#when he could breathe on his side for two hours instead of just on his stomach and then it killed him
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝟒 — a yang jungwon fanfic
𖤣 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after betraying his trust, yandere!yang jungwon tries his best to maintain a forgiving heart towards you, but things only take a turn for the worse when you foolishly refuse his rules again…
𖥧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mild-nudity, insinuated food poisoning, abduction themes, suggestive (mentions of self/pleasure and cnc themes), swearing, violence, slow burn, crying, angst
𖡼 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k ~ Previously ⊱✿⊰
✎ note: In no way does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. I write purely for entertainment and creative purposes. Reader discretion is advised
TWO DAYS HAD passed since Jungwon first confronted you about sneaking out to the greenhouse while he was away at work.
You’re certain your heart nearly pumped out of your chest once those ominous words escaped his mouth, sending a valley of chills down your spine.
Tracing back the steps you took in your mind, you’re not entirely sure how Jungwon even found out about your little adventure anyways…
Still, your soul contented itself to some degree in the simple fact that he hadn’t asked you anything about what you saw in his greenhouse…
Or better yet, what you weren’t supposed to see.
The only time you saw Jungwon in between those days were whenever he brewed you a cup of tea in the morning, or came back home from work to prepare your supper.
A suspicious inkling in your heart remained concerning his reasons for wanting you to drink the mysterious herbal concoction so routinely.
Out of paranoia, you would instead pour the shimmery liquid into the ivy plant on your nightside table, hoping that he’d never find out about it…
At the end of the day, you really did want to trust Jungwon… not that he deserved it or anything… you just felt that trusting him was the very least you could do in return.
…Especially ever since he vowed to never hurt or touch you against your will again…
“I’m sorry,” your voice began at a whisper, somehow sounding loud in the quiet of Jungwon’s presence.
You were currently in the kitchen with him, sitting at the round wooden table while he prepared you a bowl of fresh fruit from his garden.
He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes barely visible through his shaggy bangs as his grip around the bowl tightened slightly.
“Sorry for what?,” he asked, not sure as to why you were apologizing.
Did you do something bad without him knowing?
Did you somehow manage to go against his rules right under his nose again?
You could tell from the sudden feeling of tension in the room that Jungwon’s mind started to wander in dark places, so you knew you had to speak fast.
“M-my little incident with the greenhouse… I hope you find in your heart t-to forgive my curiosity…” you stuttered nervously, picking with your nails in your lap.
He remained quiet, breathing pattern still like a wind chime frozen in time as he turned on his heel, eyes still not meeting yours.
You watched as he reached for a spoon to drizzle honey on your breakfast, “Would you like any yogurt or granola with your fruit, love?”
You couldn’t believe he just asked you that, of all things—
“Jungwon, I’m trying to apologize here…”
“I know,” he hummed sarcastically, “and I’m trying to prepare your breakfast…”
“I… I know…,” you repeated with a sigh, hanging your head low now as the tension only grew thicker, “thank you, Jungwon… just the fruit and honey is fine…”
He was pleased with your obedience to his subtle cues, bringing the bowl to you with a silver spoon perched in its side, “You're welcome…”
And with that, the stale morning continued as usual, you and Jungwon barely exchanging any small talk as the nearby sun rose to its fullest extent.
He never explicitly said that he forgave you for sneaking out into the greenhouse that day, but it elated him nonetheless that you took a small step to compliance.
About another hour had passed after you both finished breakfast together before Jungwon received a call from his boss, saying that he could have the day off because of a blackout in the city.
That meant you and him would be spending the entire day together, an occurrence that rarely even happened on the weekends given his busy work life.
Jungwon was always busy, so he claimed… which only made you question how he was able to stalk you all those months before abducting you.
You quite seriously couldn’t believe a single word that escaped his serpentine mouth—
“I want to show you a creative piece I've been working on in my greenhouse for you,” he began with gentle enthusiasm as you two spent some time rearranging the bedroom.
Or more accurately, while you sat on the bed, watching him add three extra locks to your bedroom door.
You didn’t respond yet as you didn’t know what to say, so he busied himself with neatly putting away his work tools before standing up from the ground to meet you.
“I hope you don't mind that I kept the dress you wore on your first day here,” he continued bashfully, “I used it to come up with your measurements for the dress.”
He also used it to please himself in eery hours of the night while he thought of a whiny you squirming beneath him, but he'd rather keep that part private for now...
His freshly calloused hand found yours as he joined the spot beside you on the mattress, pulling you back into the moment with a pleasant expression on his angelic features.
It was a shame how someone so demented could be so beautiful.
“What's wrong, my love? Did you spoil the surprise for yourself that day you went snooping around without my permission?” Jungwon interrogated frantically, worried that the blank expression on your face had something to do with his mentioning of the dress.
And it did, but not for reasons he assumed.
“God, you saw it already, didn't you? Please don't hate me ____, I know it didn't look like much at the time, but—”
“Jungwon—”
“I made a few finishing touches since then, but it looks way better now, I promise... I'm so sorry for not hiding the surprise from you better—”
“Wonie,” you said a little louder this time, making his guilt-stricken eyes soften slightly at your use of a nickname.
He let out a sigh, shaking his head with a light-hearted chuckle before running a hand through his thick brown locks, “Guess I kinda rambled a bit there, didn't I?”
“Just a little,” you agreed, patting him on the back as he rested his elbows on his thighs while sitting.
If only you could feel the way his crooked heart fluttered at your simple initiation of physical touch.
“And I didn't see your project in the greenhouse, by the way... only a naked mannequin and some plants… so please, don’t stress yourself out over that,” you reassured in a soft tone, almost as if cooing to the hurt child inside him…
“I appreciate everything you do for me, Jungwon… you know that…,” you confessed in the stillness, an odd sincerity behind each word.
“Thank you for saying that, my love... but as a committed pair, my duty is to please you, and that's all I could ever aspire to do so long as you keep pleasing me...” his voice trailed off ominously, your eyes watching as little sighs kept leaving his body…
It was a strange thing, really...
Seeing such an intimidating person falter to reverence… insecurity.
You wondered in your mind exactly what Jungwon meant by you pleasing him, but you decided to keep quiet for the meantime instead of asking.
Suddenly, he lifted himself from the bed, turning to face you with a seemingly restored countenance as he spoke, “I can't wait for you to try on the dress though, ____... I just know you'll look absolutely divine once its on you... Ready?”
“Ready,” you smiled, taking his extended hand in yours as he guided you out of the bedroom and to his forbidden greenhouse.
YOUR BODY STIFFENED as stone, your lungs hardly remembering to breathe as Jungwon’s cold hands stripped you of your clothing layer by layer.
You stood in front of him, now only in a washed-out pair of lace panties and thin bralette, a wooden stepping stool placed beneath your feet which strangely resembled a pedestal.
The sound of metal clothes hangers sliding into each other hit your ears as he rummaged through the wardrobe in between one of his gardening shelves.
Meanwhile, your eyes scanned the room before inevitably falling back onto the sight of two mannequins, one whole and another headless.
From the looks of it, you almost couldn’t believe that Jungwon had designed either of the pieces himself, let alone crafted them by hand.
Despite how Jungwon had proved to you multiple times that he was a jack of all trades, his array of skills never seeming to fail.
The red dress you watched him carefully remove from the mannequin was the one that belonged to you.
It’s neckline was made up of fancy lace, dried out field flowers trailing the accented seams.
The waist of the dress was decorated similarly, an array of gorgeous flowers with warm hues floating idly atop the skirt of feathery fabric, ballon-like sleeves completing the look with a mocked neckline.
The piece, in short, was lovely, Jungwon having brought with him a pair of silk white leggings and sliding them up your dainty ankles as would a servant before his queen.
It was evident all over his face that he took such delight in dressing you, hands respectfully adjusting your undergarments and fastening the makeshift zipper up your spine.
With delicate hands, he straightened out the fabric over your shoulders and down your waist as needed before stepping back to get a full look at you.
“My precious blossom...” he began adoringly, observing how the thin material draped over every ethereal curve of your body, and how the coloring palette complimented your natural one as if it were the only dress you were ever meant to wear.
"You're glowing," he almost whispered this time, voice so light that it tickled you when it touched your skin.
“Thank you,” you replied with a similarly gentle tone, not quite sure on how to respond to his enamor for you.
Pacing back towards you, he took your hands in his, looking almost as if he was holding back tears once his feline eyes met yours, “What do you think, my love? Did I do a just job for you?…”
“It’s perfect,” you smiled, abandoning one of his hands so you could swipe the moisture from his eyes, watching as he nearly purred at your action, “I love it…”
“And I’m so happy you do,” he replied, gentle touch grazing your wrist as he continued to admire the view of you in his unique piece.
“I have a question, though,” you started shyly, still watching his face in case there’d be an unpredictable change of emotion.
He simply nodded, feelings as though he was in a sleep-like state from how lovesick he felt right now, “You may continue, my love…”
“Okay,” you went on, swallowing any nerves building up in your throat before speaking, “What compelled you to design such a dress for me in the first place?”
A prolonged silence meddled between you two at the question up until he giggled slightly to himself, confusion washing over you at the sight of his now full-smile.
“Has it really been that long, love,” Jungwon asked in a half-serious tone, “for you to not even remember anymore?”
“Remember what?” You asked back, using the most polite voice you could muster.
“Remember that you’re my little flower, silly,” he smiled eerily, pinching one of your cheeks in a way that triggered a fear response within you.
Fortunately though, you did a good job of concealing it this time…
I’m not a flower, Jungwon, a voice similar to your own weakly choked out in desperation, trying to trigger a memory.
“I…. I’m not sure I fully understand,” you admitted, not even aware of how your legs stiffened, or the way your heart started to pulse as if you’d just been in a fight.
“Your rebuttal,” he clarified, “in the woods that day… it rang true to my ears,” he said, still tracing your skin with his touch.
“Jungwon—”
“Let me finish… please,” he interrupted sternly before tilting his head at you. “You brought something very important to my attention that day… and it was that every flower ought to have petals…”
He stopped in his words, hoping that you would understand, and to some degree, you did.
All of this, from day one… was to make sure that you, as his flower, blossomed accordingly…
The tea he ‘watered’ you with every morning…
The rays of sunlight he valued synonymously with any other form of nutrition you received…
The dress he designed for you with his own hands…
And the initial nickname he graced you with since as long as you could forget…
Jungwon loved you from the depths of his stony heart, and he had a very strange way of expressing it to you at times.
Though, now that you were complete with a set of more petals than he could possibly count, the last step was for Jungwon to make sure he took good care of you so you wouldn’t wither away…
So you wouldn’t have to perish like the last girl did…
THAT EVENING, JUNGWON brought you back to the garden just outside the main cabin on the land lot.
You sat quaintly, hands folded in your lap as he toiled in the flower bed, the knees of his dark blue jeans turning dark with moist soil.
"You look rather bored," he started, a glint of playfulness in his eyes, "care to give me a hand?"
"Sure," you replied apprehensively, getting up from the wooden bench you sat at and joining him at the seedling patch.
"See that shovel over there," he asked, directing your attention to its auburn handle a few feet away from you, "use it to sprinkle a bit of fertilizer over these here flowers, please."
"Okay," you obliged, a little grunt escaping you as you reached forward to grab the shovel, Jungwon's eyes trying their best not to follow the curve of your outstretched figure, the sounds you made doing enough to tingle his imagination.
"Is everything alright? You look warm," you said, observing the slight hue rushing to the apple of his cheeks.
"Oh- No, I'm alright," he said with a reassuring smile, reaching in his side pocket to pull out a pair of gardening scissors.
You busied yourself with sprinkling the flower bed with fertilizer, meanwhile, the distant sound of Jungwon snipping a few plants filled your ears alongside the peaceful melody of songbirds.
Your mind couldn't help but think of the day he made you kill one of their kind... the day he made you steal another creatures freedom, just as he had done to you-
"What're you picking?" You asked, not meeting his eyes as you dusted a bit of dirt from your hands.
"Just some herbs for your tea," he answered in a quiet voice, focusing most of his mind on the task at hand, "the ones in my greenhouse withered out somehow, but I'm glad I had a few back-up plants out here..."
Your eyes followed as he continued to snip, colorful leaf and flower bud remnants falling into the mini mortar bowl he held in his free hand.
"Do you recognize all the plants you farm by name?"
"Pfft... of course I do," he chuckled, "I've been a man of the garden my whole life," he added. "These purple ones here are called valerian, the vibrant ones passion flowers, and the red ones are poppy's... though, I often mix these with berry brews in your tea..."
You took a mental note of the names he listed, "And do you have a botanical book by any chance-"
"You're asking a lot of questions again, love," he said, voice sounding a bit cold even though his face remained just as friendly.
"S-sorry," you apologized timidly, hanging your head low as the evening wind picked up, blowing sprinkles of wildlife into the air as Jungwon turned his head to avoid getting anything in his eyes.
"Let's head back inside now," he said softly, "it's getting late."
You got up from the ground, holding your day-dress at either side of you as if it already hadn't been soiled from the soggy flower bed, Jungwon guiding you back to the cabin with a protective hand around your waist as the wind continued to beat at your backs.
Promptly upon being met with the warmth of the main cabin, Jungwon locked the door behind you two before making his way to the kitchen where he set a kettle on the stovetop.
Meanwhile, he had ran you a bath so you could get washed up in the nearby restroom down the hallway, cleaning yourself with haste and changing into a fresh pair of clothes.
The tea kettle was whistling angrily in a matter of minutes, Jungwon having crushed the collection of herbs and berries with the pestle in his bowl and pouring the scalding water right over it.
With a skilled hand, he drizzled a bit of honey at the bottom of your teacup, transferring the brew right over.
Clink... clink... clink.
Jungwon gave the mixture a few stirs with a metal spoon before deciding to himself that it was ready.
"____," he called after you from your bedroom in a sing-songy voice, waiting for a now-refreshed you to meet him on the mattress.
The feline eyed boy held the warm cup tenderly in his grasp just as you returned with a damp head of hair and natural glow.
"It's time for your tea, love," he reiterated, scooting over on the bed as you didn't hesitate to join the spot beside him.
He opened your hands before placing the cup within your grasp.
There was something about the expression on his face in this moment... a knowing look displayed on his cat-like features as he eyed you fiercely, waiting for you to take the first sip.
"I added a new ingredient to it this time, too," he went on, breaking the odd silence, "not that you'd even notice a difference in the taste since you never drink it despite my instructions to."
Your heart nearly rolled from your chest and onto the prickly wooden floor at his sudden words.
"W-wha... what did you say," you stuttered nervously, tightening your grip around the teacup.
"Oh, please... you didn't think I'd catch on to the ivy's pot and soil being over-soaked so frequently?" He challenged, shaking his head at you in disappointment that you even thought you could get away with lying to him.
Again.
"The poor thing almost died because of you," he continued, taking in your anxious body language even though your eyes failed to meet his daunting ones.
"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted with a shaky voice, knowing that with Jungwon, it was better to say something, even if it was stupid, instead of saying nothing at all.
He hummed at your reply before speaking again, "So I'll ask you a question instead... how come you never drink it? I mean... you're not a picky eater, so there must be some other reason... isn't there?"
You let out a hesitant breath, "Jungwon, I don't know what you want to hear, but-"
"I don't want to hear anything but the truth, ____," he clarified with an exhausted huff, keeping his eyes on you as if pleading.
"Now don't keep me waiting with your nonsense because you already know how I get when you do that to me..."
“I…I just,” you stumbled over your speech, struggling to maintain eye contact with him as his gaze practically pierced you.
“You don’t trust me,” he finished for you, shaking his head at your failure to even deny it. “You genuinely think that I’d do something bad to you,” he scoffed while clenching his jaw, “even after that pathetic little promise I made to you…”
That’s when you felt the cup harshly leave your grasp, a bit of its liquid spilling onto your lap as he abruptly stood up from the mattress.
A scornful look took over his delicate features, throwing his head back before drinking the tea in one big gulp, wiping the remaining residue from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, “There… you see?! Not that hard, right love?”
You meant to respond but he already paced out of the room by now, coming back in less than a minute with the kettle in his hand, refilling the teacup he’d just drank from.
Smiling facetiously at your nervous frame, Jungwon pushed your legs open with his own, now standing dauntingly between them.
You were still sat on the bed, legs trembling at either side of his thighs as his broad shadow nearly consumed your lesser one, eyes rising to meet his nightmarish face thanks to his hand guiding your chin upward.
You didn't like this one bit, the cold air of the room hitting your core now that your legs were spread open, nor his body being positioned right between you.
He tilted his head, your eyes brimming with fearful tears that every bone in your body tried to push down with the growing lump in your throat that you couldn't swallow.
“So do it then,” he went on sternly, voice not raised but just as impactful, “Take the fucking cup and drink it.”
There was a certain beast imbedded behind Jungwon's contrastingly angelic face... it was always hungry, waiting for whatever enticing peep-hole of a chance was provided for him to squeeze through.
And as perverted as it sounds, that same hole of temptation laid right within you, hidden behind a dainty nightgown that acted as wrapping paper to a precious gift.
With every day that passed, Jungwon could feel himself crawling despairingly closer and closer to its rim, praying that he might someday spill over the edge and be basked in all its glory...
The very glory he placed on your purity since day one, seeking after it as if it'd rescue his corrupted soul.
You had no other choice but to heed to his words, parting your lips with a broken whine as his grip on your face tightened.
He refused to bring the cup to your lips, watching as if entertained once you lifted the cup over his hand, letting the tea meet your dry tongue.
“Swallow it,” he ordered, looking into your eyes before the feeling of warmth hit your stomach almost instantly, the teacup now being empty.
“Wonie,” you choked out, a single tear gliding down the supple curve of your cheek as his free hand set the cup on the nightstand, only to find your lips and toy a thumb at it.
“What is it love?” He whispered in a hoarse voice, peering impossibly close to your face as his grip remained tight.
“I’d like to go to bed now,” you yelped weakly, lips twitching with fear that only continued to multiply within you now that he'd pushed your back against the mattress, caging you beneath him.
“And without supper?” He taunted, whispering these words right under your ear as your hands trembled at his chest.
“Yes,” you blurted out with heavy breaths, “I’m no longer hungry, Jungwon…”
He let your words sink in, taking in just how scared you seemed when he hadn't even done anything yet.
The way you feared Jungwon used to bother him, but now he started to see an advantage in it... an advantage in the way you crumbled into submission before him.
“Very well then,” he said, hands finally leaving your chin with a few red marks still remaining on your skin from the pressure, “sleep well, my love...”
☆ Thank you all so much for reading this piece! I always love how interactive you guys are in the comments with this story and it truly brings a smile to my face !! On a side note though, this part turned out much longer than expected, so apologies for the cliffhanger ;-; ... to be continued hehe ;)
☆ taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @nikisvanillaccola @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @valhrts @lisaaannna @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs @clarisabutterfliescupcake @yevene @heecries @rosiemiayyxy @jungwonieee @edgykoo @luvmlkw @idkhoomanmaybe @sunsinmyskies @guessm0del @ayadikreino @destairea @jakehooni @jjungwonss @nikilvr @jays-property @moonchus @angelicjungwon @wonniesdoll @rosiemiayyxy @rinirumi @noviadebeomgyu @pochacco-o @hapeynaaa @ikngh @maspire @mamuljji @hnnhj @legendarycowboywinnerlawyer @enhypenlovre @stxrboyjae @f4irynono @03sunoos @itwasrem @laurradoesloveu @lalalalovelalalasworld @honestimage @ro-0327 @stwberrykooki @heelvrr @wonbinisbabygurl @jungwonloveer @jungwonsmybf @kayoiw @lovelycassy @mrswolfhard3 @theothernads @junieshohoho @wonheartz @jongsbie @candewlsy @kotazuken @moonchus @laurradoesloveu @millieinyourarea @straightondryland
#jungwon hard hours#enhypen#enhypen smut#yandere enhypen#yandere jungwon#yang jungwon#jungwon ff#jungwon smut#jungwon angst#jungwon hard thoughts
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Happy Never After | T Meier
summary: not everything has a happy ending
this is a re-write
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"I don't understand you sometimes!"
"What's not to understand Timo?! I drop everything for you all the time and you just don't care-"
"I care!"
"No you don't! I dropped everything for you when you were traded to Jersey, I left my job and sold my apartment to follow you and I put up you you being absolutely miserable every single day because of it! I moved around the country now we’re in Jersey without my home and job!"
A weight lifted off your shoulders, finally speaking your heart. Timo shifted awkwardly infront of you.
"Glad you got that off your chest" he grumbled, angrily
"you're not the only one who sacrificed stuff you know?"
You laughed humourlessly "what could you have possibly had to give up?"
It was like he was searching for something to say "| missed out on like everything it was to be a rookie because I was tied down to, to you!"
Your eyes went wide and Timo bit his lip, regretting how he'd said it.
"You 'missed out'?" You put air quotes around your words and quirked your eyebrow
He gulped
"On what exactly? The drinking and partying? The hooking up every other night? Every Sunday I came over Kevin had a new girl in his bed! Is that what you want?"
"What? No-"
"That's what you said! You just said that!" You wave your hands around with no reason, just feeling frustrated.
"You know that's not what I meant!"
"That's what you said!" You screamed, as if raising your volume would get the point across better.
He ran a hand over his face and sighed "God would you stop being such a bitch-"
Nope.
The sound of your palm meeting the side of his face sounded through his apartment. He grabbed his cheek which was turning red now while you stumbled back, tears in your eyes and gasped.
"Don't you dare, don't you dare call me names!" He reached out for you, to console you but you pulled away "No, No don't! Don't touch me! God, I can't even look at you"
"Babe, please just listen I didn't - woah what are you doing?" He rushed, watching as you picked up your coat and bag.
"I'm leaving, I'm going home"
"Please don't leave! C'mon I'm about to leave on a two week long road trip let's not do this"
You looked at him, breaking his heart as he took in your red nose and tear stained cheeks while you sniffled
"I can't Timo"
When the door shut he stood in the silence wondering
what the fuck just happened?
When he woke up the next morning he had hoped you were there, you weren't. You hadn't answered any of his calls and texts.
The devils were about to leave for a two week road trip and he didn't want to leave this on a bad note but he had no time before the flight was due to leave.
Before take off you received a text
Timo 🤍
i love you and I'm so sorry. please just call me, I wanna hear your voice.
You read the text, like all the others but never replied.
Instead simply throwing your phone away to sit and sulk.
Day four of the trip and he still hadn't heard from you.
The first sign of life was when Jack's girlfriend posted a photo on her instagram stories of a bunch of denim jackets with the boys names and numbers on the back for the wags annual brunch.
He spotted his own name on a jacket, heart content to know you were there. However a couple of hours later he saw another story post of the same brunch and could see that same table with one jacket lay on it, the number twenty eight standing out to him clearly.
It had started taking a toll on his play around Vegas.
Nico spoke to him but was shut down quickly as Timo insisted there was nothing wrong and that he was sorry. Nico didn't care about his play, he was worried about his friend.
A week into the trip you visited Timo's apartment with a cardboard box in hand. Packing up everything you wanted to take with you. At some point you'd gotten so emotional you sat down on the couch to breath and turned the tv on.
It flickered to the last channel it was on, hockey. You watched the screen as it panned across the devils and the canucks. You watched as the screen showed Timo, holding his chain in hand and kissing the pendant that hung on it - your pendant.
"Oh T..." you sighed, biting your lip and turning the TV off.
When the road trip ended Timo couldn't wait to get home and see you, try to resolve this clear issue.
Opening the door, he immediately felt off. His eyes darted around the room trying to figure out what was different.
Your favourite blanket that hung over the couch was gone.
Your shoes weren't littering the floor next to the front door.
You weren't there.
Timo scrambled for his phone, calling you and texting you to be hit with the voicemail.
37 voicemails.
146 text messages.
27 instagram DM's.
6 twitter DM's.
1 email.
You never replied.
It wasn't until a few days later you called him when you knew he'd be at practice unable to see his phone so you could leave a message.
When he returned to the locker room and saw his missed call he cursed, rushing to listen to the voicemail.
"hey timo, I know it was shitty to ghost you like that but I feel like if I didn't do it this way I would make it worse for everyone. I feel like we need time apart, you made it clear that being in this relationship made you miss out on things so I want to give you the chance to explore that lifestyle! I'll always be your biggest fan, from San Jose to Jersey I've got you but I think I just gotta have you from afar for a little while"
Timo looked at his phone for a moment before he threw the phone onto the floor and stood on it repeatedly.
Completely unaware everyone was watching the scene he was causing.
It was Jonas’ hands on his shoulders that snapped him out of his bubble "C'mon man, let's go some-"
"She left me"
"Okay, come on buddy not here"
He looked up at his friend and let out a soft, shaky breath before he shoved his head on his shoulder and began to sob.
"You're alright, it's alright"
The pounding on your front door that night startled you, leaving your desk to answer the clearly urgent guest
The door wasn't even open enough to see you before you heard "What the fuck is going on?!"
"Hi Lauren, come in, lovely to see you" you joked, rolling your eyes as she barged into your apartment.
"Timo is on my couch right now crying, what is going on? More importantly are you ok?" She asked, eyes fluttering over you to check.
You smiled softly "I'm okay Laur, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you l just - my head has been fried"
Her eyes softened "hey listen, I'm here for you okay? I just don't understand what's going on? Jonas brought him home and we are both as clueless as each other"
"I broke up with him"
"You What? This is a joke right?"
"Laur, i feel bad enough please don't make me feel worse" you groaned.
She stood there looking at you "I don't get it, you're Timo and Y/N. You don't break up"
"Yeah well.." You trialled off.
You went into all the details. Explaining the cause of the fight and all the things he said to you amidst it all.
By the end you were both in tears and when Lauren hugged you, you felt relaxed for the first time in a long time
"We love You, so much! and we support you always-"
"But Jonas-"
"But Jonas nothing, you are our friend too and it'll take some getting used to but we support our friends"
When Lauren returned home that night she didn't speak to either of the boys. Clearly seeing how much Timo was hurting right now that being angry at him wasn't an option.
He returned home, to an empty house on day three.
He felt like he was becoming a burden in their home.
So he moved the pity party back to his place.
Life carried on as normal as it could, he played hockey, he practiced and he slept. He did everything he would usually without you. He tried not to think about you too much but it was hard living in the place he had never been without you.
The days and month kind of moulded into one.
Halloween passed, Christmas passed, New Years all without you.
Timo downloaded tinder and bumble. He let his friends set him up. Nothing was working. He hated this.
The next time he saw you was New Year's Day.
Lauren had asked for you to come along to the game with her as the Devils were playing the Flyers in the stadium series and her future in-laws would be present.
You'd been friends with Jonas since high school and his parents always enjoyed seeing you.
Jonas obviously hadn't passed on your news to his parents.
"We're super excited for the wedding! And you must be too sweetheart, oh you and Timo will be next huh?"
Your face went red and you stuttered until Lauren replied "actually, Nutchara. Timo and Y/N broke up in September"
She looked shocked "Oh no, sweetheart I'm so sorry ! didn't know!" Pulling you into a hug to console you.
The hug was showcased on the jumbotron, Timo watched from the bench, his heart in his throat.
After the game the Siegenthaler’s were gathered together with you chatting away and Timo overheard Nutchara speaking as he passed.
"Oh now you're single maybe we can finally set you up with Nico, he's a bit hopeless with romance"
You laughed, making a comment about "Poor Neeks" Timo about-turned bumping into his teammate behind him and poking a finger into his chest before grumbling "If Nico puts his hands near my girl, tell him he's a fucking dead man"
You did not go out with Nico. Jonas made sure his parents didn’t meddle.
January passed and the rest of the months ran quick.
You were helping Lauren out with wedding stuff, constantly flying back to Canada to visit the venue, speak to catering, order flowers. You name it.
The devils never made it to play offs.
You watched them the night they failed to qualify.
You wrote out a text to Timo
i'm sorry. you deserved that one.
You didn't send it.
The wedding planning soon started coming into play.
Bachelorette parties and Bachelor weekends commenced before the big day.
You spent the week before trying to fix everything to be perfect for their big day.
The Friday night was everyone flying into town. You couldn't be there to pick people up as your own flight out of Newark had been delayed but the team pulled through with Nico and Jack taking point as welcome committee.
Your new flight landed hours later, while everyone was supposed to be at dinner. You texted Jack to ensure someone could pick you up and he told you he had it it sorted.
You wanted to kill him when you exited the airport and you saw Timo waiting for you in the loading zone.
He was leaned up against his car, rushing forward for your bags when he saw you
"I thought Jack was picking me up"
"He ran out of fuel and I had a full tank so he sent me"
Your sighed "Well alright then"
The ride back to the hotel was quiet and awkward.
Nobody tried to make small talk.
When you arrived at dinner you swiftly knocked Jack's head and said "Never do that again"
Saturday was the rehearsal dinner and you weren't feeling so great.
You had put on the dress and headed across to the venue. You did your due diligence and welcomed in both Lauren and Jonas’ families.
Jonas was mingling with people but didn't miss how Timo’s stare hardened when Nico walked up to you and hugged you hello.
"Please don't murder him, this is my wedding after all"
Timo took a drink and grumbled "I make no promises but I'll at least hold off until after his speech" continuing to watch your interaction.
Jonas laughed and walked off with a "Thanks bud"
Timo kept an eye on you all night long, feeling something was off.
You didn't look right.
After everyone was sat for the meal and speeches had been done you wandered off to the bathroom and hadn't returned for quite a while.
A break in the meal service gave him the opportunity to slip away to find you.
He found the ladies bathroom, he knocked and said
"Y/N, you in there?"
"Yeah, I'm here. What's up?" You croaked. Timo frowned before saying "I'm coming in"
"Timo, no-" it was too late, he'd already made his way into the bathroom to find you on the floor hunched over the toilet.
He walked over, pulling his suit jacket off and draped it over your shoulder and then pulling your hair back into a makeshift ponytail to the best of his ability.
"You don't have to-" "Just hush, I'm here"
You were silent but grateful, continuing to spew for the next twenty minutes.
"I think I just ate bad chicken on the plane" you mumbled, defeated and laying against the tile wall.
"Let's get you to bed" he decided, pulling you up from the wall. Your body, weakened, fell into him and you groaned
"But the dinner " "can be done without you come on"
He slipped the two of you out the back door and called a cab back to the hotel. For a moment you forgot your situation, opting to think this was all normal.
When Timo took you up to your room and helped you get ready for bed, all normal.
You knew you shouldn't have but when Timo tried to leave you cried out "Please stay, I can't be alone like this"
It didn't take an awful lot of convincing, Timo knew you and he knew you were right. You never really got sick but when you did you always needed help.
He stayed.
He stayed all night while you slept, his fingers tangled in your hair scratching lightly at your scalp to soothe you.
At five that next morning he left you in order to return to his room and get ready for the wedding.
When you woke up, slightly confused you found a note on the pillow next to you.
morning, I had to go get the boys up. hope you're feeling better, I'm sure you'll look beautiful today. advil and water on the nightstand < 3
You smiled lightly, looking over to see a plastic water bottle and the aforementioned pills waiting for you.
You picked up your phone from the other side, a few texts from people checking you were ok was all along with a message in the bridesmaid group chat about getting ready together.
"She's alive!" Was yelled when you entered the room.
You smiled "Yes, yes I'm here I had food poisoning"
"Timo took care of you though, that was sweet" one of the other bridesmaids said, curling her hair and looking at you in the mirror.
You nodded, picking up a champagne glass from the table "Yeah, he left to go get Jonas up this morning-"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Lauren yelled "He stayed over?!" Yeah nodded sheepishly "Uh yeah, I guess I asked him too when I was tired I think I was just used to him helping me out when I'm sick"
Lauren gave you a look but you didn't press it further, after all it was her wedding day.
The ceremony didn't last long, Lauren had always said she didn't want people being bored and just wanted to party.
You'd found your space at the head table, right next to Nico and you couldn't help but think Jonas’ mom had something to do with the table plans.
You were talking after dinner with Nico about everything going on in his life when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders.
You turned to see Timo smiling down at you "Hey Neeks, mind if I steal her for a bit?"
Nico smiled "Nah man, she's all yours. I'll see you in a bit y/n"
You smiled back before pushing the chair out and grabbing Timo’s hand to be directed onto the dance floor.
You didn't speak for the first few minutes, just basking in each other's company until you said "Hey thanks for last night you didn't have to do that"
"I couldn't leave you to fend for yourself"
"I'm not your problem anymore T"
"Not by my choice" he noted and you huffed "Timo-
"No, please just hear me out because l've been waiting for the right time to speak to you and I mean what are weddings for if not love, eh? Whatever that stupid fight we had was about was not worth loosing you over. I hate myself for that and the things I said because I love you so freaking much and I was so stupid for allowing myself to loose you. When you left me I was broken"
You sighed, looking up at him for any sign of a lie.
There was none "Timo... I miss you too but you know it's not that easy to just get back together"
"I know, I just needed you to know how I felt" he nodded.
"Well Thank you, i appreciate it. Maybe we can talk again whenever we're back home in jersey?"
"I like the sound of that"
You nodded, Timo twirling you out in the dance and when he pulled you back in he said "You do look beautiful tonight I guess I predicted that right"
Back in Jersey come the fall it had been a while since that night at the Siegenthaler wedding.
The devils home opener was packed with fans.
You were sat with a beer in hand, looking out on the ice at the red jersey's looking at all the new names around.
Your thoughts were broken when you felt something drape over your shoulders, turning you saw Lauren alongside other girlfriends and wives all smiling at you.
"Hey!"
"Hey sweetheart we didn't think we'd see you here, we saw you from the box" Lauren points up to the 'wags' box.
You blush "Yeah, i uh haven't been up there in a while"
"Well we thought you might want this back, a little birdy told me you might need it" you pulled the jacket draped over your shoulders off and looked at it.
The black denim jacket displayed the number twenty eight alongside Meier so nicely.
You smiled "That little birdy would be correct" you answered and the girls all cheered.
"Ugh, finally they're back together! We're so happy for you"
"Thank you guys honestly, it's been a massive journey but we're here now!"
Come the end of the night the boys were on a winning high and Timo didn't think it could get better than this.
That was until he came out of the locker room to find you with your back turned to him he saw the name and number on your jacket.
He groaned "Oh god I forgot what a beautiful sight this was" slipping behind you, arms travelling around your front to land on your abdomen and kissing the side of
You leaned into him "You like it?"
"Like it? I love It" he announced, leaning in closer to your ear to whisper "I'd like it better on our floor”
You straightened up "Oh we've gotta go guys! We've got stuff to do. See you all next week!"
You were halfway out the door when someone shouted
"they really never changed!"
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i hate going “hey i might not be up to hanging out im just not doing well mentally” but also i know if im either constantly panicking or completely out of it while we’re hanging out then it won’t go well
#got into a fight with my mum because she was like ‘well why r u still scared when we’re not seeing massive waves and hospitals aren’t#overrun and this 80 year old family friend has had it three times and is fine every time#and do you look at what people who don’t have the same opinion of you are saying’#my response to this was ‘no I do look at the scientific articles that come out though and most of the ones about covid are finding it does#damage to multiple parts of the body’#like. i already have fibromyalgia. we’ve removed the cancerous tumor but i still have iodine radiation and have to hope the cancer cells#they found in my blood vessels didn’t go far enough to spread and if they did that the iodine destroys them#like. is a kid with fibromyalgia not enough. im not doing chemo so it’s fine right just get me sick#does she not fucking remember how it destroyed her husband. she watched it we all fucking watched for weeks as he withered away from this#fucking disease#and then everything we didn’t see we got in twice daily calls from the hospital as they told us how his kidneys failed and they were excited#when he could breathe on his side for two hours instead of just on his stomach and then it killed him#am i the only one in the household who remembers seeing my dad as a barely breathing corpse when we forced him to go to the hospital because#he couldn’t say three words or walk a few steps without panting like he’d just done a sprint#im tired of her making me feel crazy for not wanting this disease im not irrational or insane for this i promise i promise im not#im tired of her coming in 5 minutes after i leave an argument going ‘don’t be angry with me. it’s just that-‘ and then making my only safe#place in this house a part of the argument too#fuck it it’s fine I’m out in a few months anyway#vent tw#sittin g in a corner rn so that the only open space is in front of me and i can pull my legs up to my chest and my fan is on and my windows#are open and im tired of being called crazy and paranoid and irrational#covid tw
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genshin sugar daddies
premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for every day of the week. a bit overwhelming, right? however, you somehow find ways to make time for each and every one of them, no matter how emotionally and physically demanding they are. it's just that, now they don't seem too keen on sharing, and you don't know what to do. (modern au)
tw: nsfw, dark content - minors dni
mondays are always harder in more ways than one. mondays are diluc's days, and that means that you're spending a good portion of your nights at angel's share.
on mondays, it's happy hour. which means that you're sitting at a booth in the corner looking pretty while diluc is tending to his customers. you're more than happy to sit back and relax while you wait for him to finish with work. when the drinks are on the house, you're willing to wait as long as it'll take.
periodically, when he's not busy, however, he'll walk over to you and engage in conversation. you act as a taste-tester for new drinks so he's always asking you if you like them. you two will talk about your day, any interesting events, and so on until diluc is pulled back into work again.
then you're back to fiddling your fingers and watching him work. over time, you've learned that he preferred that you not do anything while you were supposed to be with him. that instead, you fixated your gaze on him while he moved about. sometimes you'll catch him looking at you to see if your eyes are still on him.
even while he's dealing with a certain tone-deaf bard, there's something about the way he looks at you so intently that reminds you of a predator.
when angel's share closes, you're there to keep him company while he cleans up. when he's done, he'll sweep you away back to his manor.
you'll fall onto the sheets as he grinds against you. his shallow breaths brush against your throat. the look he gives you is nothing short of intense.
"everyone at the tavern was looking at you, you know," he mutters, running his fingers down your chest, sinking into your pants. he pulls them down effortlessly along with your panties. "didn't you feel it, darling? their filthy eyes on you. they want to ruin you. everyone wants to ruin you."
he throws your legs over his shoulders, his fingers crawling up your thighs. you jump when he suddenly inserts two fingers into your cunt, scissoring you. his free arm wraps around your leg to keep you locked against him. his eyes are glued onto you as he presses a kiss against your calf.
"but your eyes were on me all night, weren't they. couldn't take your eyes off me, could you. you're mine, dear. do you hear me? you're mine."
you don't overlook how tight his grip is. tight enough to make you wonder if he'll ever let you go. in the morning, he does, but you're scared for the day he wakes up and decides that it's for the last time.
tuesdays aren't as bad. when you’re sore from the night before, childe is there to take you out to meals, shopping, and sightseeing. he's not always available to spend time with you on tuesdays, because of his equally-demanding job and whatnot, but when he is free, he never wastes a second.
or a dollar.
childe smirks smugly from his sea. his posture is lax, one hand lazily tracing circles on the chair's arm while the other comes up to rest under his chin.
"how about you twirl for me, girlie? you look so beautiful."
you giggle, observing yourself in the mirror. "why thank you."
you bask in the way the soft satin kisses your skin. the way your newly-own earrings sparkle under the dressing room's light. just a couple years ago, you could've only dreamed of being dressed so prettily.
"do your side-bitches ever treat you as well as me?"
"childe!" you chide.
he laughs, getting up from his seat. but you both know better than to believe his little chuckle is genuine.
he approaches you, sliding his hands around your waist. tucking your head under his chin, he stares at you through the mirror's reflection.
you don't say anything, and childe doesn't either. it appears he's more than happy to enjoy just standing there. his gaze is glossed over, far away.
the two of you sway side to side for what seems like forever until he decides to say something.
"do they buy you pretty things like i do?"
of course they do, you think. although you spend one-on-one time with each and every one of them, they are all aware of each other. it's only right that they did. it was the first thing you said when you brought the idea up to them, that it wasn't going to be exclusive.
but when you see the way he looks at you, you can't really tell him the truth. not when his focus is redirected from his thoughts to you.
"the things you buy me are a special kind of pretty," you reply.
it seems like that answer is enough for him, because he doesn't say anything else. instead he hums quietly, letting the vibration ripple in the back of your head. he slides his hands down your hips and before you can say anything else, he whips his head around.
"i'll buy these sets." he motions over to the closest clothes rack to an attendant you hadn't noticed. "and that one. and the dress she's wearing. how many colors does this come in, by the way?"
the attendant doesn't hesitate. "five colors, sir. they come in bla—"
"great." he shuffles through his pocket to pull out a black card. "pack them up, we won't be here any longer," he retorts.
the attendant looks ecstatic, quickly shuffling out of the dressing rooms towards the cash register with newfound glee.
"childe," you whine. "i don't think these will fit in my closet."
his hands crawl lower, his finger hovering over your clit. "then they'll fit in mine. come over any time of the week when you want to wear one of my special pretty things."
your breath hitches as he rubs slow circles on your clit. he pushes the two of you back into the dressing room and closes the curtains.
"what are you doing, she'll be back any second—"
he kisses the corner of your jaw, pressing his lips close to your ear. "no worries. if there's one thing i'm sure about, it's that no one undresses you faster than i do."
wednesday is when usually everything calms down. kazuha will typically invite you to a new park, scenic route, or gallery. together, you'll write haikus, sonnets, and limericks together. some hours you'll just sit in silence, putting pen to paper. and when the sun goes down you'll exchange poetry.
out of the seven men, kazuha probably scares you the most. he was the first person you decided to do this whole ordeal with, after all. and since he's known you the longest, he also knows about your circumstances more than others. maybe that's why he's so focused on treating you as if you were a fragile cherry blossom petal. his touches feel like ghosts, running down your forearm as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek.
in exchange for his protection, his money, and his care, you give him honeyed words. you act as his muse for when he's hit a creative block. you're there to listen to him read out verses when the wind can't bear the strength to carry them. you listen to his grief about his best friend, his loneliness when he was forced to leave his home country. as someone many of the locals looked to for wisdom, he too carried the emotional burdens of being someone's rock. emotional burdens that he let onto you (whether purposefully or not, you're unsure). but you listen anyway, hearing him talk about days of poverty, where sometimes he had to worry about things to eat, or how to get proper healthcare.
you can't lie and say you're always stable enough to hear some of the things he has to say, but you try.
even if you sometimes feel like you can't take it, you just smile and squeeze his hand tighter like you're supposed to. sometimes your mind will go on autopilot, and sometimes you'll stand up on the grounds of needing to go to the bathroom. but at the end of the day, this is what you signed up for. this. making men happy so that you yourself won't have to worry about your endless debt.
you peer over your notebook to see kazuha immersed in his own writing. but instead of his usual peaceful expression, he looks somber. his hands won't leave the paper, his eyes glued onto the words that he's drawn onto the pages.
"what's got you so worked up?" you ask curiously. "is it something new?"
it's like your voice snaps him out of his trance. he blinks, looking up at you. there's a smile you know all too well on his lips. "yeah, i suppose you could call it that."
"could i look at it? i want to see what's got you so focused like that."
his lips press into a straight line. "hmmm, maybe later."
his words catch you off-guard. usually he's the one who's eager to share his work, regardless of the quality. "oh? is it something you want to keep secret?"
he doesn't many any hint of an answer. instead, he puts down his pen and stares at the ground in contemplation. he's picking and choosing what words to say.
"i could protect you," he says, shuffling his papers to the side. you turn to him, curious. his expression slowly hardens. "by myself, i mean. i could take care of you."
"kazu—"
"i have the means to make a living for the both of us. i could sell more of my poetry, i know they'll sell well—"
"where is this coming from?" you move closer to him, brushing his hair aside. "kazu, are you worried about something?"
there's something that's stopping him from saying anything. his fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.
he purses his lips, before turning away and sighing. "no, not really."
after that, he doesn't say anything else. the two of you bask in silence once again. even though you're used to the quiet, there's something deep down in you that feels nervous. like something in the atmosphere changed. there's a sudden resolved glint in his eye as he get backs to writing so diligently on a piece of paper he won't let you read.
after all these days spent talking about himself, somehow you're scared for the day he suddenly decides to stop.
on thursdays you're usually at tighnari's greenhouse, watching him take notes of other plants while you twiddle your thumbs. once in a while, he'll begin rambling about the plants—what kind of species they are, how rare, their medicinal properties, and the like.
you're more of a companion, than anything. someone who can make his days a little less lonelier. and you appreciate it. it's much more tranquil with him. you can enjoy his sharp quips, especially when cyno comes to visit.
his sex-drive is relatively normal, if not a little below average. just like wednesday, you also expect thursday to be a typical rest day.
except when spring comes.
when spring comes, your routine get a little wonky. for one week, at least. because that's when tighnari's heat hits him like a fucking monsoon.
you can already tell when it's coming when he begins to hover closer to you. whenever you take your hand out to do anything, even the slightest gesture, he's already taking it and dragging it towards his sensitive ears.
the moment you've made your plans set to 'take the week off' and help him out, he's already on you, face pressed into your neck as if it's his oasis.
as you can tell, he takes this week very seriously.
"i bet—shit—those other fucks don't get to hold you as long as i do," he lets out as he fucks into you like there's no tomorrow. his hands hold onto your waist like he owns it, pressing sloppy kisses down your spine. "looking so pretty for me. i wonder what they'd say if you got pregnant with my babies. you'd be so much more beautiful plump with my kids. is that what you want huh? to make them angry with my cum stuffed in your gorgeous pussy?"
some days you almost can't believe how uncharacteristically aggressive he is. he dicks you down like he's trying to imprint his shape into the core of your body so that none of the others can fit inside.
and when he cums, he'll take whatever unfortunate portions slip out and smear it all over your chest. especially where your heart is.
then the process starts all over again.
when it's over, he'll spoon you. as if he didn't almost fuck you to death. his touch is tender, like a ghost's hovering over your skin.
"why won't you leave them all for me?"
you shift a little to look at him and kiss him softy, sweetly, on the line of his jaw. "oh, nari, you know i can't."
his ears droop at your words. "you can't, or you won't."
his words make you freeze a bit.
you think back to last week, and the week before, and the one before that. you think about why you started selling your services in the first place, the endless debt you used to be in, and the progression of the relationship between all seven of your...contacts. even if you wanted to, you don't think you could back out if you tried. you've dug a hole for yourself. one deep enough to cause some sort of disruption if you ever decided to stop digging.
so you just hum. "you know how much i love routine."
as some sort of apology, you give him and open-mouthed kiss, one he's almost desperate to return. he moans, hands cupping your face to bring you closer to him.
you're well unaware how much your words have an impact him.
at the end of the week, all al-haitham wants to do is unwind. it's the only logical thing to do. no late-night drinks with the colleagues, no stressful trips to some tourist trap. on fridays, al-haitham comes home to a meal made with love.
when al-haitham's at work during the day, you're usually running your actual errands. it's when you have time to make those one-in-a-blue-moon visits to your actual home, although it's getting harder to call it that.
when it gets to the late-afternoon, you'll usually head to al-haitham's place to start cooking. if you didn't know how to cook before, you do now. every ingredient is handled with care, measured meticulously just as you knew he preferred.
and when he gets home, tired and stressed out, you're there to welcome him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
during dinner, sometimes he'll talk to you about work or the latest research he'd gotten himself immersed with. in return, you tell him about some of your childhood memories. your likes, your dislikes, what used to be your hobbies. you do your best to keep your personal matters out of the conversation, no matter how many times he tries to pry into your private life.
sometimes dinners feel like a full on investigation, the way he keeps greeding for more information about you. he watches you eat with calculating eyes. you pretend to pay no mind to it.
in the beginning, kaveh used to join you for dinners. you always liked the guy, the way he bickered with al-haitham and riled him up. but now you've begun to see less of him, as if he never comes home on fridays at all.
after dinner, there are two different outcomes depending on his mood:
outcome one is that you'll spend the rest of the night curling up on his couch, the both of you immersed in your own books. al-haitham leans on your shoulder as he flips through the pages as if they're nothing. you can't help but feel ticklish whenever his hair brushes against your jaw.
somewhere in the middle, he'll move one hand to start fidgeting with the end of your shirt, sometimes crawling underneath to caress your sides.
outcome two is less quiet. the moment he gets home with that solemn face, you know it's coming. his voice is huskier, his responses shorter. it's usually a result of an impending deadline, colleagues being more peskier than usual.
the moment you two are done with dishes, he gingerly takes your hand and leads you up to the bedroom.
his kisses tastes like green tea and dinner. his hands run up and down your torso, trying to imprint the feel of your skin into every inch of your brain. you whimper when his thumbs press softly into your nipples, rolling them around as they harden.
your hands find purchase on his collar, tugging him impossibly close. he groans at the contact.
you let out a yelp when your back suddenly falls onto the bed. your hands are pressed onto the sheets, al-haitham's fingers encircling your wrists. his knee nudges your legs further apart, rubbing at your clit.
"don't look at the ceiling, dear, look at me," he breathes out, his hands leaving your nipples to gently guide your face towards. "that's it. good girl. just me. just look at me. only me."
he smiles.
"now, let me do god's work on your divine body."
saturdays with ayato can sometimes get hectic. some saturdays you're out getting bubble tea together and enjoying the city, and other saturdays you're hurrying to some publicitiy event hosted by the kamisato clan.
on those type of days, you can expect to wear gowns layered with shiny nylon tulle fabric. it's not as revealing as what you'd try on in dressing rooms with childe. in fact, it's a bit more modest.
today you're wearing a light-blue gown to match with ayato. you turn around to get a good look at the cute bow attached at your waist, your diamond encrusted earrings swaying along with you.
it's as if you've put on another costume. another front to wear for the night.
ayato enters the room just shortly after. in his hands is a diamond necklace to match with your stunning earrings. small smile falls upon his lips when he clasps it on.
"you're beautiful," he mumbles. you giggle when he kisses you square on the lips, licking away the tinted color.
"ayato," you press in-between kisses. you place a hand on his chest to gently push him away. "you're going to ruin my lipstick."
he pulls away with a cheeky smile, taking your wrists to wrap around his neck. "you can always put on some more later."
you pout but kiss him regardless. he tightens his hold on you in reaction, moaning into your mouth.
at these kinds of events, you're there as his plus-one. just so that other officials could stop introducing girls to him when he clearly wasn't interested in them. it'd be arguable to say that you might even be there to make the events a little less intolerable.
somewhere along the lines, you'd sleep with him in addition to being his arm candy at parties. sometimes even before: you two rushing to put on your formal attires and fix your hair minutes before the event started.
but beyond that, you started to get to know him better. he'd whisper into your ear about funny stories relating to the guests as you meet them. sometimes you'd run away in the middle of the party to binge out on the food and talk about your other interests. surprisingly, he doesn't talk about the politics behind his duties as the head of the kamisato family. not as much as you expected, at least.
instead he talks about his dreams for a family. how many kids, what their names would be, how he'd raise them. and as he talked, he'd give you this heavy gaze that you're not sure what to do with. as if he was expecting something from you.
you're beginning to believe that ayato has somehow confused contractual girlfriend with actual girlfriend.
when you had met ayaka months ago, ayato introduced you as his girlfriend. you didn't attempt to correct him—that's ayato's business. not your's. but when you're expecting ayato to come clean to his dearest sister, you're sorely mistaken.
instead, while he kisses your lips so hungrily, he subtly slips a diamond ring onto your finger.
sundays are usually kaeya's days off. although the cavalry captain's duties are seemingly never endless, he takes the day off to take a breather.
in other words, he sees you.
at first, it was just candlelit dinners. he'd walk in with a bouquet of roses, complimenting your dress and staring at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes. he'd take you to somewhere fancy, pull out the chair for you and sweet-talk you all through the night.
conversations were fun with him. you didn't have to think much at all, not about how to pay the bills, the six men in your life who seemingly began to want yours to only revolve around theirs, or being someone your not.
kaeya was probably the only one who you felt you could be comfortable with. he made you laugh, he'd tell all sorts of interesting stories, and he never made the silence feel awkward.
at least, that's how you used to be.
you see, usually after these candlelit dinners you'd both go back to his place, with him ripping off your clothes the moment the door closed. but as of recently, he's been asking to come over to your place instead more often. almost too often.
and that's not the only thing that's changed.
the sex used to be rough. heated. almost as if he was consumed by all of his pent-up sexual frustration and was only focused on getting off. he'd slurp your cunt like a man starved but he'd still rail you as if that's the only thing he cared about.
but as time passed, he's been getting more and more...sensual. the sex is much more slower. personal, almost.
vulnerable.
after dinner, he slowly slips off your clothing. one article after another, until your left in your underwear. he first kisses you on the mouth, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. slowly, he makes a trail of them down your body, as if no skin deserved to be left untouched.
although you made a rule that no one could leave your marks on you, it doesn't mean he doesn't try. as he kisses your lower lips, sometimes he'll attempt to leave marks close to your clit. if you're not careful, diluc will find it tomorrow.
his thrusts were always deep, but now that he's much more purposeful about it. it's rhythmic, as if he's trying to reach a new spot inside you. somewhere no one's touched.
the pillow-talks are much more longer as well. he holds you tighter now, wrapping his arms around your hips as he tangles his legs with yours.
instead of ranting on about the silly incidents he witnessed on the job earlier in the week, he talks about his feelings. towards you. towards diluc. towards himself. some nights you can handle it, some nights are too much.
but you can't say anything. not when he's holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. not when he helps you pay off your debt. and so you let his raspy voice whisper in your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair. you listen to him mumble sweet-nothings.
you're not sure if you like the adoring look he gives you as you drift off to sleep.
#genshin x reader#diluc x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#kazuha x reader#ayato x reader#alhaitham x reader#al haitam x reader#tighnari x reader#kaeya x reader#kaeya smut#genshin smut#yandere x reader#yanderes x reader#yandere imagines#tw yandere#male yandere#male yandere x reader#manipulation#tw power dynamics#fem reader#bro the way i've been lowk procrastinating on this#reverse harem x reader#yandere reverse harem#minors dni#jojo writes nsfw/dark content
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raspberry leaves
pairing: poly!geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru [jjk au]
warnings: jjk au! geto doesn't defect and everything is happy :)) cursing, periods, severe cramps, painkillers and mentions of taking more than you're supposed to (three instead of two), lots of talk of pain, mentions of vomiting, passing out, panic, mentions of death, mentions of burning yourself, probably ooc megumi but he's a kid here (probably gojo too but I can't not write him soft), family au!, megumi tsumiki and the twins are here!, probably taking liberties on how gojo's technique works but oops, this is for the girlies with severe period symptoms :'), major hurt/comfort
word count: 12.5k
a/n: drops this and yells "scatter!" and disappears back into seclusion. I did not proofread this :)
Gojo Satoru has never woken up so terrified in his life.
It’s a horrifying thing; to wake up lurching from your sheets as the love of your life cries out in panic just a few hours past midnight. For a moment, Satoru thinks he’s dying – or that he should be – because as he rips his sheets away from his legs, racing to his feet with his pulse already roaring in his eardrums, he turns to find Geto Suguru crumbling to his knees. The dark-haired man is the one who shouted, his hands fumbling to grasp another figure, their body limp and hanging useless in Suguru’s arms.
It’s your frame, clutched tight in Suguru’s big hands, that steals the breath from Satoru’s lungs. Ripping any semblance of oxygen right from his chest, the Six Eyes user is left stumbling on his feet to reach his spouses as they crumble to the floor – you limp in Suguru’s grip as you fall unconscious.
Suguru shouts, a desperate cry of your name as he finally sinks to the bathroom floor, urgently scrambling to cradle your weight against him and support your figure. When he’s settled on the ground, a hand carefully cradling your face, Suguru looks up at Satoru, panic in his features and his heart in his throat. For a tense second, neither man speaks, too terrified to properly ascertain the situation. Then, Satoru chokes out a desperate question as he stumbles into the doorframe, clutching the wood until he swears it could splinter beneath his hands.
“What happened?”
But let’s rewind a moment, shall we?
It starts two hours after midnight – well, it starts long before that, but it’s that moment you finally decide to pull yourself from the sheets and stumble into the bathroom. That moment, the one of shortened breaths and a weak whimper, is the one to incite the inferno that will wake Gojo Satoru in an hour or so.
You’ve been awake for hours. Sleep was a stubborn thing; an obstinate, pig-headed bastard that wouldn’t allow you the mercy of relief even hours after you’ve been awake clutching your stomach and trying desperately not to cry.
It’s agony. Beginning in your left side and rippling through the entirety of your stomach and down your legs, the cramping sensation seizes you with another tight fist and squeezes. It’s agony, and it’s been keeping you awake for hours.
Your period is merciless.
You’ve always had terrible cramps. That was a notion you had grown used to when you were young. Painkillers could only do so much, and you hated to have to take as many as you did just to function near normally. The first day of shark week was always terrible, but this? This was pure agony, and you were nearing your breaking point.
It festered for hours in your stomach, sending cramps through your form in catastrophic waves and pushing against your belly until you thought you were truly going to die. The urge to use the restroom is horrible, but each time you drag yourself to the ensuite bathroom, you sit there as another wave of agony nearly pulls you to your knees. You’re sweaty and tired, figure quivering as another rippling cramp seizes your legs, and you’ve never wanted anything more than the sweet relief of slumber.
Nothing seems to help.
A hot water bottle is pressed against your stomach, the liquid inside near boiling as you clutch it against your bare skin – a bad idea, you know, but the sensation of the burn is nowhere near as terrible as the cramps. You’ve downed three painkillers a few hours ago, probably another bad idea, but you’re desperate now.
You don’t want to wake Suguru or Satoru. It’s a Sunday night, and you know they both have work early tomorrow morning. They have to get the kids to school too. The four of your children always pile into one of your husband’s nice cars just a few hours past dawn. The kids get dropped off at primary school on their way to work, since it’s just around the corner from Jujutsu High.
You can’t tear their few precious hours of sleep away from them.
Not for this.
There’s nothing they can do – nothing you can do but sit and try to ride out the waves of crippling agony until they finally stop.
You’ve done this before. These cramps aren’t new. You can deal with them on your own.
Can’t you?
But as you repress a broken sob, pulling yourself away from the silk of your sheets and into the bathroom once more, you’re not quite sure.
When you reach the ensuite bathroom, another cramp surges through you and the tears you’ve been desperately withholding finally burst forth. Pressing your weight into the wall as the door slides shut, you click the lock and finally allow yourself to crumple. Your head pushes into your knees as you sob, trying to keep your cries quiet and muffled against your hand as the other clutches the hot water bottle against the throb of your stomach.
You’re tired. You’re tired and you’re in so much pain that your fingers tremble and your legs shake. It’s awful, and you just want to sleep.
But your uterus must hate you, because your stomach lurches and you scramble to lean over the toilet as you dry heave. You’ve never vomited on your period, but it sure does feel like you will.
Your skin itches. From the sweat or the general grime, you don’t know, but you hate it. Your chest shakes with another sob and your fists squeeze tight as you whine out a horrible sound of agony. It’s too much and you wish it would just stop. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh out a choked sound as you curl into yourself.
“Stop,” you whine brokenly, too defeated to even understand who you’re pleading to. “Please stop.”
Geto Suguru wakes up a few moments later.
He doesn’t know what pulls him from slumber at first. His brow furrows as consciousness returns, a deep breath leaving his nose as he sighs and takes in the feeling of body weight pressed into his chest. It’s a muscular figure, long and tall, so it must be Satoru. He’s pressed into Suguru’s stomach, body curled small in a near comical way as he attempts to tuck himself beneath Suguru’s chin. The long-haired man nearly huffs a chuckle as he pries open his tired eyes to see his partner.
Suguru runs a loving hand over the mess of pale white strands that fall into Satoru’s eyes, his lips quirking upwards softly as he smiles. Satoru nuzzles closer in his sleep, letting out a happy sigh as Suguru runs his nails through the other’s undercut. Then Suguru shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly to find you as his hand reaches out to pull you closer.
But you’re not there.
Suguru startles. Jolting silently as his heart skips a frightened beat, the sorcerer’s eyes rip open as they dilate. His hand finds an empty bed, the sheets cold and the imprint of your figure long lost. Suguru carefully untangles himself from his lover’s long limbs, his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he sits upright.
“Baby?” his deep, tired voice rumbles in question. Where are you? He nearly asks, heart pounding in his chest. Are the kids okay?
Suguru knew it was weird you had chosen to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. You’re usually more than happy to bury yourself in between them, cuddling close and nuzzling into their chests as you try to pull yourself even tighter into their embrace.
But last night, you gently pushed Suguru into your place, offering him a wave of your hand and a lame excuse as to why you wanted to sleep on the outside. Something about not wanting to sleep yet, he remembers.
He waits a moment, hoping you’ve just gotten up to use the restroom and you’ll return to them soon. The sound of Satoru’s quiet breaths echo through the space, and has to fill the long seconds by tracing his fingers over his lover’s back. Tracing gentle lines over the defined muscles, Suguru sighs softly and tries to calm his racing pulse.
A minute passes. Then another. And one more – until Suguru isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting.
Then Suguru cannot resist the swell of panic that ripples through his stomach.
His heart lurches in his chest as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, too panicked to offer Satoru more than a hushed sound and a stroke over his back when he tiredly mumbles in protest.
“‘M just gettin’ up for a sec,’” he mumbles quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees the light in the bathroom on. “I’ll be back, love.”
Satoru grumbles something else, but is soothed when Suguru presses a gentle kiss to his brow.
“M’kay,” Satoru sighs, easily falling back asleep as he snuggles into the warmth Suguru left behind on the bed. If he wasn’t so worried, Suguru would smile, his heart clenching tight in his chest as he watches Satoru curl into his spot with a soft sound.
When Suguru stands, adjusting his sweats as he quietly makes his way to the bathroom, he pulls his hair from his eyes. Brushing the strands over his bare shoulder, he sighs as he fiddles for a hair tie in his pocket. He doesn't find one, so he simply pushes the dark strands back from his brow, letting them fall behind him and settle against his bare back.
You’ve always liked it when his hair is loose anyway.
Suguru knocks on the bathroom door first. It’s quiet, but you should be able to hear it. When you don’t respond, Suguru frowns and tries again. Knocking gently once more, he swallows as another wave of panic curls in his stomach.
“Sweetheart?” he tries quietly, voice still rumbling deeply from the slumber he was pulled from. “You’ve been in there a while, honey. Are you alright?”
Still, you don’t respond.
You want to. Of course you want to. It’s Suguru, and you don’t want to worry him.
But the waves of agonizing cramps have stolen your voice. All you can do is sit still and breathe. You feel utterly useless. There’s nothing you can do but control the slow pace of your breaths in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the crippling sensation radiating from your stomach.
You want to respond – tell him you’re alright, tell him something, but the agony seals your lips shut. It’s horrible and another wave of tears spill from your tired eyes. You hate it. You wish you would stop crying; it’s not helping and it only makes you feel weak.
“Baby? I’m gettin’ worried.”
All you can manage is a sad, weak sound in response. It leaves your lips in more a sob than a hum, and you muffle the tears that shiver through you after.
“Honey!” Suguru murmurs worriedly, trying to twist the handle of the door, only to curse when he discovers it’s locked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
He shifts on his feet, lifting a hand to pull on the strands on his hair to soothe some of his panic. The sound you manage in response is another broken hum, and it only worsens the thundering pulse of Suguru’s heart. His gut twists as he tries the knob again, as if a few seconds will have changed the status of the lock.
You whine and Suguru swears his heart cracks. His head presses against the door as his eyes squeeze shut, fist still closed around the handle.
“Can you open the door f’me, sweetheart?” he murmurs desperately. “‘M really worried about you.”
Your eyes close, the watery burn rendering them useless as you sniffle. You huff around another breath of pain, pushing your head further into your knees. Trembling softly as your skin flushes, you battle against the waves of agony and the flash of heat that makes you feel sickly. Another wave of nausea ripples in your gut, and you remember how awful you must look.
Your hair is plastered against your head and your neck and you must look a mess. Wearing a pair of oversized sweats and one of Suguru’s shirts, you feel utterly gross. More than anything you want to open the door and let Suguru take you in his arms. Cuddling into his firm chest and feeling his big arms wrap around you would probably feel nice, but you’re all too aware of how sickly you must look.
You don’t want him to see you like this: sweaty, messy and sick as you curl in on yourself as you weep through another terrible cramp. You just want to sleep – you want it to stop, everything needs to stop.
Suguru hums out another question, but you don’t really hear it. It’s not until you hear the lilt of panic in his voice and his voice fiddling with the handle of the door do you manage to find your voice.
“Sugu…”
He startles. Head darting up to the door in front of him, Suguru breathes a sigh of relief and chokes out your name.
“Open the door, darling,” he whispers softly. “Please…”
You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it. Frowning as you sniffle, you lick your lips to taste salt and the disgusting hint of snot. You’re a mess, and you don’t want him to see you.
“No, Sugu,” you manage to mutter, head knocking back to rest against the wall as you continue to focus on breathing through your mouth. You visibly shiver through another cramp, this time seizing and whining as it echoes through your legs.
Suguru bites down on his lip, feeling another sliver of his heart crack at the broken sound of your voice. It pains him, your defeated sigh. He desperately wants to comfort you, to bring you into his chest and kiss your tears away. His hands ache to touch your skin, to feel the warmth he knows by heart. Closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against the wood of the door, Suguru sighs and swallows as he speaks again.
“Why not?” he murmurs worriedly, voice clipping words from fatigue pulling at his figure. “I need t’know you’re alright, my love.”
“Don’t wan’ you t’see me.”
Suguru’s head tilts and the lump in his throat swells. Heart clenching sadly, one of his hands lifts to rest on the door, as if he can reach you on the other side if he tries hard enough. He knows he can get through this door if he really wanted. It would be too easy for him to splinter the frame with his strength alone, and he has more than one curse at his disposal that could pick a lock smoothly.
It’s the sound of your voice that holds him back.
You’re so… tired. You’re broken whisper echoes through the wooden door with a sad coo, and it makes Suguru’s chest ache.
“My sweet girl…” Suguru whispers, fingers trailing across the wood like they’re desperate to stroke across your cheek. “Why don’t you want me to see you?”
You frustratedly sigh, cursing the tears that continue to track down your cheeks. No matter what you do, they keep dripping over your skin in tiny rivulets, staining your face with tracks of dried salt. You wipe them away but they’re quickly replaced by another stream.
You just want to sleep.
“I don’t feel good, Sugu,” you sigh tiredly, voice quivering around tears. It’s pathetic – how watery you sound. You wish you were stronger. “I look bad and I don’t want wan’ t’keep you an’ Toru awake.”
You don’t feel good? He nearly questions. Why didn’t you wake me?
But all he does is sigh softly, fists clenching against the door. For a moment he contemplates waking Satoru, knowing you probably won’t be able to resist them both. Though, when he turns over his shoulder, Suguru sees the bags beneath his lover’s eyes and the tired slump of his form in their sheets.
Satoru needs his sleep. It’s difficult enough for him to find slumber when the Six Eyes strains him dry.
Suguru lets him rest.
He murmurs your name again, his eyes closing as he continues to rest against the door.
“I’m in love with you, you know?” Suguru sighs sweetly, his lips lifting slightly to reveal a fond smile. “You could never ‘look bad’ to me, my darling.”
Shifting on his feet and looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders sag as he worries. What if you don’t open the door? He’s considering settling on the floor with his back against the door when he whispers again.
“And you don’t need t’worry about keepin’ me awake, alright? I want you t’come to me when you’re not feeling good.”
He pauses once, dropping his hand from the knob as he breathes.
“I worry about you, honey,” he finishes. “I just need to know you’re okay.”
You sniffle, feeling the cramp finally seep away to nothing. They’re not over, you can feel another wave rising from beneath the last, but at least they offer you a single moment to reach up and twist the lock.
It’s too much for you to handle alone.
You want to bury yourself in Suguru’s strong arms and weep as the pain shivers through you. If there’s nothing you can do to soothe the agony, then at least you won’t be alone.
“Okay.”
Suguru hears the lock click.
Gasping softly, he pulls himself upright and reaches down to grip the handle of the door with a skip of his heart. He was pondering waiting outside the door in the fading light of the moon when you whispered the tired word. His chest aches when he twists the knob, pulling the door open to reveal your figure.
You’re curled on the floor, calves crossed and legs pulled into your chest as you bury your head into your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself, one hand clutching the hot water bottle pressed tightly to your stomach.
Suguru frowns, his heart thumping sadly as you weep out another broken sound. His entire body aches in a way he cannot describe, physically pained at the choked sounds of agony leaving your lips. He’s already on his knees at your side when you lift your head, looking up at him through your tears and your lip quivering in a way he knows you cannot control.
He’s never seen you look so hurt.
“Oh, sweetheart…” he coos quietly, putting the pieces together as you shiver through another wave of crippling cramps, hand squeezing tight around your leg – your period. “You’re not alright.”
“No,” you weep, shaking your head with watery eyes leaking salty droplets down your cheeks, and you suck in a shaking breath as your fists clench. Your brow furrows as your eyelids squeeze shut, unable to mask the pain as it ripples through you. Suguru’s face softens into an expression of pain, frowning sadly. You have a high pain tolerance for your period cramps – he knows that. You’ve had painful periods your whole life, and he and Satoru have seen you conceal the agony in your features for years.
This is a knife to his heart.
You can’t conceal the sweat on your brow, nor the tremble of your fingers and the painful gasp of breath you suck in when the pain returns tenfold.
“It hurts, Sugu…”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, desperately wishing there’s something he can do to stall the agony. “C’mere, honey.”
Suguru’s mouth twists into an expression of pain, and he carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you away from the wall, the dark-haired man maneuvers you into his chest as he sits onto the floor. You twist into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his frame as you weep softly into his bare chest, caring little for the tears that stain his skin. Suguru could care less. He’s far too worried about the expression plastered onto your features and the shiver that trembles through you.
“How long have you been up?” he whispers as he cradles you in his lap, hand stroking over your hair and strong arm wrapping around you.
You shake your head and Suguru’s frown deepens – if it’s even possible.
“Haven’t slept yet.”
Suguru’s hair falls into his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss between your brows. He stays there, breathing through his noses as he continues to lay tiny kisses to your forehead. His eyes screw shut, hand stroking over your cheek as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace.
Your skin is warm, flushed with heat and your hair sticks to your forehead in a way Suguru knows must make you feel sickly. He carefully strokes the strands away and kisses the skin beneath with a soft sigh.
“Have you been awake all night?” he finally whispers, voice deep and quietly sad. “With cramps like this?”
You nod into his chest, wincing again and closing your eyes as you sob through another agonizing cramp. Your legs shake as you tuck them into yourself together, trying desperately to push the hot water bottle deeper into your skin.
“Oh, baby…” he sighs, leaning back to rest against the wall and pull you back into him. He strokes another hand across your face, thumbing the space between your brows when he sees the way they’re scrunched. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
You sigh and breathe a few times to steady yourself, slowly loosening your fists when Suguru pries your fingers open to intertwine his own around yours. He pulls your hands into his chest, tucking them by his heart so you can feel the pulse of his heart. He hopes you don’t notice how quick it’s beating. He’s still worried. Suguru cannot help the way his heart lurches when you wince. As if each throb of agony is his own, Suguru buries his face closer to your own, clutching onto your hand and not faltering when you tighten your grip to counter the waves of pain echoing through you.
“You’ve got work in the morning,” you pant quietly, voice still watery and weak. “And you an’ Toru gotta’ take the kids.”
“Honey…” he sighs sweetly. “You’re in pain… I want you t’wake me if you’re in pain, sweetheart. No amount of sleep could soothe me if you’re hurt and alone.”
You manage a hum in response, face still screwed shut and Suguru frowns when you muffle another sob as a cramp seizes you once more.
“Okay, baby… Okay,” he whispers, rocking you into him a little in an attempt to distract you. Now is not the time for a lecture, he supposes.“You’re alright, darling. You’re gonna be alright.”
He hates the sound of your tears.
When you shudder through another agonizing sound, Suguru’s face crumples. He’s never felt so useless. You’re in agony, and he can do nothing to fix it.
“You took your painkillers?”
You nod again, weeping into his chest and squeezing his hand tight.
“Three,” you mumble tiredly, focusing on the feeling of Suguru’s warm, bare chest pressed against your skin. It’s grounding and you don’t want to move. “They aren’t working.”
“How long ago?”
He doesn't want to pester you with questions, but he’s desperately pulling at strings, hoping one will grant him the solution to your pain.
“Midnight,” you manage. You wince again, and Suguru peppers kisses along your hairline, gently hushing you. You curl tighter into yourself, desperately huffing as the pain continues to swell higher. It feels like it will break at any moment, but it just… doesn’t. The agony continues to rise, as if there is no limit to its torment. The cramping sensation just comes back again and again, until you’re sure that there’s something wrong. How can a period be so painful?
“It hurts so bad, Sugu,” you cry, reaching the end of your tether. You’re desperate for the ache to stop, but it feels like there’s no point of end in sight. “I just want it to stop…”
Suguru feels his stomach twist, heart crying out in a pattern of your name. He pulls you tighter, a wave of his own tears swelling behind his eyes. Your cries chip at his heart, pieces of his soul falling apart in your agony. He wishes he could do something – use some kind of technique to null the pain, to soothe you, anything.
“I know, honey,” he soothes, cradling you closer and rubbing his finger over your cheek as he murmurs into your hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry I can’t take this from you.”
You shake your head, clutching him tight as you attempt to focus on your breaths again. Hand wrapped tightly around his own, you try to use his touch as a grounding sensation. Eventually, the lulling motion of his finger over your cheek and his lips at your hairline soothe some of the tension beneath your skin. You relax into his touch despite the continuous waves of cramps still panging through your stomach.
“Just stay,” you weep, lifting your other hand from your stomach to clutch behind Suguru’s head. You hold onto his neck, burying your fingers in his soft hair and desperately inhale his familiar scent. Suguru is familiar – he’s safe. “Please…”
You don’t have to worry about anything as long as Suguru and Satoru are around.
“Always, sweetheart,” he whispers against you, dropping the hand at your cheek to press your hot water bottle into your stomach for you. “Always. You don’t have t’ask.”
His large hand keeps your bottle in place, spreading across your stomach and rubbing soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. His hand is big enough to settle on your stomach and the fabric of your hot water bottle.
Suguru hates this. He hates seeing you in pain. He hates that all he can do is sit and press delicate kisses to your hairline as you writhe in agony. It physically pains him to be unable to help – to have to watch as one of the loves of his life suffers.
Suguru buries his nose into your hair and kisses you once more, whispering sweet words of encouragement and humming in an attempt to distract you. He loves you so much, and he hopes you know that.
“You’re doing so well, my darling.”
Eventually, the wave passes, and you limply release your intense grip on his fingers and relax into his hold. It’s a slow process. Finally succumbing to some brief glimpse of exhaustion, you slip loosely into Suguru’s hold and trust him to catch you. There will be another cramp soon, but at least this one is over. You breathe out a sigh and look up at Suguru with tears on your lashes.
Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes, and Suguru has never looked more beautiful to you. Sitting on the bathroom floor with you three hours past midnight, no shirt and a loose pair of sweats on his hips (ones he’s not sure are his own), and Suguru has never looked so endearing. The way he looks down at you, bangs dangling in front of his dark eyes and full lips leaning down to kiss your face gently; he’s princely.
Your heart finally slows to an acceptable pace as Suguru leans down, and you close your eyes as he lays a soft kiss to one of your eyelids. His full lips peck sweetly against one, then he leans away to kiss the other. Your eyes well with tears again, but this time you think they’re for a different reason.
“Hi,” he whispers sweetly, lips lifting to show you that tiny smile of his that makes your heart do funny things. You’re too tired to offer much more than a sigh and a quirk of your lips, but Suguru is grateful for the expression all the same.
“Hi, Sugu.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
You shake your head, sighing quietly as you shift.
“Not really.”
Suguru frowns again, and you’re tempted to lift your thumbs to pull his lips upwards again. Suguru looks so much prettier when he smiles.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers. “Do you wanna get off the floor, at least? The bed’s much more comfortable and Toru’s gonna start worrying soon.”
You figure now is the best time to try moving, so you nod. There’s probably only a few minutes between these waves of terrible cramps, so you’ll take the moment you have to get back into bed.
“M’kay,” you sigh tiredly. Suguru's expression softens for a reason you don’t understand, but the sorcerer fondly smiles as he thinks of the same sound Satoru had made just minutes before.
“Alright, love. Let’s get you up, alright?”
You nod again, allowing Suguru to unwind his limbs from yours. He softly chuckles when you whine as his fingers unlace from your own, but readjusts his grip to carefully pull you to stand. He holds his other hand out, tenderly helping you stand.
“Careful…” he whispers. “Go slow, baby.”
Your head spins as you stand and you lift a hand to press against your temple. The rolling tide of nausea in your stomach had quelled for the time being, but the tremble of your legs is still too apparent. You step forward shakily, reaching out to grasp Suguru’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He returns the look with soft eyes and nods sweetly as he allows you to step out of the bathroom first.
When he’s certain you can stand on your own, Suguru turns over his shoulder to turn off the bathroom light and shut the door.
But he only gets so far.
Suddenly, you inhale sharply. Freezing in place, your body curls inwards on itself as a blinding swell of cramps overtakes your form. This one is sharp and crippling, radiating down your legs until even your calves feel weak. Your body is suddenly too hot, and the air is far too cold. Shivers trickle down your spine and you feel that all too familiar bolt of stifling panic strike through your chest. It runs through the entirety of your figure, sizzling beneath your skin and striking each nerve it passes. You feel that terrible curl of your stomach and the waves of oncoming panic filter through you.
You sway on your feet.
Something’s wrong. And it’s making you panic.
You open your mouth, lip quivering as you attempt to croak out a plea of Suguru’s name, but nothing comes. Some tired, broken whine leaves your lips instead – a desperate cry for help, for Suguru.
When Suguru turns around, head whipping over his shoulder sharply, he expects to see you headed towards his side of the bed. Instead, he’s met with your body swaying slightly as you pant and shiver. Suguru thinks his heart stops.
Then your body stills, and you crumple.
“Baby!”
Suguru throws himself forward, just managing to grab your figure as it goes limp. He sways, shifting your weight into his arms and panicking as you continue to sink into the floor. Your body is dead weight in his hands, still shivering but cold and unmoving.
He’s going to be sick.
His stomach curls as bile spills onto the back of his tongue, and Suguru can hear his heart pound in his ears. The lump is back in his throat, swelling until he can barely suck in a desperate breath to calm his panicked heart. Fuck, he’s never been so scared.
“Baby, oh fuck!” he cries, voice no longer quiet and delicate. Suguru openly shouts, desperately trying to carefully maneuver you to the floor, but his mind is screaming thousands of things at him at once. All he can hear is the roaring in his eardrums. His eyes scan over your limp figure and Suguru swears his heart cracks. He can feel it; deep within his chest, a splinter finally cleaves open.
“Oh my god, okay,” Suguru chokes out, carefully cradling you as he sinks to his knees. “You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, honey.”
He doesn’t know what to do. His heart is pounding and his soul is openly weeping. There are tears welling in his eyes and dragging down the pristine skin of his cheeks.
Suguru doesn't know what to do.
“Okay,” he whispers frightfully. “Okay…”
You’re laying on your back, facing the ceiling, and the way your blank expression stares back at him makes him nauseous.
“Sweetheart?” he calls carefully, brushing a hand over your cheek to push hair away from your face. “Baby, c’mon…”
You don’t respond. There’s not even a twitch in your brow or a flick of your fingers. You’re unconscious. Suguru’s heart accelerates again, pounding until he thinks it might burst from his bony rib cage. He turns over his shoulder with a broken cry, calling for the one person he so urgently needs.
“Satoru!”
His voice is panicked, shouted with a guttural cry and he thinks it might echo through the house, but Suguru vaguely hopes he doesn't wake the kids.
“Satoru, wake up!”
But Satoru is already awake.
Lurching forward in the bed, the Six Eyes user is already throwing the sheets away from his legs as he scans the room. His technique is activated, and Suguru can feel the familiar curtain of Infinity wrap around his body.
“Suguru?” Satoru calls as he stands, his body tense and prepared to fight. “What happened? Are you alright?”
Suguru doesn’t have the chance to respond, because Satoru steps forward and his crystalline eyes find his lover’s hunched figure crouched in the doorway of the bathroom, bent over the body of their wife. You’re limp on the floor, hair sprawled out beneath you as Suguru cradles your head and glances up at his partner with desperate, fearful eyes.
Satoru thinks he’s dying.
It’s the only possible explanation for the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the stuttered pulse of his heart. His legs wane at his knees, nearly propelling him into the floor, but Satoru manages to keep himself upright as he throws his hands forward to brace himself on the bathroom doorway.
“What…?” Satoru whispers breathily, voice uncharacteristically quiet – uncharacteristically weak. “What happened?”
His Six Eyes are activated, flickering over every crevice of your form. They’re urgent, desperate to find the source of your pain. When they find nothing, Satoru swallows back a sound of desperation.
“She passed out,” Suguru whispers plainly, panic evident in the quiver of his voice. “She started her period early, Toru. She’s in so much pain…”
Satoru feels his knees wane again. His heart can’t take much more of this. She’s in pain? His soul cries.
“She’s been laying on the bathroom floor crying,” his lover mumbles, stroking a hand over your cheekbone as a tear drips into his mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked her t’get up – she was weak and I didn’t think –”
“Suguru.”
The dark-haired sorcerer stops. Lifting his head to stare up at Satoru, Suguru frowns.
“This isn’t your fault, Suguru,” Satoru whispers, trying desperately to keep himself calm. His heart is in his throat and his pulse roars, but he cannot allow himself to weaken. Suguru needs him – you need him.
“She’s not waking up…”
Satoru sucks in a breath, his hands curling into the doorframe and gripping the wood until he thinks it will splinter beneath his grip. And it might. Satoru has to be mindful of the strength he uses.
‘She’s not waking up.’ The phrase echoes through his head until it’s the only thing he can process. You’re not waking up. His wife isn’t waking up.
“Is she…” Satoru doesn't even know if he can say what he wants to know – what he needs to know. The words make him ill. “Is she breathing?”
Suguru chokes out a desperate sound. He hadn’t even considered…
And he doesn't want to.
His hand seizes one of yours, wrapping tightly around your fingers as he pulls it into his chest as he did before. He pleads for you to wake up and feel his heart pulse against your fingers again, just as you had minutes ago. He delicately thumbs over your pulse point, hand sliding down your neck where he cradles your cheek.
Suguru openly weeps when the thumping beat of your heart races beneath his fingers in greeting.
“Yeah…” he sobs out weakly, pushing his forehead into your chest. “Yeah, she’s breathing.”
Satoru sags in relief.
“Okay,” he covers his mouth with one of his palms, trying to suppress the broken sound that nearly leaves him. “Okay, that’s good.”
Before either man can ascertain what to do, there's rustling at the doorway. It’s a quiet sound, just a soft coo and the creak of the door as it slides open. Satoru’s head whips around, his fingers twitching to activate his technique when he falters.
Because seven year old Fushiguro Megumi stands in the doorway: his son.
Megumi’s clutching a plush dog, one that looks remarkably familiar to his Divine Dogs. The soft, dark fur is cradled in his hands as he hugs the stuffed animal to his chest. The plush nearly conceals him entirely, and his dark, spiky hair pokes out over the red mark on the dog’s forehead. It’s a matching toy – the dark one was a gift from Suguru while the white counterpart came from Satoru. They were presents (custom-made plushies) ordered by his fathers when Megumi successfully summoned his Divine Dogs for the first time.
Satoru still whines when Megumi prefers the dark stuffed animal to the white one. But Satoru doesn't know that Megumi snuggles the alabaster-coated dog when he’s gone on long missions. The boy barely goes anywhere without it until his father comes home.
“What’s goin’ on?” Megumi tiredly mumbles, one of his hands lifting to rub at his eyes as he yawns. His too big shirt, one of Satoru’s shirts from their youth, hangs over his frame and covers his knees. You were the one to tuck your son into bed last night, and Satoru doesn’t have the moment to fondly think of his boy asking to wear one of his dad’s shirts to bed.
Satoru sucks in a quiet breath, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Suguru. His husband is still on the bathroom floor, bent over your unconscious figure, but he looks up at Satoru with a silent nod. He’s alright. You’re alright.
Satoru sighs and turns back to Megumi, suddenly glad the ensuite bathroom is hidden from the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn't want Megumi to see his mother unconscious, or his fathers’ panic. He doesn’t want Megumi to see him scared. Satoru is his father – he needs to show his son that everything is going to be alright.
Swallowing down his tempered fear, Satoru tries to conceal the quiver of his voice when he responds to his son.
“It’s –” Satoru stops. He can’t say ‘it’s nothing.’ Because it’s not nothing; and he won’t lie to his son. “It’s alright, Megumi.”
That’s what he decides to say instead. Satoru breathes through his nose deeply as he tries not to turn back over his shoulder to check on you again.
“Mama’s just having some cramps, she’ll be okay.”
Megumi nods. He knows what Satoru means, because Geto Suguru would be damned before he raised a son that thinks menstruation was ‘gross.’ Megumi doesn’t know everything – he’s still a kid, afterall. He does know, however, that his mother is plagued with terrible pain once a month, and that it’s completely natural to talk about it.
Megumi toddles on his feet, the fatigue of the early morning hour making him uncharacteristically soft. He’s usually quite stoic for a kid, exhibiting the same, blank sort of look impassively. But no matter how quiet, you and the boys are well-adept at deciphering your kid’s feelings by now.
With sleep tugging at his eyes, Megumi paws at his tired lids and yawns sweetly. Shifting his balance again, the boy looks up at Satoru with a tiny, sweet frown.
“Mama’s hurting?” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out slightly. His fists tighten around his stuffed dog, eyes shifting around Satoru to try to get a glimpse of you. Fortunately, Suguru has already readjusted you in his arms and you’re both hidden in the ensuite bathroom.
“Yeah…” Satoru coughs to conceal the tremor of his voice. “Yeah, Mama’s hurting a little. But she’s strong, remember? She’ll be alright, her cramps will go away soon.”
He doesn’t know if his words are an attempt to convince Megumi or himself.
From behind Satoru, Suguru strokes another thumb over your cheekbone. He inhales a shaking breath as he feels the frightful warmth of your skin.
“C’mon…” he whispers in the tiny space that separates you. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes again.”
Swallowing thickly, Suguru’s throat bobs as a tear begins to leak down his cheek.
“Please.”
He’s lost. Suguru doesn’t know what to do other than count the seconds since you’ve gone still in his arms. Each one feels longer than the last, but Suguru continues to count them. He doesn’t know why he does it. Perhaps some part of him thinks there is a certain point at which he’ll need to call for help. Is there a distinct period of time that has to pass before you need medical attention?
Suguru curses himself for not paying enough attention to Shoko’s basic first-aid lessons.
Satoru’s head flicks over his shoulder, crystalline-blue eyes finding your face as his heart clenches again. He’s conflicted. More than anything, he wants to drop to his knees at your side, just as Suguru has. He wants to clutch your remaining hand and feel the pulse of your heart as a reminder that you’re still there – still breathing. His heart hurts; torn between lingering at your side and comforting his son.
But then Satoru remembers the way you look at your kids. He recalls the fond crease of your eyes when you beam down at them, smiles shining and hands drawing them into you for an embrace. You love your kids more than anything, even though you’ve only had them for a few years now. Even though they’re not your biological kids, even though they’re not babies, and despite not even wanting children before them; they’re your pride and joy.
Satoru finds the strength within him to smile fondly. He knows you would be pushing him in Megumi’s direction if you had any semblance of consciousness right now.
Satoru tries not to frown at the reminder of your state.
Turning on his feet, Satoru steps away from the door, even as his heart cries out for him to return to your side. The remainder of his heart calls for his son – his boy, who is beginning to worry about his mother. It’s evident in the way Megumi shifts on his feet, fiddling with the soft fur of his stuffed pup.
When Satoru drops to his knees in front of Megumi, he spreads his arms wide in an invitation. He doesn’t expect Megumi to accept; he rarely does. Satoru is affectionate, it’s a sentiment clear as day, and Megumi usually prefers to avoid physical touch. He’s shy that way.
So Satoru is fondly surprised when Megumi toddles tiredly on his feet as he leans into his father’s embrace. Wrapping his arms tight around his son, Satoru stands from the floor with his heart beginning to return to a normal pace. Having Megumi in his arms is a comfort that soothes some of his rampaging nerves. The knowledge that the rest of his family is safe is a notion that eases some of the tension in his shoulders. Satoru knows he won’t find sleep for the rest of the night if he doesn’t peek into the girl’s room later to ensure they’re sleeping peacefully.
“It’s alright, Gumi,” Satoru whispers softly, stroking a hand through the spiky strands of the boy’s hair. Megumi rests his head on Satoru’s shoulder with a sigh. “Why did you wake up so early, bud?”
Megumi wraps an arm around Satoru’s neck, the other still cradling his pup between them. He closes his eyes and sighs sleepily once more as he mumbles in response.
“Heard Dad yell,” he tiredly whispers. He fiddles with a strand of Satoru’s white hair before he sheepishly continues. “I was scared…”
Satoru tries his hardest not to tease the boy. He knows it’s in his nature to make light of situations with humor, but Satoru also understands that this, perhaps, is not the time. Despite wanting to make Megumi feel better by laughing off the problem, Satoru also remembers the horrible strike of panic that had bolted through him when he heard Suguru yell.
Waking up to Suguru crying out for you as you collapsed was horrifying, and Satoru can only imagine how frightening it was for Megumi.
“Oh Gumi, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers, rocking on his feet in an attempt to comfort the boy. Even though Megumi isn’t a baby, Satoru cannot help the instinctive sway of his feet as he runs a hand through his hair. “Dad didn’t mean to shout, pup. He was just worried about Mom.”
Megumi nods softly, snuggling closer to Satoru’s chest in a way that makes the father’s heart ache.
“Can I… Can I help?” Megumi quietly questions, words spoken only for his father to hear. “Mom always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”
Megumi mumbles something else; something that sounds like ‘don’t wan’ mom t’feel bad,’ but it’s muffled into Satoru’s neck and he barely catches it.
Satoru smiles despite the panic still roaring in his chest. The way Megumi calls you ‘mom’ and Suguru ‘dad’ has always made him a little emotional. It took more than a year for Megumi to truly grow comfortable in your makeshift family, but eventually the boy’s cautious exterior melted away into what he really was: a kid looking for a home – a family. He was abandoned for God’s sake, Satoru knows the kid was guarded when he found him. And he had every right to be.
But in just a few short years, Megumi has begun to call Tsumiki and the twins his sisters and on rare occasions, he’ll call Satoru his father. However, he knows those nights will always end in Satoru smothering him with affections and playful teases so he refrains from doing it often. Satoru does not take offense; he knows Megumi is shy.
“Yeah, she takes good care of us, huh?” Satoru murmurs fondly as he rubs a hand over his son’s back.
Before Satoru can reassure Megumi further, he’s interrupted when Suguru lets out a relieved sound over his shoulder. It’s a strange sort of combination of a sob and a gasp, but Satoru hears it all the same.
“Sweetheart…?” Satoru hears Suguru call, voice brighter but still wavering through the short syllables.
There’s a muffled sound of shuffling, then a groan and a cough before Suguru is concealing his tears in your neck.
Satoru exhales with relief, shoulders sagging as his eyes slide shut. He rubs a hand over Megumi’s back in the hopes the boy doesn’t see the fear slowly seeping from his father.
Inside the bathroom, Suguru clutches your hand tight to his chest, squeezing it thankfully and burying his face in your neck as he bends over you. Blinking slowly, you huff a choked breath and shakily reach upwards to lay your palm over Suguru’s head. Tangling your fingers in the mess of loose, dark hair you sigh deeply through your mouth. It’s a relief to feel Suguru bent over you; his weight presses into your chest and grounds you as you come back to consciousness. Though you’re still dizzy and a bit panicked, the feeling is beginning to leech from your limbs like poison from a wound.
Waking up was startling, and there’s a lingering sense of fear buzzing beneath your skin. It frightens you, and you clutch tightly onto Suguru with a tremble. The pain still twists in your stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how you felt before you passed out.
“Suguru…”
His name comes out in a sort of pleading cry, not unlike a frightened child, but you cannot help the way you long for his comfort. Tears leak from your eyes, another wave of salt that you find you cannot control.
Suguru responds to your call with a sweet coo, pressing a wet kiss to the skin of your throat and rumbling deep within his chest to reassure you that he’s still there. Brushing your hair from your eyes, Suguru leans away to peck your temple and stare down at you with relief painted across his features.
“You’re alright, honey. ‘S okay,” he whispers warmly, soothing the tension in your brow and brushing your tears away. When your eyes crack open, staring up at him with waning fear and confusion, Suguru huffs a laugh and smiles widely. “Hey, pretty girl.”
Your lips quiver upwards into a sort of sad smile, but Suguru is happy to see it despite the exhaustion in your features. Squeezing his hand, you look up at the dark-haired sorcerer as his hair falls into his eyes.
“Wha’ happened?”
Suguru looks over his shoulder, mouthing something you can’t hear, but you know he must be talking to Satoru. The muffled sound of his voice barely reaches your ears as you wade through the stream of your consciousness. You fight to keep Suguru in focus, and fortunately manage to cling to the waking world as sounds finally return to your senses. Something that sounds like “she’s alright, Toru,” rings through the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Satoru replying but you can’t hear it. Your heart calls out for your other husband, and you squeeze Suguru’s hand in question.
“You passed out, darling,” Suguru looks back down at you with a sad smile. He hushes you when you wiggle, trying to sit upright. “Careful, love, careful. You scared the shit out of me, you know?”
Shooting him a sorry glance, you allow Suguru to gently lift you to a seated position every so slowly. He leans you against him, his thick thighs on either side of your hips as he lets you rest against his chest. You nod slowly as he delicately pulls your hair from your face and wraps his arms around you.
“Sorry.”
Suguru shakes his head with a hum.
“Don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers. “I’m just glad you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? How’s the pain?”
You slouch into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist and nodding as your eyes slide shut.
“‘S not so bad. Where’s Toru?”
Suguru’s heart clenches sweetly, feeling warmed by your desire for Satoru. He adores the two of you with his entire being, and watching both of you always strikes a fond chord within his chest.
“He’s taking care of Gumi,” Suguru murmurs, looking down at you with a lovesick expression you cannot see. When you sit up straighter, Suguru accommodates your position with a scooch of his hips and his arm falling into your lap.
“Gumi’s awake?”
“Yeah,” your husband responds quietly. “I think he heard me shout when you fell. He came in a few minutes ago, and Satoru’s comforting him.”
Suguru sounds a little guilty when he mentions his outburst. He’s not embarrassed by any means; it was a cry shouted in overwhelming fear, so he feels no bashfulness for the tone of his voice. He does, however, feel guilty that he managed to wake his son in the process.
“He’s worried about you, I think.”
We all are, he almost finishes.
You sag into Suguru’s chest, weight sinking into the warmth of his bare skin as you slide your hand over the arm that is wrapped around you. Just as you begin to speak, Satoru peeks his head through the doorway. His body is twisted, obscuring Megumi’s view inside the bathroom. When he finds your gaze, Satoru visibly softens.
“Hey, sweet girl,” Satoru rumbles, a fond smile spreading across his features. “You feeling alright?”
You nod tiredly, resting your head against Suguru’s clavicle.
“That’s good. We were really worried, honey.”
Your sigh through your nose, trying to give him an apologetic look, but the fatigue is beginning to pull your eyelids downwards. Satoru’s gaze softens even further, if at all possible, and he continues.
“Can Megumi come in? He’s worried about you,” Satoru reiterates his partner’s words, clearly holding the boy against his chest as he speaks.
You’re about to nod, more than happy to cuddle with your son, when Suguru interrupts. Stroking a hand over your hip, the long-haired sorcerer hums.
“Let us come out, love,” he responds, already beginning to shift you in his lap. “We can talk about this in bed. I think everyone’s a little tired right now.”
You nod in agreement, feeling the ache of your muscles cry out for rest. Your arm trembles weakly when you lift your hand, and you frown at the lack of strength in your limbs. Suguru hushes you sweetly as he shifts you to sit upright as he stands.
“You’re exhausted, baby. It’s normal.”
Satoru murmurs his agreement on the other side of the doorway, already beginning to step away to set Megumi in the middle of your massive bed. He ensures the boy is comfortable as he stands upright, stretching his shoulders and turning to watch as Suguru hoists you up onto his hips slowly. Satoru figured he wasn’t going to let you walk after what happened the first time you tried.
Suguru’s hand is carefully cradling your head and the other wraps beneath your hips, keeping you stable and pressed against his big frame. The sorcerer is incredibly strong from the years of exorcizing curses and teaching students, so carrying you to the bed, despite your muffled protests, is an easy venture.
Setting you on the bed gently, you shift quickly to face Megumi as you lay back against the sheets. You nestle quickly into Suguru’s previous place in bed, already reaching out for your son as he nuzzles forward to latch onto your front.
“Hey, hun,” you whisper kindly, brushing dark strands from Megumi’s eyes. “What’s going on, Gumi?”
The boy looks up at you, still clutching his Divine Dog plush, and frowns. Your head tilts in confusion, and you watch as Megumi makes himself comfortable in your arms, cuddling close to your stomach and closing his eyes. You don’t protest, heart warming sweetly as the boy snuggles close. He doesn’t usually cuddle like this, so you’ll take every opportunity to hug him as you can.
“Dad said you’re feeling bad,” he mumbles into the stuffed dog now pressed between you. “‘M gonna make you feel better. Like you do when I’m sick.”
You smile. Heart full, your eyes slide shut as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the tired boy’s forehead. He mumbles something else, but he’s fading fast. Soon he’s lost to slumber, and he snoozes peacefully in your embrace.
“Thank you, Megumi,” you whisper as you press another soft kiss to your son’s forehead. Looking up at Satoru with tears brimming in your eyes, you find the white-haired sorcerer is already looking at you. There’s fondness spilling from his smile and a sweet gentleness in his expression, and he looks utterly lovesick.
“Hey,” Satoru murmurs.
“Hi.”
The Six Eyes user steps away for a moment, nodding at Suguru who whispers that he’s going to step out to get you water and your medicine. Satoru knows he’s also going to check in on the girls, so he gives Suguru a smile and a peck on the cheek as he slides around the bed to your back.
When Satoru climbs into the silken sheets, he immediately presses his bare chest into your back and wraps his strong arms around you and his son. Pressing his soft lips to the nape of your neck, he pulls you and Megumi into his chest as he relaxes. You feel the familiar tingle of Infinity wrap around you and smile tiredly. Satoru is always protecting you and your family. The technique easily wraps around you and Megumi in addition to Satoru, and you know the sorcerer will easily adapt it to cover Suguru soon too.
That’s just Satoru; he’s always looking out for his family.
When you sigh deeply and snuggle back into your husband, Satoru presses another gentle kiss to your neck and you feel him shake.
“Toru?”
The man shivers again, and when you shift, turning slightly to see his face, your face crumples as you find tears leaking from Satoru’s eyes. He looks utterly relieved, but his mouth still twitches in a sad sort of way and his sky-blue eyes shimmer with salty tears. For all his silly teasing and childlike humor, Satoru rarely looks so… scared. He’s always so strong – the strongest. But there are truly rare circumstances in which Gojo Satoru is confronted with true fear.
Circumstances in which he remembers how vulnerable his family can be.
“Oh, Satoru…”
Satoru buries his face in your neck again, concealing his tears as he calms down.
“I was so worried, baby. Oh my God,” he mutters into your skin. “I woke up and you were on the floor and Sugu was crying…”
You pull his hands tighter around you, careful not to wake Megumi. Stroking gentle circles into the muscle of his forearms, you coo a soft sound to soothe him.
“‘M alright now. Just a little bit of pain, it’s mostly gone.”
Satoru nods, clinging to your back as he finally grounds himself through the gentle touch of your fingers on his skin. He pulls you closer, seeming as though he’s trying to fuse his body to yours with how tight he binds himself to you. It’s the soft contact of your skin against his that soothes the beat of his heart and loosens the tension of his muscles. The tingly feeling that lingers on his skin where you press into him leaves trails of prickled nerves in their wake, as if physical contact between your bare skin incites a biological reaction beneath his flesh.
With you in his arms, tightly wrapped in his embrace where he can feel the pulse of your heart against his chest, Satoru finds serenity.
You’re here. And you’re safe.
Satoru chews on his lip as he sighs.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking his chin into your neck and dropping a hand to rub his palm over the side of your stomach. It’s uncanny, you think, that he already knows exactly where it hurts without you mentioning it. Satoru pays far more attention than people give him credit for. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to take it away.”
You shake your head, fatigued eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of Satoru’s big hands and the gentle circles he massages into you.
Satoru continues in a voice uncharacteristically weak for the Strongest.
“You were… alone and in pain,” he mumbles, guilt seeping into his tone as he frowns. “And I didn’t even know – we didn’t.”
Satoru carefully pulls your hair away from your neck to press a kiss to your bare shoulder and then one more against the skin of your throat. He inhales a wave of your familiar scent and flutters his eyes closed as he sinks into your back.
“I don’t want you to suffer alone, my love.”
You stroke a contemplative finger over his arm, humming quietly as you shift Megumi in your arms.
“Okay, Toru,” you whisper as you find the mirth in your exhausted figure to tease him. “You want me to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn when I’ve got cramps?”
Satoru muffles a small chuckle into your neck and you enjoy the feeling of his chest shaking with the feeling.
“Yeah, baby. Even then. Especially then.”
You huff a breath of laughter through your nose, only stopping when you swiftly inhale as another cramp seizes your abdomen. It’s strong, but nothing like the ones you were having earlier. You can manage these. Satoru leans up on his elbow when you stiffen, lifting his other hand to check the hot water bottle Suguru had returned to your stomach.
When Satoru pulls the bottle away, his brow furrows and he hisses when he finds faint hints of inflamed skin where you’ve pressed it too tight to your belly. It’s too hot and too close, he realizes. It’s burning you.
Satoru nearly sits upright quickly, his frame leaning over yours as he gasps faintly.
“Honey…” He’s on the verge of scolding you, but he sees the way you wince through another cramp and decides against it. Satoru looks back down at the hot water bottle and the way you clutch it tightly to combat the waves of throbbing in your belly.
“This is burning you,” he states it obviously.
“Hmm,” you respond in agreement. “Feels nice.”
Satory looks down at you with pain in his features, face twisted into a frown and his crystalline eyes a shade duller.
“Baby, it’s hurting you – How can…?”
Satoru trails off. He thinks about how terribly you must have been aching to continue pressing something that was burning you into your skin. How agonizing were your cramps that the pain of the burn was comforting?
Satoru lays back down, a frown on his lips as he wraps his arm back around you and lays his palm over the hot water bottle. If you’re going to keep it pressed into your skin, then he can make sure it doesn’t get too warm by leaving his hand against it.
“My god, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He can’t even comprehend how agonizing this must be for you. Satoru kisses your nape again. He apologizes again, and you almost miss the silly Satoru who would typically be teasing you right now. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.”
You yawn, finally feeling exhaustion begin to drag you beneath the slow, rocking waves of slumber. Pushing yourself deeper into your husband’s embrace and squeezing your son tight once more, you sigh out a few more words before you finally sink into sleep’s warm hands.
“You are doing something,” you murmur, pulling his hand up to your mouth to kiss it tiredly. “You’re here, Satoru. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.”
When Suguru climbs back into bed on Megumi’s other side, he kisses the fond smile on Satoru’s lips and teases his partner about the stars in his eyes. The crystalline-eyed sorcerer refutes Suguru’s quip by reaching out to gently slap his bicep, but it’s all in mirthful adoration. Suguru leans over to press a tender kiss to your sleeping brow and then one to his son’s, before he settles behind Megumi and sighs contentedly.
“She’s sleeping?” Suguru whispers, voice barely carried through the quiet night. He stares down at your face, the peaceful expression on your lips far more comforting than the limp, placid look of unconsciousness he remembers. Satoru watches his husband watch you, adoration swelling in his heart like an ebbing tide. Unbound by all but the moon, Satoru swears his heart only grows fonder each time he truly takes in his partners.
“She’s sleeping,” he confirms sleepily, still staring up at Suguru with warmth in his chest.
“Good.”
Suguru’s response is sighed out thankfully, his shoulders deflating with the tension easing away from his muscle. He wraps his arms around Megumi and pulls himself closer to the boy, smiling when he easily cuddles into his father. Not often does Suguru have the opportunity to snuggle his son, so he eagerly grins as Megumi’s sleeping form curls near.
“She’s early,” Satoru mentions plainly from across Suguru. “She wasn’t supposed to start until next week.”
The dark-haired sorcerer nods, recalling the date he marked in his phone. He and Satoru both kept track; it was easier that way. At this point, though, Suguru is certain he doesn't need his calendar to know these things. Your anniversary is ingrained in his memory, as is every one of your important dates. The three of you have spent more than a decade together, this kind of instinct was certain to develop at some point or another.
“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. He twists slowly to glance tiredly at the clock on his bedside. “She took some painkillers at midnight, can you write that down? If she wakes again she can take some more.”
Satoru nods, a hand already reaching for his phone on the nightstand behind him. It was second-nature to jot down the time you took medication. You always tried to keep track yourself, but sometimes noting the time slipped your mind, and you were left trying to recall the last time you took them. Satoru easily adds the time to his notes, and marks the date in his calendar to adjust your future schedule later. He checks that there’s still a bottle of your preferred painkiller in his nightstand drawer and a granola bar to eat when you take them.
When he sets the phone down, he looks back over at Suguru, who sleepily stares down at your sleeping face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but Satoru can see where Suguru has slid his around yours, pressing two of his fingers into the pulse point of your wrist.
He’s counting your heartbeats – making sure you’re still breathing. Because Suguru remembers the way you crumpled all too clearly.
Sighing a shaking breath as he familiarizes himself with the gentle thump of your lifeline, Satoru slides a hand around you and his son, and he lays it across his lover with a sad smile. Suguru looks up with tired eyes, the dark bags beneath his lashes barely visible in the night hour. They match the ones beneath your eyes and probably Satoru’s too.
“Hey,” Satoru mumbles. “She’s alright, Sugu.”
Suguru nods, finally sinking into the mattress and pressing a final kiss to Megumi’s hair as he makes himself comfortable. Satoru does the same, delicately squeezing the hand still wrapped around yours and cradled sweetly at your chest.
“We’re alright,” Suguru confirms, eyes finally sinking closed as he falls back asleep with part of his family in his embrace. “We’re alright.”
In the morning, you awake to two Divine Dogs guarding the foot of your bed. The white one sits with its side pressed against the dark one, and both face the bedroom door. You awake alone in bed, but you can hear distant voices quietly chatting in the hall. The little pups’ ears are perked upwards, diligently listening to the conversation outside.
When you sit up, the white one flips his head over his shoulder, happily sticking his tongue out in a joyful expression. He pants and his tail thumps against the floor as you beckon him closer.
“Good morning, pup,” you laugh as it wiggles excitedly when you scratch behind his ears. The dark-coated one quickly follows soon after, eagerly joining his brother for scratches. “What are you two doin’ here?”
The pups tilt their heads with that silly, tongue-out expression, as if communicating their eagerness. You stifle your laughter and carefully stand from the sheets, making your way into the kitchen with the dogs on your heels.
When you enter the living space, you find Suguru on the couch with the twins on either side of his lap. They’re eagerly leaning over one of Suguru’s books, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves as their father reads aloud. It’s one of his novels, and you chuckle knowing that the girls were probably the ones to pick it out for him to read.
Tsumiki is at the table, leaning over some kind of puzzle, and her brother is at her side. She looks up as you come in, offering you a gentle smile and a nod before she goes back to her puzzle. Megumi sits on his knees in the chair, spiky hair unkempt as always and a look of concentration on his face.
Before you can speak, Satoru is pressed against your back, greeting you with a gentle hum.
“G’morning, sweetheart,” he coos, pecking your cheek and sliding a croissant into your hands and holding a glass of water in his other. “Eat up. You can take some medicine when you’re done.”
He always makes sure you eat before you take your medicine. Your heart thumps happily beneath your ribs, and you smile in return, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and thanking him.
“Thanks, love.”
Satoru hums and slides his free hand over your waist to squeeze your hip. He opens his mouth to say something, but the twins interrupt him. They gasp, standing from Suguru’s lap and eagerly racing over to greet you.
Suguru chuckles, but still gently chides them as they race into the kitchen.
“Careful!”
Nanako and Mimiko crash into your hips with eager sounds, each grabbing you around the waist and crying out.
“Mama!” They cry worriedly, scrambling to hug you as they bury their faces in your legs. They start pushing you towards the couch with little hands, earnestly murmuring things you cannot make out. You look up at Satoru with a confused furrow of your brow, and your husband only chuckles and holds his hands up in a gesture of ‘i’ve got nothing to do with this.’
When you reach the couch, the girls scramble to make you sit beside Suguru, who is all too eager to wrap an arm around your shoulders to accommodate your arrival.
“Good morning,” he hums as he pecks your temple.
Nanako is already sliding a blanket into your lap as Mimiko climbs onto the couch, depositing herself at your side and snuggling into you.
“Good morning,” you respond, watching with a fond smile as the girls make themselves comfortable in your lap. “What’s all this?”
Suguru chuckles, reaching out to gently ruffle Nanako’s hair as she smiles. The girl looks up at her father with a beaming grin and snuggles closer to you when you wrap an arm around her to keep her stable. Your husband leans closer with a smile, murmuring quietly for only you to hear.
“Megumi told them you were sick last night,” he fondly whispers. “I think it worried them.”
Your head tilts in an expression of tenderness, and you give Suguru a knowing look before you lean down to kiss both your girls on the forehead.
“Good morning, girls,” you rumble happily. “I’m alright, sweethearts. Megumi and your dads took very good care of me.”
Mimiko wiggles closer, snuggling into you and her sister with big, worried eyes.
“Really?” her tiny voice murmurs. “Megumi-nii said you were hurting.”
You can almost hear the pout in her voice without looking down at her. Giggling happily, you stroke a hand over her head and squeeze her close.
“He even brought out his puppies!” Nanako quickly adds, squirming as he attempts to find the two Divine Dogs. “He said we couldn’t come in to see you because you needed to rest.”
The two Shikigami have already returned to their owner, sitting on either side of Megumi’s chair with wagging tails and their tongues still sticking out. The boy is absentmindedly petting one while he focuses on the puzzle, shyly avoiding your gaze as if embarrassed.
Your heart clenches sweetly again, and you turn to look at Satoru with a knowing smile. The sorcerer returns the look as he steps into the kitchen for your painkillers, ruffling Megumi’s hair as he goes. The boy lets out a muffled sound of discontent, but he doesn’t fix his messy strands.
“Did he? That’s very sweet of him.”
You and Suguru do not mention the faint pinkness of Megumi’s round cheeks.
When you lean into Suguru’s side, the croissant in your hand warm like your lover’s body heat, you sigh happily. The cramps are a faint memory now, even though you know they’ll return soon. For now, you can savor the warmth of your family.
“You’re taking the day off then, I suppose,” you look up at Suguru with an arched brow. Suguru smiles, leaning his head into yours to rest there.
“Yeah,” he sighs, cuddling close to you and the twins. “We all are.”
You suppose you can deal with the consequences of their unscheduled departure from work and school later… You’re far too warm and content now. When Satoru returns, sliding a glass of water into your empty hand and two painkillers into your other, he patiently waits as you take the pills. Then he sets the glass on the side table beside the mug of raspberry leaf tea he brewed for your cramps, and then he eagerly dives into the limited space left on the couch.
Scrambling into the twins’ space, Nanako and Mimiko giggle happily as Satoru presses kisses over their faces and squirms onto the couch. He plops Mimiko into his lap so he can sit at your side, laughing when the girls squeal happily. As you settle, you see Megumi look up from the table, shyly glancing away from his sister. Tsumiki gives him a knowing look as she climbs from her chair and eagerly walks over to Suguru.
Suguru is too happy to allow her the tiny portion of space on his other side, and Tsumiki slides onto the couch, her side pressed tight to Suguru’s. She offers you a good morning and laughs when the twins attempt to squirm away from Satoru’s tickling fingers.
Eventually Megumi stands from his place at the table, looking over at the couch as he debates something internally. A moment later, he stands in front of Suguru, shyly shifting on his feet as he looks at the only empty space on the couch.
Megumi doesn’t need to say anything, because Suguru is already lifting the boy into his lap with a smile. Saving his son the embarrassment of shyly asking for the affection he usually avoids, Suguru chuckles as he deposits the last member of his family into his lap.
“We could all use a day off,” he murmurs into your temple as he kisses you sweetly.
You sigh happily, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and the laughter of your family.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
The moment is only interrupted when Megumi’s Divine Dogs, only pups at this age, launch themselves onto the couch, eager to join the snuggles. The seven of you dissolve into laughter as you try to maneuver the excited puppies, and you can’t ask for anything else.
“Megumi!” You laugh, trying to brush white dog hair from your face. “Control your summons!”
The boy only laughs happily as the dark-coated puppy wiggles into his lap.
No, he doesn’t think he will.
bonus:
gojo, looking down at reader and geto: you're so cute and pretty
reader, sleepily: I could beat the shit out of you
geto, nodding along: she could
gojo, lovingly: I know
a/n: no I am not back to writing just yet :')) I wrote this in a pain induced haze while having some terrible cramps so if you have terrible periods like me, this one is for you! this is purely based on my experience with cramps, and everyone is different, but I just wanted to write something for me :") I've never passed out but I've felt like it and I know it's super scary so I hope this can provide some comfort for you if you need it <3
ALSO this was written as comfort for jjk 236 :'))) bc everyone in this fic deserved better and I refuse to acknowledge canon
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto fluff#gojo fluff#satosugu x reader#poly satosugu#poly gojo x reader x geto#jujutsu kaisen au#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen hurt/comfort#gojo x geto#gojo x geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo angst#geto angst#getou suguru x reader#gojo x fem reader#geto x fem reader
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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.
or,
you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.
𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!
You accepted it years ago.
You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.
Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.
Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.
You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.
As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.
"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.
"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.
Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."
This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."
"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."
"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.
"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.
It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.
But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.
"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.
Ah.
You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.
"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.
You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"
"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."
Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.
"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."
You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.
"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.
He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."
Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."
The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.
That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.
Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.
You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.
A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"
Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.
"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.
You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."
Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.
You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.
Happy Birthday
— S.
You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.
#opla#opla x reader#opla x y/n#one piece#one piece live action#opla sanji#one piece sanji#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#sanji live action#sanji x reader#sanji x you#sanji x y/n#opla sanji x reader#angst#one piece sanji x reader#ਏਓ ladadiida
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james eating you out under your hogwarts skirt in the corner of a corridor 🤭
this could literally have been a whole fic tbh bedjwwbkbf anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
This wasn’t the first time one of the marauders’ shenanigans had gone wrong, and you doubted it would be the last.
But it was very, very different to their usual fuck ups.
A lot of the time when something went wrong, it was for one of two reasons: either they got caught long before they could even hatch a plan, or something didn’t work out in their favour. You had seen it time and time again in the years you had been friends with the boys, and it never failed to amuse you.
This had been no different. One of them had a stupid idea, the rest of them encouraged it and the planning began. Despite the close friendship you shared with the boys, they never disclosed any details with you, so you were left sitting with the others as they huddled in the corner of the common room discussing their next prank. And ten minutes later, they were out the door to play out the prank, or so you assumed.
Instead, the boys had returned with sheepish looks on their face and a very fidgety James standing behind them, and it was all because the boys had tried to fuck with amortentia.
They fucked up the ingredients or the process—you still weren’t sure of the details—and it seemed James had taken the brunt of it all when he pushed the others away from the bubbling cauldron.
However, none of you would realise just what side effects the dodgy potion would have on your boyfriend.
“Oh fuck,” your head hit the wall with a thump as you fought to keep your eyes open. “James, baby, please—”
“My pretty girl,” he groaned as his palms massaged the fat of your thighs, squeezing and pulling as he tugged one of your legs over his shoulder. “Taste so fucking good.”
“James,” you breathed out, your gaze shifting down but your skirt intruded the sight of your boyfriend lapping shamelessly at your cunt. “Someone can see us—”
“Don’t care,” he grumbled, his nose nudging against your sensitive clit until you were almost keeling over him. “Wanna taste my girl, princess. Can’t keep me away from her.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body was humming with white, hot pleasure and the mere fact that anybody—whether it be a student or a professor or even a fucking ghost—could turn the corner as see your boyfriend pressing you against the wall, kneeling between your legs as he ducked under your skirt to eat you out.
As it would turn out, the side effect of the dodgy potion made your boyfriend fucking insatiable. You had come more times in the last twenty-four hours than you probably had in the last few weeks, and it was all to do with the fact that James couldn’t get enough of you.
He had you sprawled across the bed until you whined about other people hearing during the night. He had you bent over the common room couch when the rest of the castle was asleep. He had you pressed against the edge of the tub in the prefect bathrooms in the morning. He had his cock down your throat in the quidditch broom closet. He had you up against one of the windows on the staircase up to the divination tower between classes.
James Potter hadn’t let you have a single break to catch your breath since he was hit with the potion, and it was honestly a shock you were still standing at this point.
“James, baby, please,” you whined, the noise was pathetic and needy, and something about the fact you could hear him slurping against your wet pussy between your pleas just made the coil in your stomach tighten. “We can’t—”
“Shhh, you can take it,” he murmured as his hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to him until you were slumped against the wall with his face pressed against your cunt. “You’re still dripping, princess, can taste myself inside you.”
“Shit,” you hissed, your eyes clenching shut as your thighs squeezed around his head. “James—”
“Fuck, honey, need to fill you up again,” his voice was needy and whiny as he pulled his head out from under your skirt, his nose and chin and lips glistening with your arousal. Your eyes shifted down to see the way his cock strained in his trousers, how hard he was from simply making you come twice on his tongue. “You gonna help me out, princess? Gonna take my cock again?”
You were exhausted and you didn’t even know if you could stand up any longer, but the sight of your boyfriend pleading on his knees as he palmed his cock had your resolve shattering in seconds.
“Please, Jamie, fill me up again.”
.
#james potter#marauders#harry potter#hp#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter fic#james potter one shot#james potter smut#marauders x reader#marauders x you#marauders x y/n#marauders fic#marauders one shot#marauders smut#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry potter x y/n#harry potter fic#harry potter one shot#harry potter smut#hp x reader#hp x you#hp x y/n#hp fic#hp one shot#hp smut
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tinder buddies | ln4
hi! i have no idea how to comment on that. i've got inspiration from the rumors that are now going on twitter and tiktok about lando and his activity in sm and i thought man, i need to write something in this narrative because sexting with him??? scuse me??? but of course all of this is fiction and and i dont have any statement on the rumors about lan, mostly because all of these are rumors and not facts. anyway, pls leave his poor papaya ass alone and enjoy this instead!
summary: when you met your tinder buddy irl and realize how indeed world is small
warnings: masturbation on cam (both male and female), bit of swearing, in general alott of sexual tention
pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris
Y/N thought that she was good at what she was doing. She thought that despite her young age she fit in the world of motorsport really well. Sometimes it even crossed her mind that she was no different from her older colleagues, what's more, sometimes she even thought that she was better than them. However, she admitted this only to herself with complete modesty and behind tightly closed doors.
Apart from the fact that Y/N was a really good journalist whose career was growing at a surprising pace, at the end of the day she was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who, like many other twenty-two-year-old girls in the world, had her smaller and bigger sins.
Y/N breathed heavily as she entered her hotel room. She set her suitcase and bag aside, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed. It was well after midnight, her flight was delayed by several hours and she was simply exhausted by the passing day. Even though she was excited about the events that awaited her in a few hours, right now she was just tired. However, she knew perfectly well what would help her relax before going to sleep. Not so much what, but who.
The girl unlocked her phone and easily found the Instagram icon, clicking on it and going straight to the messages. She entered the first conversation and was about to write some prosaic message, but she didn't have time to type out half of the sentence when a new message appeared in the chat.
"u up?"
Y/N smiled to herself. It looked like she could count on a pleasant end to the day.
"I was just about to ask you the same thing"
The reply message appeared a moment later.
"i was waiting for you to be available. i thought the evening would be wasted"
"And yet you see, surprise"
The person on the other end smiled and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants. He quickly wrote his answer with one hand.
"wanna call?"
"I think you know the answer"
She smiled and reached for the switch and turned off the light, pressing the camera icon with her other hand.
Y/N and the boy she had been messaging with for a little over a month knew next to nothing about each other. She had a private account and a few photos, he had a black icon and an empty profile. He only knew her name, she only the first letter of his. They met on Tinder, their profiles there looked quite similar. She has a few photos, more of the body than the face, he has the same, mostly in black and white. They had never seen each other's faces, but they knew each other's bodies inside and out.
Y/N placed her phone on the table and leaned it against the lamp, which she turned on a moment later. The light from it was dim, but it illuminated her body enough. The angle her phone was at only showed her from the neck down. She was perfect at maintaining her privacy.
"New background?"
He asked, seeing that the surroundings behind her were different from those he had seen before. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in only a bra and a thin t-shirt.
"I'm away from home"
"Work?"
"Too many questions"
There was quiet laughter on the other side. He liked her temperament. He liked her curves even more and the sounds she made when, at his command, she pushed her fingers inside her and brought herself to orgasm. Yes, he liked that too.
"Yeah, you're right. Strip."
Y/N pulled the t-shirt over her head and her interlocutor saw a red, lace bra that he never seen on her before. He smiled and ran his hand over his crotch. He felt a chill run through him.
"You look good, baby. Red suits you"
She laughed and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.
"Is this the first time you gonna tell me to keep my bra on?"
"For now, yes. I'd love to look at it for a while" he squeezed his cock and began to lightly massage it through the fabric. "You know what to do, dont'cha?"
Y/N bit her lip and lifted her hands, placing them gently on her shoulders. She slowly moved them down her body and when she found her breasts, she slowly started massaging them in circular motions. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, hearing the sigh that came from her phone. He watched her carefully, following her every move.
"Take it off," he said after a while, "It's pretty, but I think I prefer you without it."
She quickly took off her bra and threw it aside. He smiled at the sight of her breasts. Y/N returned to them, continuing their massage. As she lightly pinched her nipples, she moaned softly. His cock vibrated at the sound that came from his headphones. He smiled.
"Does it feel good, baby?"
"Mhm, yeah" she answered, looking again at her phone "But you're playing unfair again. I have to see you too."
He chuckled and shook his head.
"You don't let me enjoy you"
He replied and put down the phone, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. He fell back on the pillows and turned on the light on his phone. Y/N smiled at the sight of the familiar, slightly tanned and toned torso. Her interlocutor didn't see it, but she smiled even more when he tightened his hand on his cock, which was now clearly visible on the gray material of his trousers.
"Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down"
He ordered. Y/N obediently lay down, taking off her pants and underwear. When the rustle of fabric could be heard on the other side, he easily freed himself from his pants and tight, slightly damp boxers. He spat on his hand and spread the saliva over his cock, feeling it tighten under his touch. Fuck, what he would give if instead of his hand it was this tiny hand that disappeared between the pair of thighs he saw on the screen of his phone.
The girl complied with his command and he saw her middle finger slowly sinking inside her, only to come out after a while covered with her juices.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "You're so wet, baby."
“I wish you were here and licked me clean.”
Y/N said, rubbing her clit. She felt that she wouldn't need much to reach orgasm.
Her interlocutor smiled under his breath, but she wasn't able to see it.
"I'm afraid that i would make you even more wet."
"Someone has quite an ego here"
"I know my capabilities, baby."
She snorted under her breath and made herself more comfortable, inserting her finger into herself again. First one, quite slowly, and soon she added another one. A long moan filled the hotel room as she began to move them, imagining that it was not her but him who was fucking her. And not with his fingers, but with his wet, hard cock.
"Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."
His eyes carefully followed the screen and the activities taking place on it. His hand moved smoothly over his cock, his lips were slightly opened. As he was stroking himself, the glass of his watch on his wrist reflected the light from the phone. He wore it every time they cam together. Y/N didn't know anything about watches, so she didn't know what brand it was or whether it was expensive. They never talked about it, honestly, they basically never had a normal chat. However, he once asked her about the tattoo on her forearm, just below the inner bend of her elbow. He noticed it after the first time they met on camera. When it was all over and they were about to hang up and return to their real lives, he asked about it.
"What does 33 mean?"
He asked when the girl started getting dressed.
"What?"
"Tattoo on your arm"
The girl looked at her forearm and only then did she understand what he was asking about.
"I can't tell you because you'll make fun of me"
Hearing this, he smiled. Not because there was probably some stupid story behind it, but because the girl was concerned about not looking bad in front of him. Even though they absolutely didn't know each other.
"I barely know your name, I don't know why I would make fun of you."
Y/N was silent for a moment, glancing at her tattoo and lightly stroking it with her thumb.
"Do you know Formula 1?"
He smiled and nodded. His reaction, however, was beyond her reach.
"I know a thing or two"
"My favorite driver drives with this number. Well, actually he did, now his number is 1. But for me it will still be associated with 33"
The girl explained. She felt a bit embarrassed to expose herself to him, especially with something like this. However, he did not laugh at her or comment on her confession in any negative way.
"I have a friend who is also involved in motorsport and has the same number. Actually, not anymore, because he also had to change it. But for me it will also be associated only with 33"
Y/N smiled at his words. Sometimes she wondered if they could become friends and get to know each other a little better. But then she decided to come down to earth and remind herself that she had no time for relationships or friendships. Now the most important thing for her is work and career, everything else can wait. After all, no one will satisfy her as much as herself. Right?
"Fuck, I could fill you so good, baby," he moaned, gasping for breath. He felt that he was only seconds away from orgasm "You have no idea how much pleasure I would give you."
The girl's lips were opened, her eyelids were shut tightly. She massaged her clit with her left hand and moved the fingers of her right hand inside her in quick, uneven movements.
"I'm about to- I…oh my god-"
“Yes, baby, thats it" he gasped, speeding up "Cum for me.”
She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. The moment her back arched, she heard a long "fuck" coming from her phone. He came shortly after her, staining his toned abs with his sperm. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to calm his breathing. There was silence on both sides for a moment, neither of them moving an inch.
After some time, Y/N sat on the bed and reached for a tissue, wiping her hands on it.
"I have to go now. I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."
"Me too. I wanted to let you know that we may not be able to have a call tomorrow."
He answered, also wiping himself.
“It's okay, no big deal,” Y/N replied and took one last look at the muscled, tanned torso visible on her phone screen, “Good night. And good luck with your chores tomorrow.”
“Good night, baby. You too.”
She smiled and reached for her phone, ending the call. Exhausted from the previous day and the evening cam session, she just buried herself in the blanket and shortly after fell asleep. The next day, when her alarm went off, she was full of energy despite several hours of sleep. She couldn't wait for saturday's qualifying and all she was thinking about as she was getting ready was whether she would be able to get good material.
As she put on her red bra, she smiled involuntarily as she remembered last night. She wondered if he had already gotten lost in the whirlwind of his today's duties. Y/N quickly got dressed, gathered her things and, putting her pass around her neck, left the hotel. When she got to the track and was in the paddock, she couldn't think about anything else. Her only thoughts revolved around what was going to happen on the track in a few dozen minutes. However, for a split second she wondered what her tinder buddy actually knew about Formula 1. Maybe they could have something to talk about? Maybe she could even take him to some grand prix?
Her thoughts disappeared when she noticed Lando Norris hanging around the McLaren garage. The girl asked the cameraman to prepare the equipment and she would ask the Brit if he would be willing to have a short conversation. She squeezed the microphone in her hand and without thinking, she approached him, introducing herself and asking if it was possible to record a short conversation.
Hearing her name, his heart did a flip. He knew that name very well.
"Sure, no problem"
He replied with a smile, obviously not revealing himself, and ran his hand through his hair. The glass of the watch strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. Y/N had seen this watch before. Many times.
The girl smiled back and, hearing his agreement, gave a thumbs up to the cameraman. When she raised her hand, the sleeve of her shirt rolled up, and Lando's eyes involuntarily caught the tattoo on her forearm. A slight 33, just below the bend in the elbow.
He felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him. It's a coincidence, right? It must be.
"How's your mood before qualifying?"
Y/N asked, putting the microphone down and straightening her shirt. As she was arranging her collar, Lando's eyes caught a glimpse of her red bra strap. He smiled to himself and looked down. He wondered how many accidents and coincidences had come together in the universe and resulted in this situation.
"What? Something wrong?"
The girl asked, not knowing what made him react like that.
He shook his head and after a moment looked up again. He looked at the girl carefully. However, she was completely lost and looked at him questioningly.
"Sorry, as you can probably see, my mood is great. I'm positive about today's qualifying."
Y/N tentatively gripped her microphone. When the cameraman approached them, they started recording the footage and she had no time to analyze Lando's strange behavior. In fact, it was possible that this was their first and last conversation ever, so why should she care about it. When they managed to record a short material, Y/N thanked him and wished him successful qualifications. After that everyone went their separate ways.
Immediately after entering the garage, Lando found his phone buried in a pile of his things. He quickly entered his latest conversation on Instagram and, without thinking, decided to send the girl a message. Worst case scenario, he'll just make a fool of himself, which isn't a big deal since they don't know each other at all. At best, he would spend tonight as he had long dreamed of.
"ure even prettier than i thought, baby."
Y/N felt a vibration in her pants pocket and without thinking, she unlocked her phone. She was surprised to see a notification coming from Instagram, and she was even more surprised when she noticed who sent her the message. After reading it, she felt a cold sweat break out on her. However, she decided to think and act soberly.
"How do you know what I look like?"
"turn around"
Lando replied quickly and leaned against the threshold of his garage. The girl clutched her phone in her hands and obeyed his command with her heart beating wildly. Lando smiled at her, holding his still unlocked phone. Y/N felt a lack of saliva in her mouth. It's impossible, it's not really happening.
"Are you sure we're looking at the same person?"
She replied, having difficulty pressing the appropriate keys with her fingers. He was amused by her reaction. This whole situation didn't make sense to him. It was crazy.
"im looking at a pretty neat journalist with a mad bunda who has a tattoo with my friend's racing number. and u?"
Y/N blushed. Fuck. It's him.
"I see that your jumpsuit is a little tight in some places."
Lando snorted under his breath. The girl wasn't lying. The whole situation made quite an impression on him.
Y/N bit her lip and looked up. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't arousing.
"u know exactly why its tight"
"I guess I have to find out in real life. The camera likes to lie."
When she sent the message, she looked up again and their eyes locked. The Brit winked at her and quickly replied, turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of the garage.
"my driver's room in five minutes. ill be happy to dispel your doubts"
#f1 imagines#f1 one shot#f1#formula 1#f1 oneshots#f1 imagine#lando norris#ln4#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut
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explicit sexual content MDNI
you know when you’re laying in bed on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, one leg bent at the knee in a 90 degree angle and the other outstretched completely? yeah thinking about being used in that position.
your shorts are already tiny enough to barely cover much when you’re standing and walking around. so when you’ve been laying down for nearly an hour now, rolling around in search of the perfect position for your mindless scrolling, the fabric has ridden up to cut between your cheeks, exposing the bottom of them.
subsequently, your shirt has lifted, exposing your sides and back, and although so much of you is covered, it appears the opposite.
he feels as if it’s the opposite.
laying beside you on his side, no longer focused on whatever he was supposed to be doing before your figure caught his eye. he’s been silent for a while, letting his eyes rake over your figure. letting the sight of you relaxed like this entice him. convince him that he needs you.
which, with the way you’re laying, legs already spread and inviting him in, he thinks you feel the same.
he starts off casual, innocent. he lets you warm up to his touch.
you hum a little appreciatively whenever his hand lays flat against the exposed skin of your back. your hips wiggle a bit when his palm glides down to rest over your ass. your legs spread more whenever his large hand situates itself between your legs, fingers resting against the taut crotch of your shorts.
you don’t tell him to stop. you don’t tell him to keep going. but your back arches and you move just a little closer.
your head, previously having been faced the opposite direction, turns to look at him once he starts to trace the outline of you with a light touch. barely enough to provide stimulation, but the memory of what he could do to you is what drives you to want more. not the preview of what will inevitably come to be.
you watch him, he watches you, and then you reach down to slide your shorts and panties off in one motion. you go to change positions, too, maybe lay on your back to give easier access, but he shakes his head and kisses his teeth.
“back on your stomach. like before.” it’s a request, there’s room for denial, but with the speed at which you follow it, it could easily have been identified as a command instead.
either way, you end up just as you were before. your eyes flutter shut at the first touch. firmer than before, but still gentle in nature, once more a glide through your slit before ending at your entrance.
by the time he has two fingers buried in you, you’ve thrown your leg over his hips and dug your nails into the forearm not flexing with the effort of fingering you. you’re watching him again, but he’s focused on your cunt swallowing his digits this time, the lewd sounds of it all echoing around the bedroom now that the clacking of your nails against your phone screen isn’t present.
he seldom blinks. his lips are parted, gentle breaths leaving them periodically, and if your own lips weren’t so preoccupied with spewing out thankful praises then you would’ve kissed him.
the heel of his palm digs into your ass as he crooks his fingers a little more aggressively. he searches for a second, eyebrows furrowing in determination, and you do your part by lifting your hips and twisting them a little and then there. there it is.
your hips are already lifted so it makes it all the more easier to slide your hand down and press against your clit when he tells you to.
after that it doesn’t take long. just a little while longer and your toes are curling and your back is arching and you’re burying your face into the pillow beneath you.
his fingers stay within you at first, pumping at a more languid pace, and then once you’ve stopped twitching he pets your head soothingly. he peppers kisses into your scalp, and your eyes are suddenly heavier than they were previously.
you peel your head out of the pillows to ask him, “what was that for?”
he pulls you closer into his side with one hand, urging you to press your back to his chest.
“those little shorts.”
#bad ending bc the hormone monster left#but erm this is abt sm ppl ummm#richie jerimovich x reader#richie jerimovich x you#richie jerimovich smut#richie jerimovich#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry x you#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#peter quill x reader#peter quill x you#quillsworld!#lukesworld!#ethansworld!#rafe cameron x reader#rafesworld!#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#sejsworld!#sejanus plinth x reader#sejanus plinth smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coryosworld!#finnicksworld!#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair smut
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Be Safe | Azriel x Reader
summary: you are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go.
warnings: fluff and a hint of suggestiveness at the beginning
note: I saw this tiktok and decided to write it into a little scenario because I loved it so much.
“Oh, you’re going to love the Day Court,” Mor purrs with a grin. “And it’s High Lord. Helion…let’s just say his pegasus isn’t the only thing you’ll want to ri–”
“Oookay.” Cassian chimes in with a chuckle, placing his hand over Mor’s mouth to keep her from finishing her sentence. “Settle down, Mor. We don’t want her to love it too much!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” you respond and then laugh as Mor bites Cassian’s hand. "Besides, Rhys will be there and he’s, you know, my boss. This trip is purely professional.”
The three of you stand in the foyer of the town house, Cassian cradling his hand to his chest with a pointed look at Mor, who merely rolls her eyes. You were heading for Day Court, where Rhysand already waited for you. Cassian and Mor had stopped you, insisting on wishing you well before leaving, even though your mission was amicable. The only danger you could possibly encounter on your trip, it seems, would be Helion’s chambers. A welcomed danger, if Mor’s insinuations were to hold truth.
“I should go now. I told Rhys I would be there within the next half hour almost an hour ago.”
As you gaze at your friends, a subtle ache tugs at your heartstrings, a silent yearning for another’s presence. Though you know he's currently engaged in a mission, you can't help but wish he were here beside you too.
You turn away from your friends, preparing to winnow to the Day Court. It's as though the Cauldron itself heard your unspoken longing. Just as you're about to step forward, a hand emerges from the depths of the shadows, halting you in your tracks with a gentle yet firm touch.
You turn back around, watching as the darkness seems to part for him, revealing those warm hazel eyes that could pierce through the darkest of nights. “Azriel,” you greet in pleasant surprise.
His eyes lock onto yours and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. “Be safe,” he murmurs, his voice deep yet sweet like honey. The way he looks at you, full of concern and something else you can’t quite discern at the moment, sends a delightful warmth seeping into your heart.
Azriel’s gaze flickers down toward your intertwined hands and you notice the subtle tension that comes from his scarred hands before he abruptly lets yours go. It’s a moment of vulnerability that makes your chest ache. You want to reach out for his hands again but he comes to stand by your side instead.
His arm brushes against yours. The dark tendrils dancing around his shoulders revel in your proximity, slithering down his arm and coiling around you in a cool embrace. You welcome his shadows, smiling softly when you feel them tug you closer to their master, deliberately enchanting you with the scent of cedar and night chilled mist. It’s as if they don’t want you to leave his side.
“I will,” you finally respond, your voice a mere whisper as you look up at him
Azriel’s gaze softens. The tension between you dissipates into something lighter, something magical. The world around seems to fade into darkness, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment that feels both infinite and fleeting. No words are spoken yet so much is said.
Meanwhile, Cassian and Mor exchange a knowing look of their own. The mutual crushing between you and Azriel has been evident to everyone for years. Well, everyone, except for you and Azriel. Mor and Cassian will give you grace, as Azriel can be unreadable at times. But Azriel? The spymaster of the Night Court? How he cannot see your unmistakable crush on him is beyond them.
“Be safe,” Cassian says, mocking Azriel’s tone.There’s a mischievous gleam in his hazel orbs as he gazes down at Mor, pouting his lips in an exaggerated manner.
Mor’s eyes light up, mirroring Cassian’s mischief. She leans in toward Cassian’s shoulder–the very same way you’re doing with Azriel. Except, she wraps her arms around Cassian’s larger one, resting her head on his chest. “I’ll be so safe,” she cooes, voice like velvet.
Azriel feels the heat rising to his neck. He turns to Cassian and Mor, gaze darkening with an icy glare. “Stop,” he warns but it only encourages the two further.
They continue to hug each other and make kissing sounds. A blush creeps up your cheeks and you seek solace in Azriel’s arm, burying your face against it. Azriel’s wing instinctively curls around your form in a protective manner. Were you being that obvious? Your answer is immediately given as your hands gravitate towards each other once more.
“Stop it! Or I’m going to kill you!”
Cassian pulls Mor even closer. His brows furrow, softening his expression as he directs his pout toward Azriel. “But how would that keep us safe?”
None of you will be safe if you keep delaying y/n. Helion does not like to be kept waiting, echoes an all too familiar voice–Rhys’s– through your minds. He leaves your mind as quickly as he entered it, lingering only in Azriel’s long enough to add: Let her go.
Azriel blinks, not realizing that throughout the teasing, his fingers had intertwined with yours. He turns his attention back to you, reluctantly releasing your hand. A sheepish expression takes over his features as he brings the hand that had been holding yours to rub the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t help but worry when you’re not home,” Azriel admits quietly.
Mor and Cassian both let out a sound that Azriel is quick to stifle with his shadows.
“It’s only for a week,” you assure him as you open the door and step outside. You feel a flicker of anticipation tingling in your veins as you prepare to winnow. You turn back to face Azriel and your friends one more time.
“Don’t miss me too much, okay?”
But I miss you already, Azriel thinks as he feels a strange stirring awakening deep in his chest. His shadows buzz around him in excitement.
“Bye, y/n. Have fun but not too much fun!” Cassian calls out to you in mock warning over Azriel’s right shoulder.
Mor peeks out from Azriel’s left shoulder and winks at you. “But if you do find yourself having too much fun, call for me, okay?”
“Sure,” you agree and Azriel fails to notice the reciprocated teasing in your tone.
He’s too busy glancing between Cassian and Mor, hazel eyes wary. His shadows whisper to him, confirming the suggestiveness of their words. Uneasiness settles into his stomach, causing his entire body to tense up.
He’s familiar with the flirtatious nature of the High Lord of the Day Court. Too familiar that he can already dreadfully anticipate the sweet words Helion will shower you with. His shadows stir, excitement morphing into panic. What if you fall victim to Helion’s charm?
Suddenly, he hates the idea of you going to Day.
As your gazes meet once more, an unseen force seems to settle into place. His eyes widen in realization, his mouth parting to utter your name, but it’s too late. You’re already winnowing away and he lurches forward, after you, pulled by the golden threads that have wildly unfurled within his chest.
Mate. You're his mate.
note: I did not know how to end this so please don't come for me for ending it like this lol. Just know that Az is winnowing away to join you in Day Court right after. I hope you enjoyed! <3
general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#acotar x reader#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#azriel imagine#acotar fanfic#azriel x y/n#acotar x y/n#acotar x you#azriel fluff#acotar fluff
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Silent Night
Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.
Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything
w/c: 6.6k
a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!
my masterlist
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild.
“I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.
"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine.
“You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement.
You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise.
Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him.
He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.
"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.
You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."
It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.
The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.
Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.
"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"
"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.
"Jus' three."
"Oh, so you are just a lightweight then?"
"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout.
You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls. scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."
Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.
You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.
"M'not drunk"
You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"
"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."
"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.
Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper.
When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.
His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.
He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat.
He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs.
He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache.
You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality.
"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”
He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air.
"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"
His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh.
“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile.
Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.”
You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.
But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point.
"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
“I don’t- oh…”
The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins.
“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?”
There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it.
His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil.
Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.
"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."
Fuck.
His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.
"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"
"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.
He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface.
You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet.
“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea.
“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention.
“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya”
You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass.
Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.”
Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex.
He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.
He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.
He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.
You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.
He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.
"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-
He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.
He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.
"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey.
He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.
When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.
"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.
You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.
He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.
He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.
He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.
"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."
He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.
He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.
"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."
You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.
"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.
"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."
Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.
He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.
You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake.
His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.
"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."
The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.
He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.
"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.
You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.
"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.
Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.
"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.
You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.
He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.
"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"
You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.
He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.
"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."
He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."
You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.
"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"
He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.
Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.
He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.
"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."
You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.
"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.
You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.
"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."
You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.
"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"
You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.
"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"
Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.
"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."
His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls.
"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.”
You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense.
“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.”
That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.
"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.
"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."
"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.
"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"
He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch.
"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."
He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.
"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.
You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins.
“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?”
You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree.
You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze.
“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!”
You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so.
“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back.
“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows.
“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle.
“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”
Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller#pedro pascal characters
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Lifers x Crane Wives
I saw someone comment on a life series TikTok or something to try and pair all of the lifers to a crane wives song, without repeating songs. so obviously I spent an hour doing it
Grian—Tongues & Teeth (self explanatory if you’ve EVER heard this song)
Scar—Steady, Steady (this whole song is about how their partner is walking out but they still want to be “wild and free” which is just SO Scar coded)
Tango—Ancient History (he keeps teaming up with Skizz and I feel like this song vibes with that, it also just feels very Tango)
Skizz—Icarus (this man always gives himself up for his teammates I swear, and he fuels them to keep going. It also says “oh brother, brother” which feels like Skizz talking to any of his teammates to me)
Impulse—Allies or Enemies (Impulse has been very iffy on a lot of his alliances throughout the seasons, especially in third life and with the amount of playing all sides that man has done this songs feels right)
Cleo—The Glacier House (this. this is literally just her leaving Fairy Fort. The song is talking to/about her from probably Lizzie’s perspective, but like the last line is 100% as if Cleo was speaking)
Bdubs—Unraveling (Bdubs relies so heavily on his teammates, and when he doesn’t have that stability *cough* Etho *cough* he just kinda doesn’t know what to do so this song fits)
Mumbo—Keep You Safe (this man is by no means an aggressive/reckless player [see: Joel or Martyn] and he feels like he’s just here for the vibes and honestly? Love that for him. This song is about fear not keeping you safe and watching your friends run high risks, which just is very accurate to how Mumbo plays this series. I also feel like he could fit Rockslide when he goes red cause he goes from standstill to “drop dead sprint” in terms of aggression)
Lizzie—Shallow River/New Colors (Lizzie is the only one I put as two because both of these songs are just so fitting. Shallow river—“wasted all for the title, wasted all for the crown” reminds me of Lizzie trying to kill Scott and ending up dying herself instead. I also feel like parts of it could be dead Lizzie talking to Joel, the only person who is really mourning her. New Colors—“don't tell me that I can't, I need this“ and “I give up my air, to breathe” also feel very accurate with how she is trying so hard and just keeps failing )
Jimmy—Canary in a Coal Mine (no further context needed, we all know Timmy)
Scott—Little Soldiers (this is very flower husbands, but also just feels like Scott looking back on the last seasons including Pearl, Jimmy, Martyn, all his reluctant exes. Also this man is the watchers’ like least favorite person ever and this gives that vibe)
Pearl—Ribs (i changed this from New Discovery because Ribs is entirely about somewhat angrily protecting and helping yourself because nobody else would, and it really strikes me as Pearl with the some things having been good (Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss) and some being bad (divorce quartet))
BigB—Not the Ghost (this man is so incredibly odd, he just constantly feels like he is being haunted by the watchers and just going about his life, he is the human personification of gaslight and we love that for him)
Martyn—The Hand That Feeds (he HATES the watchers with every ounce of his being, and with Ren gone I think this guy’s only purpose is just to spite them)
Joel—Sleeping Giants (go listen to it. That’s all there is to it, it just feels very Joel-ish, this lad is absolutely fucking mental)
Ren—Once & for All (this song feels like war and being betrayed, and Ren has been betrayed so much so it just fits. I mean come on “my blood’s forever on your hands” tell me that isn’t 100% something Ren would say)
Gem—Show Your Fangs (Girlboss moment, we love Geminislay. This woman is not someone to be underestimated and this song very clearly says that so it’s very Gem in my head. She doesn’t have enough lore yet to make it angsty but ONE DAY)
Etho—Never Love An Anchor (I can’t explain it, this song just has Etho vibes. I mean “It’s a secret I keep tucked inside my chest” just seems very him, I can’t really tell you why)
#3rd life#life series#third life series#traffic smp#traffic series#trafficblr#grian#smajor1995#desert duo#smallishbeans#ethoslab#bdoubleo100#bdubs#zombiecleo#ldshadowlady#lizzie ldshadowlady#jimmy solidarity#solidaritygaming#scott smajor#smajor#inthelittlewood#dangthatsalongname#martyn inthelittlewood#martyn itlw#life series martyn#skizz#mumbo#last life#3rd life smp#bigbstatz
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Past, Present, ...
Summary: After sleeping with Bucky after months of comforting him during his nightmares, Y/N returns from a three-week mission to find out she's been replaced.
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Near death, Implying attempted suicide (it's not)
Word Count: 5.7k
A/N: Not Beta'd. Dusting this off from the drafts. I wrote this while sleep deprived. Not sure how we got here but the original ending wasn't a happy one. Enjoy whatever this is instead.
How much space is too much?
According to James Bucky Barnes, three weeks isn't enough.
Three weeks on an assignment was enough for Y/N to become homesick. She understood she would have to pause her life to save the world, but what no one informed her was that the rest of the world would continue to play.
“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice shouted.
Adjusting the strap of her duffle bag on her shoulder, Y/N turned her head to find her co-worker jogging towards her. Slanting her eyes, Y/N raised her palm to block out the sun.
“Wilson,” she addressed the man when he was near.
Bent over with his hands on his knees, Sam panted. His sweatshirt stretched across his back making the dark patch of sweat more prominent. Squinting up at Y/N, Sam breathed, “Did you just get back?”
Y/N bobbed her head, adjusting the strap on her shoulder once more for emphasis rather than comfort. She did not need to ask to know Sam just returned from his run. He usually ran with Steve and Bucky, but they always finished well before Sam. It wasn’t uncommon for him to return hours after the super-soldiers.
Pushing off his knees, Sam stood, tilting his head toward one of the many entrances in Avengers Tower. He knew better than to offer to carry her duffle bag. The weight of missions was often packed in the bags they returned with.
Y/N and Sam strolled side by side. Sam only paused to open the door for Y/N. Trekking into the tower, he could finally relax his eyes from the intense sun. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the elevator to arrive.
“I thought you were already back,” Sam admitted, watching the light above the elevator doors.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. Her mission was supposed to be longer. If anything, he should have anticipated her return later. Facing the man beside her, she asked, “Why?”
Ding.
Scrambling into the elevator, Sam leaned against the wall across from Y/N. She reflected his behavior, leaning against the wall behind her.
Once the elevator started moving, Sam confessed, “Bucky skipped his run today. I thought I saw you with him before I left. Guess I was wrong.”
Y/N bit her bottom lip, reopening a recently closed wound. She released her lip long enough to confirm what Sam already knew. “You were wrong.” Ignoring the coppery taste flooding her tongue, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth again.
She hadn’t seen her teammates in three weeks. She hadn’t seen Bucky longer. She assumed they were doing great, but Bucky didn't share her thoughts. He denied it, yet he went out of his way to avoid her since their last mission together, since they slept together. How one could be sweet in one moment and cold in another, Y/N would never understand.
Y/N and Bucky started off rocky. He hated her from the moment they met. Bucky was struggling in the field, so Steve asked her to keep an eye on him. Bucky rejected her the second Steve introduced them. He saw through Steve’s plan and stomped his feet like a child. Rather than confirm Bucky’s insinuation, Steve vouched that she deserved to be on the team for her talents, not to babysit Bucky. He even suggested that Y/N and Bucky spar to prove it. Bucky loathed her then. She laid him out several times that day. It was the reason Steve sought her out in the first place. Bucky was a far more experienced fighter than Y/N. He should have won every fight. He lost them all.
Muffled voices were heard from the other side of the doors. Voices Y/N craved to hear since she departed for her mission. When the doors spread, Sam was the first to enter the room. “Hey guys,” he called out, extending his hands toward Y/N, “look who I found.”
Y/N tentatively stepped off the elevator, joining her friends in the living room. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many eyes on her. “I didn’t know there was a party,” she joked, waving.
Tony was the first to speak up, a glass of honey liquid in hand, “Glad, you're back. We were just getting to know Bucky’s girlfriend over here.” He lifted his glass.
Y/N’s eyes followed the direction of Tony’s glass. Her hand tautened around the strap of her duffle bag for support. Y/N hadn’t noticed the extra body in the room at first. The team always had someone over for business or pleasure; it didn’t matter. This time it did because staring back at her was Bucky’s guest, his girlfriend, undoubtedly here for pleasure.
The stunning woman beside Bucky introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Evangelina, but everyone calls me Lina.” Y/N could see the muscles in her uncovered arms tense. Even though she couldn’t see the hand attached to the arm from the other side of the bar, she knew Evangelina was holding Bucky’s flesh hand. “But Bucky calls me Angel,” she added, batting her eyelashes at Bucky.
The woman wasn't solely attractive; she also had a heavenly name. Y/N mentally gagged at the thought of hearing Bucky call his girlfriend Angel.
The coward refused to meet Y/N’s eyes. He took a lengthy drink from a glass matching Tony’s. Stark usually drank top-shelf liquor. Y/N might have been concerned under different circumstances, but she knew the liquor did not affect him, unlike herself.
“Y/N,” she weakly introduced herself, gnawing on her bottom lip again.
“We were just having drinks. Care to join us? There is plenty of alcohol. I can make you something,” Evangelina offered politely.
Y/N’s teeth clamped tight on her bottom lip. She spent three weeks wishing she could return to the tower, only to be treated like a guest, an outsider in her own home.
It was then that Bucky decided to face her, yet his eyes looked right through her. Y/N’s chest tightened. She didn’t know it was feasible to feel more alone in her home, surrounded by friends and a man she had been intimate with, than by herself in a foreign country. She wondered if he could see the hurt written on her face.
“I-I don’t-”
Bucky’s whiskey-strained voice interrupted, “No. No drinks.”
A gasp pulled Y/N's attention away from the couple. Cold, pale hands rested on her cheeks, rotating her head from side to side. “Y/N, you’re bleeding,” Natasha chastised.
Wrestling out of Natasha’s hold, Y/N utilized the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her lip. Staring at the crimson fluid coating her skin, Y/N jerked her head. “I can’t.” Blindly smashing the elevator button behind her, she whispered, “I have to…” her voice trailed off as she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. Disregarding everyone’s silent questions, she bolted into the elevator, only letting her shoulders sag when the doors closed. The strap of her duffle bag slid from her shoulder landing with a thud. Gliding her back down the wall, Y/N cradled her knees and wept.
Every night before bed, Y/N prayed the sun would never rise because when day broke, Bucky vanished. Her dreams filled with memories of their last mission together. Reality was the price of admission for eight hours in heaven.
Y/N clenched her jaw at every public display of affection between the new couple. In the time she had known him, Bucky had never been touchy-feely in public. Now, he couldn’t appear to stop. Bucky only ever reached for Y/N after a nightmare or horrific mission. He reached for her at his lowest and she responded with open arms. He might have another woman occupying his bed, but he continued to fuck with her head.
The voice in her head wasn’t her own anymore. Every thought she had echoed back in his familiar deep timber. She couldn’t shake him. A twisted part of her brain wondered if he couldn’t shake her either.
Sam’s comment when she returned from her assignment should have been her first clue. He had mistaken Evangelina for her. Sam had been the first to mention the resemblance between the two, but it wasn’t the last time Y/N received those kinds of comments.
In the time that Y/N had gotten to know Evangelina, which wasn’t much, she concluded that she didn’t hate her. The two had more in common than she wanted to admit. Evangelina made it a point to befriend all of the Avengers; Y/N included. Y/N hated that she enjoyed her company. It was a tough pill to swallow at first, but she couldn’t hate the woman for her taste in men. Who didn’t find Bucky Barnes attractive?
Bucky had been more challenging to read. He didn’t prevent the women from becoming friends, but he didn’t encourage it either. He continued to keep his distance from Y/N, only interacting with her in group settings.
The Avengers were unaware of Bucky and Y/N’s history. Their relationship was exclusively behind closed doors. Y/N wondered if Evangelina would be her confidante if she knew Y/N had warmed his bed first. Maybe Bucky told her and that was why she pushed to be Y/N’s friend. Maybe that was the reason she asked to raid Y/N’s closet for her date with Bucky. Even though Y/N desperately wanted to slam the door in her face, Evangelina was innocent in the situation. So, she agreed.
“You have so many pretty dresses,” Evangelina said in awe. Her hand ran across each piece of fabric dangling in the wardrobe.
Y/N’s fingers plucked at a loose thread on her comforter. Although they were now friends, helping Bucky’s girlfriend pick out an outfit for their date was still awkward. At least it was on Y/N’s end. Evangelina was none the wiser.
“Perks of being an Avenger.”
“What’s it like being an Avenger? Bucky never talks about his work life. He’s always tense when he returns from a mission.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow even though the other woman couldn’t see her. Bucky was slow to open up, especially about his past as the Winter Soldier. Y/N wasn’t surprised he dodged the topic. Ever since Natasha leaked classified files, Bucky’s past became public knowledge. Bucky and Evangelina’s relationship progressed beyond what Y/N previously had with Bucky, at least on the surface. She didn’t know much about their life behind closed doors. Bucky never took Y/N on a date or made her his girlfriend, but he let her hold him in her arms at night and let her in after a difficult mission. Yet his girlfriend practically confessed she knew nothing about his troubles. That was what shocked Y/N.
“It’s…” she paused, attempting to find the right words to convey the difficulties of the job without disturbing her. “It’s like war. You save and lose people. It’s rewarding and sucks at the same time.”
Evangelina pivoted with a black cocktail dress in hand. “That sounds awful.”
Y/N shrugged. “People do it every day. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were all military men before this.” She waved her hands around the room.
Evangelina caught the shift in Y/N’s tone. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, a reaction Evangelina grew used to from her exchanges with Bucky. Altering the subject, Evangelina pressed the cocktail dress flush to her body. “What about this one?”
Y/N sucked in a deep breath. She wore the dress on her last mission with Bucky. Though he didn’t say it in public, his reaction when they returned to the safe house that night was enough to know Bucky admired the dress. With Evangelina’s similar figure, Y/N knew Bucky would equally appreciate it on her, especially since he wouldn’t get to rip it off of Y/N again.
She would have told Evangelina about the dress, but it was none of her business. The past was in the past. One Evangelina wasn’t a part of. If Bucky hadn’t told her about their past neither would she. Was it bad to send Evangelina on a date in the dress Bucky had fucked her in? Probably. Did she hope he would think about her the entire date? Absolutely.
Clearing her throat, Y/N plastered a phony smile on her face. “Good choice.” After the date, the dress would be tarnished, like rerecording over an old tape.
Y/N never considered herself a masochist, but she couldn’t escape the role of a domestic sinner. She couldn’t sabotage Evangelina’s relationship no matter how Bucky made her feel; however, she could ruin her own relationship. There was a time in her life when she thought Bucky was the one. Part of her still believed it. It was the part she had to sacrifice.
She told herself Bucky’s soft caresses and lingering stares meant nothing, that every promise spoken was a lie to satisfy the moment. Everything Y/N ever loved had been hard to part with, so she convinced herself Bucky never truly loved her. He couldn’t with how readily he replaced her. Could he? It didn’t matter because he chose Evangelina.
“Hey, Y/N,” Steve welcomed jovially.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as Steve’s voice carried down the hall. Who was he talking to? Rounding the corner just in time, she hadn’t missed the way Steve’s eyes enlarged at the sight of her.
“I didn’t realize,” Steve began, his eyes flashing between both women. “I thought you were Y/N.”
Evangelina chuckled, gliding her hands across her abdomen to smooth down the front of the dress. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Y/N was considerate enough to lend me her dress.” She turned to Y/N, who was still standing in the archway of the lobby. “Thanks again.”
Before Y/N could reply, a hand slinked around her waist, drawing her into a solid body. Startled, Y/N tensed.
“Hey, Ange-” Bucky’s tongue twisted as his eyes landed on Y/N. He was relieved he peeked at her face before he complimented her appearance. He dragged his arm back to his side in a flash. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
Y/N chewed her lip, taking a step back. Bucky was dressed from head to toe in black, matching Evangelina. Y/N wondered if they planned to dress for her funeral before or after they killed off any romantic feelings she had for Bucky.
“I did the same thing,” Steve laughed. Bucky glowered at him, forcing his hands into his pockets. Steve held his hands up, “I didn’t touch anyone though, that was all you.”
Bucky grumbled, crossing the lobby to plant a kiss on Evangelina’s forehead. His right hand rested on the small of her back. “You look gorgeous,” he whispered against her hairline.
Evangelina grinned, “You don’t look bad yourself.”
Y/N couldn’t argue with that.
The faint smile on Bucky’s lips disappeared as the hand on Evangelina’s back ran up her spine. The tips of his fingers halted over a loose thread beside the zipper. Anyone would have glossed over it, but not Bucky. Not when he was the one to patch the dress up and certainly not when he was the one to tear it in the first place. When his gaze collided with Y/N’s, she knew he recognized the dress. His eyes blatantly proceeded to check her out.
Y/N flushed as he studied her; however, the moment his eyes drifted to his best friend, Y/N’s blood ran cold. “Are you two,” he pointed between Y/N and Steve. His voice was unable to fully ask the question he wanted to.
Steve slung his arm over Y/N’s shoulder. It was meant to be a joke, but Y/N saw the blaze in Bucky’s eyes. She didn’t know if it was directed at Steve or herself.
“I wish,” Steve beamed down at her. “I have a conference with Fury in an hour. I was hoping to get there early.”
Y/N sent Steve a soft smile. Steve and Bucky were best friends. If anyone knew what transpired between the two on their last mission, it would be Steve. His reaction proved otherwise. She was confident Steve didn’t know about her past with Bucky or he wouldn’t have unknowingly taunted Bucky.
Evangelina ran her hand along Bucky’s back affectionately. “What about you, Y/N? That dress looks amazing on you. I’m almost jealous I didn’t borrow that one.”
Untangling herself from Steve’s hold, Y/N focused on responding to her new friend rather than Bucky. Puffing out her chest, Y/N said, “Thanks, Lina. I have a date.”
Evangelina grinned, “You should join us.” She directed her attention to Bucky, slapping the center of his chest. “They should join us.”
Y/N’s eyes bulged at the prospect of a double date with Bucky. Absolutely not.
“Could be fun,” Bucky added, but his voice lacked emotion.
She officially lost her mind. There was no way Bucky was actually on board with this idea. The man spent most of his time avoiding her. The second she attempts to move on, he tries to interfere. No. No. No.
Y/N shook her head, lying through her teeth, “It’s still new. I’m not ready to introduce him to anyone I know yet.”
Bucky’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s figure for a moment. “That’s not exactly a new relationship kind of dress.” His eyes narrowed in a challenge.
Y/N pursed her lips. “It is for the kind of relationship he and I have.”
Bucky and Y/N’s first assignment together was a disaster. Bucky wasn't prepared to return to the field, but he insisted he was fine. The mission was successful, but only after Bucky hesitated and Y/N was stabbed. The knife was meant for Bucky, and he took her sacrifice for his mistake poorly. They argued even while Y/N was getting stitched up. At the time, they couldn’t stand one another, but looking back on it, it was the tipping point from enemies to friends.
Tony pressured the two to get along for everyone's sake. He suggested going out for a drink and hashing it out. It was the typical outing for a man of Tony’s status with enemies. Bucky had been the first to yield, offering to buy Y/N a drink. As long as it meant they could move forward, he didn’t care. Y/N declined. Bucky scowled in frustration.
“I probably shouldn't tell you this, but ever since the whole enhanced superpower thing, alcohol is like poison to me.”
Bucky’s face softened. Alcohol had been an issue for him and Steve as well. He detested that he couldn’t get drunk, especially with the unwanted memories that plagued his head frequently. It paled in comparison to her side effects. At least he could still consume the liquid and pretend.
“How about dinner then?” Bucky proposed.
Y/N nodded. “Dinner would be great.”
After that, the pair functioned well together. At least until Y/N witnessed Bucky’s nightmares or when he pulled away from everyone after a challenging mission. That was when Y/N began comforting Bucky. While it wasn’t a problem before, it was now.
“Stop staring at me,” Bucky grumbled.
Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from the super-soldier. It was their first mission together since he began dating Evangelina. The two of them were trapped in a safe house on the other side of the world. It wasn’t the first time they had stayed in this particular safe house. It was the exact safe house they inhabited on their last mission.
“You’re hurt,” Y/N observed. Bucky naturally had a sway in his gate. Today, it was heavier, as if he had been lugging extra weight around for hours.
“I’m fine,” Bucky rasped, keeping his back to Y/N. He kept his focus on igniting the fire in the fireplace before them.
Y/N frowned. “I don't mean physically.” Bucky remained silent. “Maybe you should call Evangelina,” she proposed. It was the practical thing to suggest, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Bucky than she intended.
Bucky whirled around; the fire blazed behind him. “I said I’m fine,” he barked. His dark eyes pinned her to her spot on the worn couch.
Y/N chewed her bottom lip. If he was going to get angry with her for caring, then she’d get furious right back. “If you’re so fine, then why have you been avoiding me?”
Bucky grumbled something under his breath, running his hand through his hair. “I already told you, I haven’t-”
“Bullshit.” Y/N rose from her seat. “You fucked me after that HYDRA mission and discarded me like garbage,” she fumed. “I gave you space. I’m gone not even an entire month and suddenly you have a girlfriend. Fuck you, James.”
Bucky stormed the room until he was standing in front of her. His nostrils flared as he ran his tongue along his teeth before baring his teeth. Y/N tipped her head back, daring him to put his hands on her. Bucky studied her face momentarily, their faces hairsbreadths from one another as he hissed, “Fuck. You. Y/N.” From this distance, she could see the muscles in his face twist. She knew he was pissed. Bucky pulled away. “You think you know everything. You have no idea what it's like to have someone fuck with your head.”
Y/N shoved his chest hard. Bucky didn’t even flinch. “You! You’ve been driving me insane with your games!” Her hands moved to shove him again, but he caught both of her wrists.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Y/N ripped herself free from his hold. His grip wasn't tight enough to hurt, still she rubbed her wrist anyway, trying to rid her body of his touch.
“Go back to your boyfriend, Y/N,” he commanded.
Y/N squinted at the man in front of her. This version of him was a stranger. “I heard you,” she voiced softly. “That night,” she pointed to the bedroom down the hall, “when you thought I was asleep, you said you love me.”
If she wasn’t an Avenger, she wouldn’t have detected the way his eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Bucky no longer had to wear a mask from HYDRA, but it seemed everyone except Bucky got the memo. His voice matched the stone-cold expression he wore. “I lied.”
It was the lack of sympathy in his voice that slammed the casket closed. With two little words, Bucky Barnes had buried her in the same place he made love to her.
Bucky returned to the tower after dropping Evangelina off when he stumbled across Natasha with a glass of wine in hand. She was snuggled under a blanket on the couch, watching a true crime show. Since he was unsure where everyone else had gone, he settled on the spot beside Natasha.
“Long night?” Natasha questioned, side-eying the brunette.
Bucky moaned, running his hands down his face. “Long week.”
Natasha swirled her glass of wine. “There is still a bit of wine left. It won't get you drunk but it might help you relax.”
Bucky pursed his lips. “I don’t think that will help.”
Natasha shrugged. “There’s some liquor Y/N’s boyfriend left on the counter over there.” She pointed to the nearly empty bottle across the room. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, “He’s here?”
The red head nodded. “They just got back from dinner. She said they were going upstairs to watch a movie, but after the amount of alcohol they had, I’m sure they are doing more than that.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Bucky stiffened. “They were both drinking?”
“Yeah. The boyfriend came down a couple times to make mixed drinks. He offered me one the last time he was down here, but,” she raised her wine glass.
Before Natasha could continue, Bucky was out of the room, taking the stairs three at a time. He didn’t expect Natasha to understand. People didn’t go around broadcasting their weaknesses. Y/N told him hers, despite them not being friends. It wasn’t his position to share the information. He regretted it now.
Bucky pounded his fist on the wooden door of Y/N's bedroom with a force that made the hinges creak. “Y/N, you in there? Open up,” he pleaded, his voice laced with concern. When he tried the handle and found it locked, his heart sank. “Y/N,” his voice grew more desperate. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door and leaned in, straining to hear anything that might give him an indication of what was transpiring inside. Despite his repeated requests, the door remained sealed shut, and Bucky's impatience and frustration mounted with each passing second. His voice grew louder, his fists clenched tightly, as he roared for Y/N to open the goddamn door. But there was no response. Finally, Bucky stepped back, his eyes flashing with rage, preparing to kick the door down.
The door opened the second Bucky lifted his boot. A man Bucky had never seen before pushed past him, flying down the hallway. “I didn’t do anything,” he cried as he stepped onto the elevator.
Whiplash hit Bucky hard. His head twisted between the man on the elevator and Y/N’s open bedroom door. The second he caught sight of the man's face, he filed it away preparing to deal with him later. Bucky ran into Y/N’s room. His heartbeat drummed loudly, drowning out the sound of the TV playing in the background. He called her name, but there was no response. He scanned the entire room, finding it empty. His boot kicked a glass, the brown liquid staining the carpet. With a lump in his throat, Bucky knocked on the bathroom door and waited for half a heartbeat before he jerked the door wide open.
There she was, sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Bucky crouched down beside her. His flesh hand shook her shoulder as he called her name. No response. He rolled her onto her back, his fingers searching for the pulse on her neck. Bucky almost missed the faint thrum of her pulse beneath his fingers. His own body was shaking. He called her name once again but was met with silence.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y. send the medical unit to Y/N’s room,” his voice quivered as he addressed Tony’s artificial intelligence.
He stepped over her to turn the shower on. Leaving the sliding glass door open, he enveloped her torso in his arms, dragging her bodying into the shower. Crumbling to the floor behind her, he cradled her body under the spray of the cold water.
“Come on, Y/N. Wake up,” he pleaded. He tapped her face repeatedly. “Come on. Not like this,” his voice began shattering. Her head lulled into his chest. Bucky’s fist clenched, mindful not to crush her, as a loud sob tore through his chest. Bucky held her tighter than the clothes adhering to their skin beneath the water. He swayed her slowly as tears gushed down his face. “Come on Y/N. Come back to me,” he croaked. “Tell me to go fuck myself. Anything,” he begged, praying for a reaction. It was futile. Bucky smashed his lips onto the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open with a groan. Her body was sore on the brink of death. One look around the room confirmed she nearly died. She visited the medical wing frequently between missions. The injuries she had endured on the missions were nothing in comparison to what she was experiencing now.
A pressure landing on the back of her hand had her head snapping to her side. Bucky sat with his forehead pressed to the back of her hand, a prayer escaping his lips. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows searching for her last memory of Bucky.
The brunette lifted his head, running his fingers through her hair. “You scared me,” his voice was shaky, his eyes never left her face.
“Where’s-”
Bucky snarled, “Your boyfriend? Don’t worry about him, he’s an asshole.”
Y/N flinched. “He didn’t know.”
“That’s not why he’s an asshole. He ran and left you on the bathroom floor to die.” Bucky watched as Y/N processed the new information. The lack of surprise concerned him. He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “Did you know there was alcohol in your drink?”
Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course, I didn’t, Bucky. You’re an asshole for leaving me too. I’m pissed at you. I’m not suicidal. You did your good deed. I’m alive. Now you can go back to your Angel.” She spat the last words, parodying his words from the safe house.
Bucky sat back in his seat, rubbing his chin. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He just wanted to push her away. He pushed too far. He almost lost her. He couldn’t avoid her any longer, she deserved an explanation.
“It wasn’t a lie,” he mumbled. Part of him didn’t want her to hear it, still wanting to starve off the conversation.
“What?”
He took a deep breath, leaning forward. His elbows rested on his knees with his hands clasped in front of him. His face turned serious. “I love you.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat while her face turned sour. “But I can't be with you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”
Bucky winced at the hurt in her voice. It hurt him too. That’s why he avoided the conversation for so long. “I’m too vulnerable around you. I fall back into my head way too easily. I don’t want to be reminded of my past. Then I met Ang- Evangelina and suddenly, I’m not thinking about all of the people I’ve killed, or the way HYDRA tortured me. With her, I’m living in the present.”
Y/N sat up harshly, the tears had stopped flowing a few sentences ago. “Because you won’t open up to her! You’re running from your problems and the second she’s gone, you’re gonna be stuck in your head again. Alone this time. Sorry, I was only a distraction long enough for you to fuck me. You don’t love her. You love the idea of normalcy with me!” She insisted, jabbing her finger into her chest.
Bucky closed his eyes, his head in his hands.
“For fucks sake, Bucky. She looks like me. This isn’t reality. This isn’t you. You're playing a role in some cheesy romcom. You’re letting her emulate me to fill a spot. She’s my understudy and you know it.”
Bucky ran his hands through his hair before looking up at her. Teary-eyed, he confessed, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am anymore. I just want to be normal again.” His head rested on his bent arms, leaning against the bed. His back jolted with each sob.
Y/N rubbed between his shoulder blades. “We’re not normal Bucky. None of the Avengers are, but we’re real.” She ran her hand through his hair comfortingly. “You and me, we’re real.”
He wiped his tears, shaking his head, “She’s out looking for a dog for us to adopt.”
Y/N scrunched her nose. They were taking the next step. Before she knows it, they'll be moving in together, getting married, and have a kid on the way.
“I don’t even want a dog. I couldn’t take care of it with my lifestyle. It just seemed like the normal thing to do. Most families have dogs.”
Y/N hated the idea of Bucky considering a family with Evangelina. She knew him better though. “I always took you for a cat person.”
Bucky smiled at her. “Yeah? What about you? Are you a cat person?”
She nodded. “Less work to train. More realistic in our lifestyle.”
Bucky hummed. The idea of them sharing anything both scared and delighted Bucky. “What kind of cat would we get?”
The corner of Y/N’s lips turned upward. Playing along, she didn’t need to think about her answer, she had already thought about it before. “It doesn’t matter, but he’d have to be white so I could see him against all of your black clothes. Although, cat hairs might be a pain before missions.”
Bucky nodded, his elbow on the bed, propped his head up in his hand. His other hand held Y/N’s as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand as she talked. With a raised eyebrow, Bucky asked, “He?”
Y/N nodded, offended he would suggest otherwise. “You know, so I can come home to my boys. Plus, you need more friends. You two can have a guy's night while I’m away.”
“What if I want to come home to my girls?” Bucky argued.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “We’ll let fate decide. Whichever we find first.”
He nodded, agreeing to the compromise. “Alpine.”
“Huh?”
Bucky sighed dreamily, “The name.” It was too easy talking with Y/N about adopting a cat as if they were discussing children. It hadn’t crossed Y/N’s mind yet, but Bucky was aware that he wasn’t thinking of the past. He was thinking of the future. A future with Y/N.
Y/N snorted. It wasn’t the name she would have picked but Bucky liked it. She got to pick the color; it was only fair Bucky got to pick the name. “Alpine it is.”
Three weeks later, Bucky and Y/N welcomed Alpine to their shared room at Avengers Tower. The team melted when they met the feline. Even Evangelina. Despite the breakup, Y/N and Evangelina remained friends. The women were filled with too much grace and poise, not to. A trait Bucky had admired in both of them. It should have unsettled Bucky for them to remain friends, but Bucky knew where he belonged now. He might not know who he was or who he is now, but he was certain his future was Y/N.
#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#james buchanan barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfic#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#bucky fic#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky#james bucky buchanan barnes#james barnes#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes one shot#bucky x reader angst#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst
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WHEN THEY’RE DADS
and how they deal with their children and domestic life.
pairing: dad & husband! wriothesley, lyney and neuvillette x fem! reader.
cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnancy is mentioned to introductions but not too elaborated. not beta read.
reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡
kazuha’s part. | part. ii
Wriothesley
If outsiders had previously felt intimidated just by the Duke's fame, with the announcement of your pregnancy, the mere mention of his name was capable of frightening even the bravest of men. And it was no wonder since now he was often seen patrolling the corridors of the Fortress of Meropide with a frown on his eyes and his fists clenched like he was ready to go into combat — if newest prisoners had already feared the idea of meeting him before, now they did anything to never be caught on his sight.
What they didn't know, however, was that internally Wriothesley was a nervous wreck about the whole situation, and his mask of aloofness was the only one he knew to use to hide the imminent fear that was bubbling in the depths of his soul.
Luckily for him, and for the citizens of the fortress, Wriothesley had a very attentive, convincing and confident wife. It was thanks to you and your assurances that the duke was able to calm down and overcome some of his insecurities and then finally celebrate the arrival of his son.
When this happened, even the guards felt they could breathe a sigh of relief and they thanked you, the duchess, for the sudden change in their boss. You just winked in complicity.
In turn, little Cameron couldn't have come into the world at the worst possible time, which only served to rekindle and feed Wriothesley's fears. You were weak and sick, barely able to move even with all of Sigewinne's treatments. Plus, Fontaine was going through too many abrupt changes for the two of you to keep up with, which only made your recovery more difficult. Wriothesley feared losing both you and the baby, but deep down he knew that his wife was stronger than she let on and that trusting you was the only thing to do.
And fortunately for him, Wriothesley wasn’t mistaken as both you and the baby managed to overcome all the terror that was the birth.
“Please don’t scare me like that anymore. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you both.” he had told you with a trembling voice from the fear still running through his veins.
“You need to start giving me more credit, Wrio”, you respond, kissing his cheek, “Your wife is too stubborn to let herself be overcome by any illness.”
Although Wriothesley initially had doubts about fatherhood, as his own background hadn’t given him a good view of it, he was an incredible father. His gentleness and affection were immeasurable and not just you, but the entire Fortress of Meropide could notice a soft side blooming in him. This didn’t mean that he left his guard completely goes down because the duke still remained adamant about the laws and administration of the prison.
Still, it was comforting (and even funny) to see the cryo user patrolling the production zones or administrative areas with a baby that looked so much like him held in a carrier on his torso — not that they dared mention it to him, much less get closer to the new father.
Cameron was also a very calm baby, rarely getting angry about something; instead, preferring to observe his surroundings. His icy blue eyes always seemed to sparkle with curiosity and Wriothesley found this characteristic particularly fascinating.
When it came to taking care of the baby, you and your husband always took turns so that the care of the child and the Fortress of Meropide was well managed. And to tell the truth, your teamwork was very good because when Wriothesley had to take on his duties as duke, Cameron was happy with your attention, and when you were requested as interrogator, your husband spent hours locked in his office with the mini version of him sitting on his lap as he enjoys a cup of tea as well.
Like every first-time father, Wriothesley faces the negative and positive sides of fatherhood. Some nights he is awakened by his past demons and a sudden dread appears to cloud his thoughts. But as he looks at his son's growth, celebrate the success of his small achievements and admire the honorable young man that Cameron is becoming, he knows he has done a good job and there is nothing to fear.
“Well, since we have nothing to fear, then it’s time for me to announce that I’m pregnant again, right?”
Lyney
Lyney liked to think that even if you didn't meet in this life, you would meet in your next incarnation; even if you belonged to different worlds, your souls would find a way to cross time and space to find each other. It was as if a red string that only the two of you could see connected both of you, and for the magician, it was undeniable to say that destiny itself had written your story or that the stars in the sky had illuminated his path to you.
The love that he had for you was unconditional, and Lyney doubted that there was anything in the entire universe that could contradict that fact.
But, well, that was before you gave him what would be the greatest gifts of his life. His twins babies Quentin and Corinne.
Now, that everyone knew that Lyney was a loving husband was nothing new. Since the beginning of your relationship, the blonde man has always made sure to emphasize your dating then later marital status and he had never hidden his affections towards you, whether they be publicly or not. And with the announcement of your pregnancy, his pride only seemed to intensify as he always had a characteristic smile on his face when you walked together through the streets of Fontaine, showing you off like you were a rare jewel much for you enjoyment.
His affection and gentleness towards you remained the same, although this time there was a greater care that you couldn't help but appreciate. Your husband was always ready to grant your wishes and he was able to understand your feelings even before you had to verbalize them. Lyney was very good at dealing with people so it was no surprise how magnificent of a father he’d be too.
And, well, to say it exceeded your expectations would be an understatement.
You had never seen Lyney cry except for his slight watery look on your wedding day. However, that changed with the arrival of the twins who gave you the vision of the man openly crying while holding the two children in his arms, making it impossible for him not to be moved by this new phase of his life — giving you a beautiful memory to remember for all eternity.
“They look so much like you”, he said after a pause, his voice still breaking, “They are beautiful”.
And in fact the twins had inherited all your genes, allowing from Lyney only the inheritance of his violet-cat-shaped eye. To say that this upset him would be an unforgivable lie because for Lyney there was no one in the world as beautiful as the mother of his children and it made him happy that they look just like you.
That being said, Lyney is a doting dad deeply in love with his children. He quickly adapted to fatherhood even with the ups and downs that come with it — after all, he still had his duties to the House of Hearth and some of his performances required him to travel to another nation, leaving you and the twins behind, but he didn't let it get him down and became stronger through it.
Furthermore, Lyney understood very well the tiredness of motherhood and always having to be available to the children, so in the late hours of the night he was responsible for feeding, changing diapers or paying attention to the two babies.
From an early age, Quentin and Corinne already showed to have personalities as distinct as he and Lynette and it brought a smile to his face when he saw a little of himself reflected in his children. While Quentin always seemed to have a lot of energy, Corinne only demanded her father's attention if it was for her basic needs or a nap in his warm embrace.
Lyney would have no problem showing his children off in the public eye once they got older, but as long as they were defenseless kids he’d prioritize their privacy. Until that day came, he’d keep you and the twins under his wings, teaching them to take care of each other but also to learn to be independent.
As was also to be expected, magic and illusion tricks are two constants in your house and Lyney loves showing little tricks to the twins who always give him the best reactions.
Finally, Lyney is a proud dad and is happy for his children's small achievements. All his love is shown through words and actions, never failing to show every day how much he cares for them. No matter what path Quentin and Corinne decided to take, he’d be the first to support them. And even though deep down he feared that the world might erase the sparkle in their eyes, he’d always protect their innocence, no mattering the means.
Neuvillette
Just as in the beginning it was somewhat sudden for the people of Fontaine to get used to the idea and the sight of their Iudex walking through the streets of the capital at your side, it was equally shocking for them when a few years, after getting married, the image of you and your slightly rounded belly appeared on the cover of The Steambird in an exclusive interview about your career and personal life — in fact, it sales were as abundant as the water that surrounded the hydro nation, not surprising Charlotte a bit who was delighted with the audience received.
After all, if there was one thing the journalist knew very well, it was that fontaineians would always crave good gossip.
Not much was revealed to satisfy the citizens' curiosity, but it served as a trigger to make them create the most absurd theories. You didn't seem to care about them at all, though. In fact, you even fueled some rumors for your own pleasure. Neuvillette, however, didn't appreciate them as much as you did, especially when it involved his name and his supposed “lack of sensitivity”. When these comments reached him, the sunny sky was replaced by a few rain clouds.
The unknown truth was that you and Neuvillette had been planning to start a family for a long time, you just didn't know how to since the Sovereign heritage was little studied and your husband was afraid of risking your health and safety for a selfish dream. It was only after a lot of persuasion, support and even medical advice from Sigewinne that the two of you were able to announce your pregnancy and then welcome little Éveline.
To say that Neuvillette was a helicopter husband during your pregnancy would be an understatement. All his worry and attention suffocated you to the point of almost making you go crazy. Even if his care for the smallest details and his devotion to you were appreciated, it was something that annoyed you when extremes.
But then, after the ordeal of childbirth and with the baby finally sleeping in his arms, you were able to notice a new side awakening in the dragon. A passionate and serene look that only his daughter could bring him.
Neuvillette loves having the little one around and rarely left her side in the first days of her life. Fatherhood, not surprisingly, suits him very well as your husband always knows how to meet your daughter's needs before you even take action — perhaps it was experience from all those centuries caring for the Melusines or perhaps it was just his instincts providing for his offspring. Whatever it was, you couldn't be more grateful for his efforts.
Éveline showed to have your features, but she also inherited all of Neuvillette's draconic traits, including his personality you’d dare to say.
In fact, about this last topic is a detail that you learned to avoid because if your daughter cries, Neuvillette is distressed, and if both father and daughter aren’t happy Fontaine is devastated by a torrential rain.
Furthermore, Neuvillette is expected to be fiercely protective of the baby, allowing only a small and significant number of people to meet her in the first months. After all, loving is caring and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.
A curious fact that you’d love to share with your friends but can only record in photos would be that every night, and on his rare days off, Neuvillette would transform into his draconic form so he could snuggle up to Éveline and make her sleep — the difference in size between them completely melting you.
And even though his daughter was a little too old for that, he still loves to share these moments with her.
Overall, Neuvillette is a very attentive and affectionate father, preferring to show his love through gestures rather than words. Physical contact is a constant in your home so Éveline learned to grow up in an environment where hugs and pats on the head are everyday gestures.
Neuvillette, even if he’s busy with all his duties as chief justice of Fontaine, will never fail to be present at every stage of his daughter's life, teaching and guiding her to become a respectable, fair and noble-hearted person.
.
.
a/n: i intended to rewrite kazuha's part, delete his solo post and add it here but it'd be very troublesome because some people has read already. even though i wished to let it all together i'll let it like the way it is already. furthermore, i don't know if it's gonna turn into a series since my will to write disappears as fast as it appears. but if so, i'll only write for these four men.
please let me know if there's any mistakes ;)
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin#genshin x reader#kaedehara kazuha#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kazuha x reader#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#lyney#lyney x reader#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#genshin dads au
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eddie knows his crush on steve harrington is a hopeless cause, okay?
he's somehow been friends with steve long enough to know what he looks like when he's flirting, what he looks like when he has a crush, when his sights are set on someone very non-eddie munson shaped. he also now knows how to hide his jealousy in a fake smirk that he flashes steve's way when yet another pretty girl walks their way with her sights set on him and a smirk of her own.
eddie always watches as steve reaches out a hand just so to gently brush it against a lovely lady's arm with that charming fucking smile and sees how that lovely lady will always melt at the touch. and who could blame her? certainly not eddie, the same eddie who's had his own sights set on steve harrington for what feels like a life time. if anyone knows how painfully a heart can beat when it sees him from across the room and imagines a date and a future and a life with steve, it would be eddie.
but that's where it ends. steve harrington, the ladies man that he is, always stops things there with a smile and a wave thrown in the woman's direction as she walks away. it throws eddie for a loop every time. he would watch the two flirt for minutes that that felt like torturous hours for him only for it to end with a disappointed look on her face and steve turning his attention back to eddie like nothing had happened.
it makes no sense.
"i don't get it, man," he says one day as steve lets yet another girl walk away down to the opposite end of the grocery store aisle they're in. steve's turned back to staring at the shopping list in his hand and is muttering to himself instead of watching her walk away like eddie is, disbelief coloring his face.
"don't get what?" steve asks back, not bothering to look up until the silence goes on for too long. his eyes land on eddie's and he frowns slightly, shaking his head slowly. "... did i miss something?"
eddie reels back, eyebrows furrowing together and motions his arms every which way, from the girl's retreating form to the empty space around them.
"steve, you're just going to let her walk away and not get her number? she was obviously hitting on you, dude."
he watches as steve's face crinkles slightly before smoothing out and shrugs his shoulders, turning back to grab the cat food eddie feeds to the strays off the shelf. he lurches forward and places his hands on steve's shoulders to face him, watching as his eyes go wide.
"what do you want me to say?" steve shrugs again and eddie can feel the movement under his hands. "i guess i wasn't feeling it."
eddie sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face before returning it back to steve's shoulder. "wasn't feeling it... steve, i'm gay, not blind. you two obviously were hitting it off with your fucking charming lines and flirty eyes. you always do this and it makes zero fucking sense-"
"-you're gay?"
steve says a bit too loud for eddie's liking even if they are currently hidden in the pet food aisle. heat floods his cheeks and he throws a hand cover steve's mouth while shushing him to keep him from saying it again. he sees steve's eyes go even wider and feels warmth spreading under his fingers.
is steve...
"you knew this!" eddie accuses in a whisper and tries to breathe evenly while steve's gaze travels all over his face. "we talked about it with robin that one time!"
... is he blushing?
there's a sudden pressure at his side and he looks down to see steve's fingers curling over his waist. eddie takes in a stuttering breath and brings his own wide eyes up to meet steve's. it's like looking in a fun house mirror, seeing his flush creeping up steve's neck and watching steve blink in time with him. he can feel when steve tries to say something, his lips ghosting over his palm and eddie pulls back like he's been burned, but steve's hand stays right where it is on his side.
"i absolutely would have remembered if you told me that before," he says and his voice is a little breathless. "there's no way i was there when you guys talked about it."
eddie thinks back to the party when he and robin were huddled up on their couch together. argyle and nancy were dancing in their socks on the living room floor, bouncing around to some experimental track that had been badly recorded on a cassette. jonathan was sitting at the coffee table snapping photos of them, joint hanging from his lips and easy smile spreading on his face.
eddie's trying to pinpoint where steve is in this memory and that's usually the easiest thing for him to remember, but he can't...
until suddenly he can, because steve walked in through the sliding door with his shirt over his shoulder and his swim trunks low on his hips and water dripping down his chest and a cigarette behind his ear and the sunset bleeding in through the windows was painting him golden and he was walking over to dance with nancy with a wide grin pulling at his cheeks and-
"god, i'm gay," eddie had breathed out. robin followed his line of sight and nodded because she gets it like she has a steve problem of her own and that was that.
eddie focuses back in on steve while they stand in the fucking pet food aisle, focuses on the shrill jingle pouring out of the grocery store speakers and not on the way he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, focuses on the way steve can look good even in harsh fluorescent lights.
"well, now you know," is all he can breath out.
steve smiles, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and his fingers curl even tighter around eddie's waist as he takes a half step even further into his personal space.
"you're why," steve says back easily and eddie reminds himself to breathe as the other side of his waist suddenly has a hand covering it, too. "i don't take their numbers, i don't give them mine, i don't go on the stupid dates they ask me out on because..."
the fingers dance up his side and eddie can't breathe.
"... they're not you, so why would i?"
eddie sends up a silent thank you to whoever is listening that they're hidden away from prying eyes in the pet food aisle so he can lean it and learn for the first time what steve's smile tastes like.
#under a read more solely for length one day i'll learn how to write short things#me everyday: oh this would be fun to write about! maybe 2 paragraphs or so!#and then this happens#steddie#steddie headcanon#my writing#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie drabble#steddie ficlet
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enha when you pass out on their shoulder ☁️
pairing : ot7 x gn!reader
genre : pure fluff
warnings : none!
word count : 0.75k
a/n : because you’re irresponsible like that ;) no but in all seriousness ‘passing out’ here just refers to falling asleep, not the medical condition 👍
💭 heeseung
just loves the sensations of you
your warm breath, faint on his chest; your hair spreading across his sweater; your fingers subconsciously playing and tugging at the sleeve
does it melt him? yes, it melts him
it melts him so much that he can’t sit straight anymore, he has to surrender to gravity and cuddle with you
slightly surprised when you don’t stir; he’s like “oh they’re knocked out” and decides to bridal carry you to the bed so you can stay comfy for the night
tucks you in and everything, he is father™ material methinks
💭 jay
drapes his jacket/blanket over you so fast
and so effortlessly
gentility is second nature for this man he is a GENTLEMAN
could stay perfectly still forever if that meant good sleep for you
and does exactly that the entire night, literally falls asleep in that position he loves you that much
then wakes up the next morning and nags you incessantly
“you are going to massage my shoulder for the next full hour.” “why :(“ “because i sacrificed the imminent comfort of my bed to be your pillow for 9 hours.”
maybe he’s dramatic but he’s right !!
💭 jake
mm. would rather have you sitting in his lap but this will do.
does the thing where he shifts his body towards you a bit and plants a billion kisses on the top of your head
you better be dreaming of him
eventually gives up on offering his shoulder, just hugs you
talks to you even if you’re unresponsive, partly bc he’d be lonely otherwise
but mostly bc he thinks it’s the perfect time to confess (as if he doesn’t confess to you through all of your waking hours)
“y/n you are so so beautiful” “i would give up the world for you”
is it possible to blush in your sleep?? bc jake would make it happen
💭 sunghoon
is so so smug about it
like “yes. see how their head fits perfectly into the crook of my neck. (it’s not a question.) soulmates indeed.”
HEAD PATS
just strokes your hair softly and he’s so nonchalant about it
if you weren’t already dozing his pets are so soothing they leave you in a SLUMBER
might even whisper cheesy little things knowing that you won’t remember them
“my princess 🥰” “my snuggle bear 😁”
okay i’ll shut up
💭 sunoo
it starts with a side eye (when does it not)
somewhere between concern and shock, he’s all like “this is not typical y/n behavior this is not the y/n i know this is not my y/n why are they not alive hold up—”
does the two fingers under your nose thing to check if you’re breathing
you are, of course, and then he’s just like well 😶 clingy y/n era. guess i’ll have to get used to this.
makes a point to rest his head on yours “this will be a symbiotic relationship not a parasitic one”
if you end up waking up and for witty banter’s sake the first thing you say is “your head was heavy 😒”
oh you are setting yourself UP there
“baby your existence weighs down on me /lh”
💭 jungwon
insert surprised cat face
tends to be the one snuggling into you so this throws him off a little, but in the best possible way
makes it his temporary life goal not to move
nearly an hour in, his neck is begging to be cracked
he hadn’t even noticed how stiff he’d become, he was watching you so intently
he’s thinking about holding out as long as he can but then he’s like “you are not a child you can find yourself a bed to sleep on”
still wakes you up sooo carefully, and when he realizes you’re too groggy to move, he lets you snooze on his lap instead
the way you and only you can break his resolve UGH where is my jungwon fr
💭 niki
absolutely EXHAUSTS your phone storage with 127000 photos of you
none of them are flattering, trust me
“it’s like a polaroid love” um more like polaroid done dirty
drool starting to escape your lips? 🤨📸
cheek squishing into his shoulder and you look like a fish? 📸🤭
adores you through it all of course
i do think he’s less the type to whisper sweet nothings while you’re asleep, but only bc he’d rather see your flustered reaction and make fun of it
#wonwayne#enhypen#enhypen fic#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen drabbles#lee heeseung#heeseung#park jongseong#jay#sim jaeyun#jake#park sunghoon#sunghoon#kim sunoo#sunoo#yang jungwon#jungwon#nishimura riki#niki
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