in his chair, his mouth slightly agape as he took you in. His hands seemed bigger, his shoulders broader, circles under his eyes and his lips stained red from wine. A habit he hadn’t grown out of by the looks of him. You took a deep breath at the sight of him, pressing any affectionate feelings deep down. 

He quickly turned back in his seat as you and your family took yours. Of course, your brother had to leave one chair between him and Aegon as his betrothed sat on his right side. Are you fucking kidding me, why couldn’t he have just been mature and took the seat. To avoid suspicion you tried to set your thoughts aside and hurriedly took your seat, already earning a confused look from your mother. Luckily for you there wasn’t any time for conversation as the arrival of the king was announced and you had to stand up again. When he was seated at the table as well, he started off with a speech that quickly got drowned out by your own thoughts. Somehow you couldn’t shake the feeling of him staring. But why would he?

However, your intuition was right because just as you glanced to the side, you already caught him staring. That bastard only made things harder. You could feel his glances on you the entirety of your grandsire’s speech. It made you want to be sucked up by the floor, never to be seen again. But why couldn’t you help yourself from glancing once every while either? All those thoughts were put to a stop when the king sat down again. Your family started a seemingly peaceful conversation with one another. But then, the inevitable... Aegon leaned to his right, where you were seated, and got a bit closer to your ear. The stench of wine and his musk, which was way more enticing than you wanted to admit, filling your nose.

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it, dear niece?” Fuck- His voice had matured too, not as nasal and annoying as it once was. But deep and smooth, cold and hot at the same time. But he had more of a mischievous tone to it, which instantly made goosebumps ripple over your skin. “Yes it has. Still a strong taste for wine I see.” You mused. Keeping a light but inviting tone yourself. “Oh- and she has become more brazen as well.” He grinned, still keeping close to you. You knew he was planning on fucking up this whole dinner tonight, but maybe you were looking forward to that. The annoying voice of Otto Hightower already making you lose your patience. “As well?” You gave him a questioning look, finally acknowledging him. 

“Must I really say it?” He was clearly drunk with the way he observed your tits in the corseted dress. You must admit, you did pick one of your more revealing gowns tonight. Either by accident or on purpose, Aegon cared not. He was just glad you seemed to give him a view to enjoy tonight. “Yes, you must. What do you mean by that?” Clearly you had no idea what he insinuated and oh did that make this all more perfect for Aegon. “Fine. You have matured. Grown into your body, I suppose.” Lowering his voice and choosing more careful words. He didn’t want this dinner to be over yet. “Oh- I- uhm, thank you uncle. That is kind of you to say. You have matured as well. Less...skinny.” That earned you a grin, one you had missed more than you thought. 

Your brothers were always fun to be around but as they got older they started to become more serious. Something that hadn’t caught up with you yet. Jace cared more about his studies and Luke about training with the sword, and Joffrey was too young to have any real fun with. But Aegon hadn't changed as much it seemed, and it made you happy. Knowing that during your stay, you could maybe find some good company in him. Maybe even make it like the old days and pester Aemond a bit, although he had matured too and become more intimidating, so you decided against that part. That was especially proven when the king parted for the night and a pig was brought in, and set right in front of Aemond. Giving one glance to your brothers, you three couldn’t help but let out a snigger. To which Aemond rose from his seat, slamming his hands on the table in a fit of rage, one he hadn’t felt since the old days.

“Final tribute.” He began as he raised his cup to which Aegon mirrored him. You gave your brothers a knowing look. This could only go one way. “To the health of my nephews.” There we go. “Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong.” Alicent gave Aemond a warning but he didn’t give a single fuck, too blinded by hurt and embarrassment. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.” You didn’t think he would really go there as Aegon was usually the one to ruin events but Aemond always had a taste for the dramatics. “I dare you say that again.” Jace spoke up, he was always sensitive about the rumours and accusations. Saying you could never understand with your Valyrian features. “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” 

Aemond really had to take it further. Jace at this point had stood up and stalked towards Aemond in a fury. Aaand dinner ruined. Jace landed the first punch, then all hell broke loose. Luke stood up as well wanting to help his brother defend their honour. But Aegon stopped him slamming him on the table. Making you stand up and push Aegon off him. Your mother and Alicent were all yelling at this point, guards were stepping in and you were all pulled off each other. “Why would you say such a thing in front of all these people?” Alicent scowled. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Although my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” Aemond raised his voice, really making sure your brothers heard it. Jace broke free, ready to launch himself at Aemond again but Daemon stopped him. “Go to your quarters, all of you go, now.” Your mother put an end to it. 

At least supper went as expected, however you knew you needed to clear your mind and cool off before going to bed so you sneaked out to the gardens. However while you were out, a knock landed on your door. Aegon stood there with a bag and a note. He didn’t expect you to disobey your mother and leave but that only confirmed he could make it up to you tonight. His way. He slid inside your chambers and left the bag accompanied by the note on your table, and sneaked away. This was the real test, he thought. To see if you were still the daring, brazen and reckless girl of all those years ago. 

When you returned to your chambers one of the guards let you know who stopped by. And that he left something in your chambers. Curious as to what Aegon could have possibly brought you, you hurriedly stepped inside and closed the door. There it was, the bag on the table and the note of course. Opening it with haste, your face fell into a frown, old dirty commoners clothes? What the fuck kind of gift was that? But your gaze fell on the note beside. You grabbed it and revealed the messy handwriting inside. “Meet me at the back entrance if you want a real fun experience tonight. -The Drunken Fool.” The smile on your face was uncontrollable as you discarded your regal gown and stepped into the musty clothes of the bag, pulling your hair into a bun to tuck underneath the hat that Aegon left in there as well. With one look in the mirror to make sure you didn’t leave any white strands out you left your chambers during the guards shift change, with there always being about two minutes between their shuffle. Something you remembered quite well from your childhood. 

Giggles and laughs almost escaped you every time you managed to evade guards and servants. At last you found your way outside, no one there recognizing you as you tried to make your way to Aegon. Passing a few people you met his gaze as he stood by the back entrance, a couple of feet away from you, wearing his usual attire and accompanied by two men. You smiled at him and started to walk over to him, when you all of a sudden felt a hand grip your upper arm pulling you back. A gold cloak stopped you. Panic seeped in your skin as you were terrified of being caught. “Girl. What is your business here?” His hoarse voice broke the giddy haze you were in. “Let her go immediately.” You almost didn’t notice Aegon coming to the rescue until he was already at your side. “My prince. I apologise, I didn’t know she was with you.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

“I have never been called ‘girl’ before.” You chuckled. “Keep your voice down, no one can know you’re here.” Aegon shushed you. Dragging you with him through the city. The two men following you. “What about them?” You asked as you nodded behind you. “They don’t know who you are, told them you were a whore I picked out to take for the night.” He grinned, still accompanying you through Flea Bottom, the streets of which you recognised. “A? Whore?” You asked confused. Oh no. Aegon thought. Did you really know nothing about sex? Pleasure? He was about to take the night a lot further than he initially planned. He wanted to take you out drinking, to get a break from his boring family and have some fun with the only person who didn’t judge him. But you still being innocent in that regard made him swell in his pants. He was going to show you a lot more fun than you thought. 

“How about I explain when we get to the place huh?” Aegon bit his lip in anticipation, he walked past the tavern where he originally planned to take you and continued walking- to the streets of silk. There was one particular pleasure house where he could have his privacy with you. As you both reached the door of the place, moans could already faintly be heard outside and Aegon noticed your face grow confused. You made this so much harder for him. He ordered the guards to wait outside and took your hand once more to lead you inside. When you entered your jaw almost crashed through the floor at the sight. People everywhere, naked as the day they were born. At least most of them, the others barely wearing anything. They were all over each other, men on women, men on men and even women on women. All screaming, moaning, whining and groaning in pleasure. You looked around, mouth agape as Aegon looked only at you. 

Your reaction was better than he could’ve ever dreamed about. “A whore is someone who gets paid to pleasure a man, or woman. That all happens here. In a pleasure house, you see, pleasure is the greatest thing the gods have ever given us. Besides wine. Marriage is a duty, but fucking is a pleasure.” He whispered in your ear. You almost moaned at his words. A tingly and heated feeling spreading through your body. Aegon squeezed your hand and led you through the people, their eyes occasionally landing on Aegon. He probably came here often? As a serving girl recognised him, she gestured for him to follow her. Taking you both to the back of the building, curtains were revealed. Aegon told the girl to piss off, opened the curtains and revealed a decently sized room, a large round bed inside. Which was decorated with pillows and blankets. Hundreds of candles were lit on the incavings of the walls in the room. 

Aegon closed the curtains and led you on the bed, removing the muffy hat you were wearing. “Do you... come here a lot?” You asked, a slight tremble in your voice. You still didn’t fully grasp the concept of what was exactly happening here, but you were beginning to understand. “I do, and before you go back to Dragon Stone. I’ll show you what real pleasure and fun can be.” He murmured, leaning in a bit closer. He now stroked your cheek. Your lips parted and you could feel the slick and ache between your thighs. The feeling of it becoming uncomfortable, you pressed your legs together, kneeled on the bed before Aegon, who was eyeing you hungrily, the action not going unnoticed. “Does it hurt, little niece?” He asked, lust and impatience filling his body. He knew you didn’t know you craved his touch, but he knew. All too well in fact. You could only nod, a small whimper leaving your lips.

Aegon felt dizzy, his cock was now fully hard. He was probably in more pain than you. He never felt this horny, this pent up. He could feel the precum sticking to the inside of his breeches. “Let me show you, teach you. Real pleasure.” You could only whimper in response. “Kiss me.” You let out a breath and kissed him on the cheek. “No darling, on my lips. It will feel better, I promise.” You obeyed and kissed him softly on his lips. A spark igniting in you at the touch. Aegon felt it too, as he pressed his lips more firm against you. His hands pulling you closer but his desire for you was far from satiated. He deepened the kiss and forced your lips open, prodding his tongue inside. You still awkwardly kissed back and he pulled back a moment. “Try to move your tongue against mine love.” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. You tried to do as you were told, kissing him once more, you moved your tongue against his, getting saliva on both of your lips. Aegon sucked on your tongue and moved his hands in your hair. 

You could feel the vibration of his groans on your lips, on your tongue. You felt yourself pulsate between your legs and pressed your thighs together once more. Aegon didn’t slow the kiss as he now licked your teeth and nibbled on your bottom lip as well. Then he moved back, sitting against the headboard as he moved you on top of him. Sitting on his lap, you started to mimic his tongue movements, licking his teeth as well and sucking on his tongue. Then he moved his hands lower, towards your ass. Only then it really hit you what was happening. You ripped your lips away from his. “Aegon- what- wait we can’t do this.” Aegon was afraid you would realise. This is what the septa’s meant when they would tell you you couldn’t dishonour yourself. 

“Shh, don’t you worry about that. I promise it will be fine. Don’t you want to get rid of that ache? Don’t you want to feel good?” He panted, still lust filled. Desire clouded your mind and judgement and before you could think about it more, Aegon pulled you further on his lap. Right on something hard, hitting that aching spot between your thighs just right. You let out a moan at the feeling. How could you stop now? The pain and ache would become overbearing and besides, Aegon did this all the time. And he was just being so nice showing you how good you could feel. Aegon moaned in response. Did that make him feel just as good as it felt for you? Wanting to chase that feeling, you grinded your hips yourself this time. 

“Fuck- yes just like that. This feels just as good for me as it does for you.” You shuddered at his words. “What is that-” You whined. He grabbed your hand that was resting on his shoulder and moved it between his legs, letting your hand grip his bulge. “That, is my cock. And it feels so fucking good when you touch it. And when I touch you between your legs,” He paused, moving his own hand between your legs, letting his thumb graze your clothed clit. “right over your cunt, it will feel amazing for you.” You gasped at the feeling and his words, never did you feel you so excited, good and hot at the same time. And the urge for more only grew. “So I beg of you, don’t stop. For the good of both of us.” Aegon pleaded, moving his hand back to your ass and helping you grind on him this time.

You could only chant ‘yes’ in response accompanied by moans and whines. Aegon, not being quiet himself, let out his filthies moans and groans. Pulling your head down a bit, he kissed you again. Using his other hand to keep you steady while you humped each other like animals in heat. His covered cock hitting your clit just right every time, and the slick covering your cunt making it easier to grind against each other. Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled away from Aegon, never stopping your hips that grinded on him. “Aegon, some- something is happening- I don’t- please, more- more!” You mumbled incoherently as you felt an intense amount of pleasure building up, your entire body about to burst. “Fuck- good girl. You’re about to cum. You gonna cum for me little princess? You gonna cum for your uncle?” His vulgar words sent you over the edge as you felt waves of fire cursing through your body. One long moan left your lips as your grip on Aegon’s shoulders tightened, pressing yourself as hard as you could against his erection. 

Aegon let out a groan at the sight of you, mouth agape, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, a light sweat covering you. What a divine sight before him. It was worth every restraint of staying sober before your outing. Just so he could remember every detail. When you had calmed down, your eyes locked, you shared a breathy chuckle. “This is only the beginning.” Your eyes widened at his words. Aegon moved his hands to your tunic and started to pull it off, you decided to do the same. Removing his tunic as well. His skin exposed, his abs and toned arms out for only you to see. He could only focus on your hardened nipples, the soft flesh looking beautiful under the candlelight. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to and immediately dove in on your breasts. Suckling and licking your nipples, your hands moving to his neck. You needed to hold on to him, otherwise you were sure you would lose it. 

As he held you, nipple in mouth, he moved you on your back. His hips now back to rutting against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Need more, more of you princess.” He huffed. He removed himself from you and pulled the old pants you were wearing down, immediately revealing your slick cunt. “Fuck- it’s almost as if you did this on purpose.” He grinned, fully ripping the pants off, with a wet stain at the crotch, to throw it to the side. You didn’t however, you just didn’t have access to men’s breeches and womens smallclothes wouldn’t do in pants. His thumb circled your clit and Aegon looked at you through hooded eyes, small pants leaving his lips. How could he ever go back to regular boring whores when he had a Valyrian princess to devour? He decided he no longer had time for patience and removed his own pants, removing his breeches as well in the process.

You leaned on your elbows, curious to see what his cock looked like bare. Aegon let you stare, he loved the effect he was having on you, the first to be having this effect on you. His cock stood proud, curved, veiny, leaking and red from arousal. Balls filled with seed, eager to be emptied and white pubic hair trailing from his navel to his pelvis. You licked your lips at the sight, an urge filled Aegon as he took the base of his cock and trailed the head between your folds. A low grunt escaped him and you let out a whine at the feeling. Finding your tight hole, he let spit dribble from his lips on his cock, although he doubted he needed it, he didn’t want to hurt you.

Holding the base still, he guided the head to your entrance and with a bit of resistance he managed to get the tip inside, a moan filling the room as he felt your tight hole suck him in. The primal urge to fill you, pound into you until you were stuffed with his seed overtook him but he had to take it slow. “Such a good girl aren’t you? But so disobedient at the same time, taking your uncle’s cock in a pleasure house, in the middle of the night.” He groaned at his own words. Only the idea of it already made him hard. Never could he have fantasised about the real pleasure. He pushed further into you when he felt you relax, you whimpered but didn’t feel too much pain. Checking in on you he now fully sheathed himself inside, hitting your cervix. 

You moaned and gripped the sheets beneath you, your legs wrapping around his waist. A sign for him to start fucking you. Aegon kissed your neck and started to slowly rut into you. “Yeah, feel good? You’re making me feel so fucking good love- your tight cunt wrapped around me. Taking me so well, my own little whore.” He grunted as he fucked into you harder. The sounds of sweaty skin smacking against each other and both of your sounds of pleasure filling the room. “More please- uncle- please!” You begged, you finally knew what he was talking about, what he craved- why he goes here. “You want more? How about you get on your stomach? Ass in the air little princess.” His voice sounded demanding and depraved. He pulled out so you could move, you both hissed at the loss of contact. Being in position he wasted no time pushing his sensitive cock back inside you. 

Pounding into you again he grabbed the flesh of your ass helping you move into him as well. “Fuck- You’re perfect- So fucking perfect. Don’t think I can let you leave after this. Gonna need you every night-” He felt his balls tighten, a sign of his release approaching soon, he wanted to chase it, fill you up real good but he also didn’t want to stop yet, for reality to come back. “Doing so good for your uncle darling- so good-” He spoke the words pound for pound making your moans louder and louder. “Yes! All for you Aegon- only for you! Just want your cock please-” You barely even knew what you were saying, all you knew was that he was right, you could never go back to normal after this. His thrusts became more staggered and harsher, giving a couple more before pulling out and letting ropes of his cum painting your ass, long and whiny moans leaving his lips at the sight. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm sticky cum hitting your skin. Taking a deep breath he fell beside you and pulled you close, ignoring the blood on the sheets. 

“I don’t think I can stop myself from taking you again.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. “I don’t want you to stop yourself, I’m already tainted now, what does it matter anymore.” You both laid in each other's arms for some time before Aegon decided to kiss you again. Letting his tongue trace your lips, before entering your mouth. You both made out for a bit before Aegon felt his cock stir again. The power you held over him was dangerous. He removed his lips from yours and laid you on your back again, before kissing down your stomach. “Aegon, what are you doing?” You asked hazily. “Kissing you somewhere else.” When he reached your folds he kissed them softly before kitten licking your clit, making you jerk your body at the feeling. You were still sensitive from the grinding and his warm, wet tongue felt way too good. 

“Oh- do that again, please- harder.” Aegon grinned at your reaction, feeling his chest swell with pride at how he was already making you beg again. He did as you asked and started lapping feverishly at your folds. Occasionally prodding his tongue inside you. His hands held you in place by your tits while your own found his silver locks tugging at the roots. He groaned against your cunt and sucked on your clit. Your feet tensed up at the feeling, and your hands tugged his head closer, basically grinding on his face. Aegon wanted nothing more than to have you cum once more, all over his face. As he lapped and sucked your release came closer, Aegon would devour you every night if he could. He flicked his tongue faster as your moans grew louder and curses fell from your lips. With one shattering moan you fell apart, moaning Aegon’s name as your vision went black and fire cursed through you once more. When you calmed, Aegon gave your cunt one last kiss before laying beside you again. 

“I want to do that to you.” You huffed, a smile on your face as the post orgasm still flowed through you. “Another day if we can, darling.” You frowned at that. “Sadly we must get back soon, before we raise any alarms.” You sat up, the reality of it all hitting you. Yet you felt no regret. “This was- unforgettable, Aegon.” You smiled, looking back at him as he still laid on the bed. “That it was.” He agreed. How could corruption feel so good?