#your husband and you are on the rocks i'll take you

[kiwisbell]

helen ; chapter five

be seeing you

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the choice.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 9.3k a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo prev | next

Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood. 

The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.

“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”

Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”

“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”

“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”

You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”

“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”

You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”

Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”

You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth. 

Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will. 

Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do. 

You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver. 

Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?

You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones. 

In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain. 

Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”

He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”

Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love. 

The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring. 

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him. 

“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”

Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother. 

“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”

“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”

“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”

“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”

Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”

“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”

“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”

Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.

“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”

Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.

God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.

Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”

“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”

Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath. 

“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”

“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”

“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”

Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”

“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”

Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”

The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out. 

He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job. 

“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet. 

Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”

“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above. 

“Joel…”

For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep. 

Joel… Are we going to be okay?

“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed. 

“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”

Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says. 

This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear. 

“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”

A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow. 

“Hey, kid,” says the apparition. 

Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”

“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”

“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”

“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”

Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”

“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”

Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.

“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.

A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.

He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.

The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time. 

He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.

It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world. 

It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge. 

You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"

Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."

"Did he..."

"Yeah."

Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah."

Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does. 

There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind. 

Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger. 

“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing. 

Don't hurt me again. 

He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly. 

“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”

Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black. 

You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before. 

He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told. 

It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—

“Please.”

He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.

You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.

He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again. 

“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention. 

And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers. 

“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep. 

You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly. 

The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging. 

“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”

He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—

You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down. 

Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop. 

“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”

He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”

“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”

Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs. 

“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”

Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. 

“He knows.”

You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear. 

He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to. 

You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back. 

Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.

“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”

You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans. 

“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”

“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”

His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin. 

“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply. 

Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.

You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole. 

You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks. 

You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter. 

He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again. 

He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you. 

Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.

Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.

"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"

Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."

“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”

He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”

Your stomach twists. “What happened?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”

Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.

Joel. Just Joel. 

“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly. 

“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”

You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”

Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”

“Joel…”

“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”

“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile. 

“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”

“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”

“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.” 

He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”

Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”

“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”

He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful. 

“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”

It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”

“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day. 

“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”

He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”

You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”

Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…” 

“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”

His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”

“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”

He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth. 

“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning. 

“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”

“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”

You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs. 

The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve. 

“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”

Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”

You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”

He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there.  “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.” 

“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”

Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”

He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him. 

“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”

Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”

“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”

You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”

He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply. 

“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor. 

“You didn't kill Cabrera.”

Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”

“So there's still a contract on your head.”

“For now.”

“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”

“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”

You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm. 

“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”

“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”

He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his. 

“Do what you need to do.”

He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded. 

Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental. 

“That's a heavy price on your head.”

“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”

“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”

“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”

“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”

Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”

“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.” 

Silent, he waits for more. 

“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”

Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”

“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”

“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”

High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose. 

It's raining. 

The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover. 

“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall. 

Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun. 

“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”

“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”

He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”

“Joel.”

There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—

“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”

It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be. 

He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man. 

You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing. 

The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now. 

Joel steps out of the car. 

He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest. 

Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger. 

It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left. 

The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt. 

“Joel,” greets Cabrera. 

“Manuel.” 

His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep. 

“Let's finish this.”

The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning. 

“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”

And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals. 

A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious. 

But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow. 

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it. 

Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears. 

Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life. 

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last. 

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet. 

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade. 

But the song of death does not call to him now. 

For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle. 

The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did. 

Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now. 

He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel. 

Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest. 

There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket. 

“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”

A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave. 

“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.

He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. 

If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now. 

Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.

His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call. 

And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat. 

Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home. 

So he does. 

#fic: helen #kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #john wick au

[calumfmu]

omg stop that (loser)step dad!steve blurb was so cute u should do one where like reader and steve have a little baby girl and the boys are like "😒😒😒..." but once she's born, she's got them wrapped around her tiny finger LOL like they're completely enamoured by her once they see her

thank you babbyyyy <3 hope you enjoyed this one. it's a bit on the shorter side (well for me), but i'm glad that you enjoyed the first part. No cw for now, just cuteness. 901 words

She was beautiful. Her tiny fingers pressed to her chest, body curled up in that cute position newborns make, a soft towel wrapped around her as Steve rocked her in his arms. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, wetness dampening his lashes as he whispered to her.

"Hi, babygirl," he smiled, gently running a finger over her head. She had little strands of dark hair there, color mirroring his own. You sat on the hospital bed, exhaustion coursing through your veins, yet a small smile sitting on your lips.

They looked perfect there together, father and daughter. Steve was meant for this, you could tell. In this moment, you felt a similar feeling to your birth with your other two sons, like life made sense.

There was a knock on the door, it creaking open to reveal the nurse, head popping through.

"Harrington?" She smiled, voice low as she took notice of the sleeping baby in your husband's arms. The both of you looked towards her, eyes crinkling with the happy emotions you felt. "I have some people who want to meet the little girl."

She stepped into frame, your sons piling in. Your eldest son had his serious look on his face, lips pressed together as he looked bored. Your youngest was in a similar fashion, trying his hardest to mimic his brother, yet you could see right through the two of them. The nurse left the four (and a half) of you alone, closing the door behind her with a soft shut.

"Hey you guys," you whispered, voice raspy as you reclined. Your eldest looked concerned at you winced, shifting in your bed.

"Ma, you okay?" He said, eyes wide. Nodding, you smiled, opening up your arms as they both came to your side, hugging you. Steve stood watching you, rocking with his body as his eyes kept flitting back on your daughter in his arms.

"You want to meet her?" You asked, smiling as they both nodded. They tried keeping serious expressions, but you could see it in their eyes, they were curious. Your youngest ran over to Steve, peering over him as he caught sight of her. Immediately, he melted, mouth parting open in shock as she made a small noise, face scrunching up.

"She's so small," he whispered, placing a light touch on her blanket-covered body. Steve laughed, nodding in agreement. "Can-can I hold her?"

"Yeah, buddy," Steve said, head nodding over to the chair in the corner of the room. "Just gotta sit down first, and I'll hand her over."

He complied, running over to plop down, arms wide open. Steve placed her in his arms, instructing him on how to hold his arms out. The two of them were beaming, sharing their thoughts on how she looked, your son saying she looked like him if anything. Steve hovered over him, smiling, but you could see that protectiveness already kicking in, his eyes watching like a hawk at every movement your son made.

You drew your gaze away from them, looking at your oldest who stood awkwardly, a few feet away from the bed, gaze stuck on the baby. He kept looking at Steve too, suspicion on his face.

"You want to hold her too, sweetie?" Apprehension covered your voice, not sure how to deal with him when it came to this. It had been a year and a half since you and Steve were married, yet he was still wary of the man he called a 'stranger in 'our' home'. There was nothing you could've done or said that would have made him accept Steve faster, figuring that it would work itself out on its own. It hurt you, but it was your normal now.

"Ah, I think I'm good," he nodded, but still kept his eyes on her. He gasped when his little brother shifted his elbow, her body dipping a little bit. "Watch your elbow--Jesus Christ, man."

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. You bit back a smile at the outburst, knowing that he was in the same boat as all of you--smitten over this little girl who was not even aware of the world yet, let alone all of you.

"Babe, go hold her," you whispered, nodding your head at him. He looked at you, eyes wide. "It's okay."

Crossing the room, he maneuvered her out of the younger boy's arms, gripping her firmly. She rested against his shoulder, a small cry of a noise leaving her mouth. He looked up at Steve, fear on his face. "Is that--was that normal? Did I hurt her?"

Steve shook his head, leaning into him as he placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't complain at the touch, the first time that has happened. Hope bubbled at your chest, your boys finally all being connected.

The young boy in the chair kicked his feet, impatience pulling at him. "Okay, you're done! You're taking too long, my turn now!"

"Shut it, I've only held her for, like, 6 seconds!"

"That's not fair! Steve! Tell him!" He cried out, pouting exaggeratedly.

"Boys relax! She'll be here a while, there's plenty of time," Steve laughed, holding his hands out in front of him. They quieted down, eyes returning to rest on her. Your heart felt full, grateful for this little bundle that graced your world, finally bringing your family together.

Masterlist! Inbox and requests are open! <3

#my writing #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x reader #stepdad!steve #older!Steve harrington

[gayofthefae]

Natalia Buddie callout this Marisol Buddie callout that yada yada yada we have been THROUGH this booooring but you know what we haven’t been over?

KAMERON CALLOUT. Give me a hormonal pregnant lady done with their bullshit not even lifting her head from her place in bed as she lazily shouts after Eddie leaves “so is that your boyfriend?”

Same vibes as the pasta. She’s just bored and tired and curious. She has no stake in it whatsoever she just also has no filter. Like if he says no she will move tf on but Buck will be thinking about it constantly and bring it back up with her like he did the couch with Bobby and she’ll have like forgotten she even said anything.

I highkey love my girl Kameron. And I want her and her husband to like be on good terms but also her being still staying with Buck in 7x01 and therefore a larger character is something I would LOVE.

#911fox #911 kameron #has my whole heart and literally all it took was that pasta scene #i think this is a classic case of 'i've seen you stressed i've seen you emotional but i did not give a fuck until i saw you enjoying your ho #bbies or your idiosyncrocies' #poor kameron and her husband hope that gets better yeah yeah stealing his spaghetti as his new girlfriend LEAVES HIM???? Iconic hilarious if #your husband and you are on the rocks i'll take you #911 speculations #buddie speculations

[kissforyouu]

pent up stress

pairing : husband!jungkook x wife!reader

genre : smut , fluff

warnings : there is a babyy , oc is a stressed mom , jk relieving all her stress , nicknames used : sweetheart/honey/my love , sexual : clit play , fingering , cum eating , making out , oral sex (f recieving) , lactation kink , p in v , mate press (?)

unedited.

"shh, shh, it's okay, baby."

you gently pat your baby's back, switching from patting it and rubbing it up and down every second.

"my baby, hmm, it's fine. don't cry, don't cry, my love." you rock your baby up and down while spinning around the room, walking back and forth, doing all sorts of things to calm the baby down.

"sweet baby." leaning your head down to press a soothing kiss onto your baby's forehead, then another, another, and another and so on. there's a small smile forming on your face once your baby calms down a little.

"come on, shhh. goodnight, my love..." you carry your baby to his nursery, tip toeing, not wanna risk anything as you slowly bend your body forward to place the sleeping baby on the crib. and just as you do that—

"waaaahhhhhhhh! "

ah. yeah. right.

quickly retrieving back to your old position, your hand immediately flies to lay on top of your baby's back meanwhile your other arm is wrapped around your baby's body.

letting out a sigh mixed with exhaustion, you press your baby's head onto your chest, letting him listen to your heartbeat. please go to sleep. earlier you read an article saying that letting the baby listen to the mother's heartbeat makes them sleep better. please work.

don't get me wrong. your son is the best the best thing that has ever happened to you. he's your everything and you've always wanted to be a mom. but sometimes, it's just so hard. but you're aware that this is not something you can avoid and is prone to happen. and seeing your son's cute bunny smile at the end of the day was worth all the struggles. no matter how exhausting it can get sometimes.

it was around 3am now, after all.

your back was pressed against the headboard as you cuddled your baby into your embrace. half lidded, you watch your turn his face from side to side on your chest, trying to find a comfortable position and a few small squeaks leaving him here and there.

there's a small smile on your face while you rub your baby's back soothingly. meanwhile also trying not to fall asleep on spot.

but just as you were about to go against your own words and fall asleep, the door creeps open, making you jolt back up to look for who it is, only to see your husband's head peaking from behind the door.

he walks in, taking big but silent steps towards you.

jungkook smiles, "how's my babyboy doing?"

"he's a very bad baby tonight." you huff with a small grin, playfully, "but i managed to put him to sleep."

jungkook giggles, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your sleeping baby's cheek. your son squeaks, shifting his face from one side to another while comfortably laying his head on your chest.

"gimme the baby, honey. i'll put him to in the cot. you should get ready for bed." he pats your hair, twirling one of your strands.

"hm, okay." you get up, gently placing the baby in your husband's arms. but then—

the baby suddenly yelps, fists clutching onto your shirt tightly. you're startled, but you handle the situation just fine.

"ah, ah, ah, my baby." you're groaning, you're tired. but it's okay. you look at jungkook, the dark circles around your eyes very clear, but it's okay.

"oh, come on, baby. come to papa, it's okay." jungkook hums a small tone, one that your son for sure likes, as you slowly sneak the baby into his arm.

without even noticing the change of positions, your baby just snuggles into the familiar warmth of your husband's chest.

sigh. you sigh, sitting back on the bed.

"get ready for bed, my love."

you nod, just getting up from the bed and walking back to your shared bedroom.

by the time jungkook manages to fully calm your baby down and place him in his crib and come back, he finds you still on the bed blankly staring at the wall.

he's confused. shouldn't you be in bed already?

"honey, what's this? not sleepy?" there's concern written all over his face.

"are you okay?"

the moment he asks that, he notices your face turning completely sour with a big pout forming on your face. oh no, he knows that face very well.

"hey, hey, what's wrong?" jungkook quickly rushes to sit next to you, his hand now on your back, rubbing up and down and flattening any wrinkles on your shirt.

without any warning, you pull your husband closer by his arm and hugs him tight, face buried deep in his neck.

"i feel so exhausted." a small mumble.

your husband sighs, immediately noticing the problem.

"i know, sweetheart, i know. it's okay. just calm down for now, hm?" he leans his back against the headboard, pulling you closer to his body as you curled up into a small ball and let yourself be comforted by your husband's soothing heartbeat.

"we had this talk before, remember? days like this are prone to happen. and we have to get through it somehow." he whispers into your ear, pressing kissing in between his sentences as well. you hum, lightly nodding your head, agreeing.

"it's for our little baby. you're the best mommy i know and ever will know. just imagine us telling sannie about how much of a hussle he was when he's older." he chuckles, placing kisses on the crown of your head.

you smile into his chest, nodding.

"it's for our sannie." you mumble and jungkook hums, gently massaging your head. jungkook brushes his fingers through your hair, gently, soothingly, almost making you fall asleep. he had his head leaned downwards, forehead pressed against the crown of your head as he planted small pecks all over your forehead and eyelids.

"jungkook." you pull on his shirt, slowly making your way out of his embrace.

he just hums, caressing your cheek so softly.

stop. you love him so much.

you touch his hand on your cheek, leaning forward to connect your lips with him. your husband immediately smiles into the kiss, his fingers holding your face so gently as your lips moved against eachother perfectly.

his tongue licks your lower lip, slowly sneaking its way in your mouth. the tip of your tongues meet eachother, smoothly gliding against eachother as you to make out. like, really hard.

there's soft little noises coming out of the smacks of your lips, both of you eating eachothers faces out. not being able to hold back, you whimper, your fingers gripping onto jungkook's biceps.

you makeout for a few more seconds then breaking out for air.

jungkook couldn't help but let out a small squeaky laugh.

and oh, that laugh. it brought you back to the days where you both were just two highschoolers starting to like eachother. made you feel like a little girl having her first crush.

thinking about that had you forming the biggest cheekiest smile on your lips.

jungkook was a little confused at your change of expressions, but he just smiles it off. you sit up on his lap again, pulling your husband in for another kiss.

so you kiss.

but then, jungkook manages to get you to lay down on your bed on your back and him slowly getting on top of you. almost sneakily.

breaking from your kiss, you groan, letting your head fall onto the bed. jungkook snickers, almost evil, body laying softly on top of yours as he pulls you into another kiss. now, your legs are crushing his thighs, caging him between them while both your hands gripped onto his shoulders.

while you both are eating out eachother's faces, jungkook's hand slithers under your baggy sweatshirt, massaging your soft stomach.

"hm..." he hums, squeezing your tummy fat.

you both open your eyes at the same time, jungkook breaking down to a small giggle again. the tip of your tongues brush past eachother over and over again. fuck, you're getting so hot. you bet your face is as red as a tomato right now.

your husband brings up his other hand to hold you face by your cheek, then his tongue leaves you for a brief moment—and instead, he spits a globe of spit down to your mouth.

"swallow."

gladly, you swallow it down, opening your mouth again with your tongue out to show that you've done as he said.

jungkook huffs, smirking—fuck, he's so breathtakingly attractive.

"my amazing little wife. best woman in the world. best mama." his words flutter your stomach entirely. you swear you could see the butterflies flying out of your stomach.

you just smile in return, and that's more than enough for him.

"are you feeling any better, my love?" jungkook caresses your cheek as if you were the most fragile being on earth, touching you with so much gentleness.

you just hum with a small nod. but your hand touches jungkook's one that was on your cheek, then you put his fingers in your mouth.

jungkook watches you with amusement as you wet his fingers with your saliva. once you felt satisfied enough, you pull his fingers out. lifting up the hem of your sweatshirt using your other hand, you glide jungkook's fingers down your body, leaving a small trail of saliva on your stomach.

once you've reached your pelvis, you lift up little shorts, pushing his hand inside.

"touch me, jungkook." you moan out.

and i swear to god, jungkook swore he's never ever seen his wife hotter than this moment. he felt all the blood rush down to his pants, his dick hardening each second.

"shit—" his voice was so breathy, "you're so hot. baby, i'm gonna lose my mind." he takes a deep breath before diving straight down to your neck. he begins to kiss and suck on your neck, nibbling here and there, biting too. meanwhile, jungkook also makes sure to add a little bit of pressure to your clit. not doing anything but just pressing onto it subtly. tease.

you moan as your husband continues to suck and bite all over your neck, leaving little hickeys all over.

"i need you so bad, kook. please take care of me..." the last bit of words leave you in a whisper. jungkook almost feels dizzy from your words, god he loved it so much.

"i'm so tired, hm. need you to make me cum to relax me." you're caressing the top of his cheek with the pad of your thumb.

jungkook loved seeing you needy.

"alright, honey." he places one final kiss on your forehead.

jungkook spreads your legs further apart, fingers skimming over your soft cotton shorts over and over. and once he sees the little wet spot in between your thighs, it almost makes him drip the drool out of his mouth.

"ahh, pretty." his thumb rubs over the wet spot, caressing it and pressing onto your clothed clit. through your shorts, jungkook pinches your clit, making you let out a small squeal.

"just get to it, hmph." you groan. jungkook's smirk just widens more. your husband nods, taking off your shorts.

"ah, fuck, prettiest pussy ever, baby." the tip of his fingers dips in between your mushy folds, collecting some of your arousal. he brings it to your clit to get it wet, then gently rubbing circles on top. you whimper, nodding.

jungkook lowers his body down, hooking his arm behind your thigh, hoisting it up a bit. his body lays fully flat on the bed, between your thighs with his face pressing kisses all over your thighs. he also bites your flesh, not too hard but not too soft— well, hard enough to form little marks for sure. he bites a spot on your thigh inches away from your pussy, then flicking his tongue on that area, gently sucking it afterwards.

like this, your husband makes sure to leave small hickeys all over your thighs and take his time. while you were left squirming and the puddle in between your thighs just growing and growing.

i thought you said no teasing?

jungkook swipes his thumb over one of your hickeys, caressing it and then leaning forward to press little kisses over it.

"love these fuckin' thighs."

and without a warning when your eyes were closed, your husband decides to dive into the messy in between your folds with a long lick.

"ah!" surprised, you hook your fingers into jungkook's hair. he hums, licking stripes of your pussy. kitten licking your hole, his fingers tease your clit. he circles your clit slowly while his lips latch onto one of your folds, sucking on it.

jungkook pulls away with a groan, making you let out a long relieved sigh.

"more."

"hm."

he gets right back to licking your pussy, making long strokes from your hole to your clit. then he spits on your clit first, tongue immediately swiping over your clit repeatedly. it was the perfect stimulation to beg you for more. his eyes were closed, he seems to be in the moment enjoying your pussy as if it was his last meal. while making out with your clit, he decides to have some mercy on your hole.

your husband plunging two of his fingers in your pussy was the cherry on top for you.

"ah— ah, ah! mmh...!" your grip on his hair tighten. back arched, face thrown back, whimpering and moaning so fucking loud.

"shhh, you might wake sannie up, my love."

you nod vigoursly, pushing your husband's face deeper into your pussy and grinding. jungkook was going at an animalistic pace, his face completely smothered all over your pussy. your arousal mixed with his drool was all over his face. his jaw was already beginning to ache, but he didn't care. all he cared about was whether his pretty wife was satisfied or not.

his fingers thrust in and out of your hole sloppily. the scene was so messy. he loved how squishy your pussy felt. and that just made him think more about how you'd feel wrapped around him again.

one last tug and bite on your clit, you let out one last long moan, pulling onto your husband's hair roots as your cum gushed down your cunt.

"shit, oh fuck" your husband whines at the sight of your swollen cunt.

he caresses up and down your cunt with the back of his middle and ring finger. you hiss at the cold feeling of his wedding ring pressing onto your clit as if that whole finger wasn't just inside you just a minutes ago. jungkook realises you liked it. so he smirks, slapping your swollen cunt with the back of his fingers repeatedly, especially making sure his ring is slapped against your clit over and over again.

"kook!—whine haaaaah! haah, hh!"

he slaps your thigh harshly to get you to stop squirming around. once his wish is fullfilled, he forces open your thighs, diving right back into your slit again.

"jungkook!" you were already overstimulated enough.

his eyes were closed once again and nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. face buried deep in your pussy again, he carefully lapped at your sweet juices away with long satisfied hums against your cunt.

"hm, hmm, hm— so good." he reassures.

and a last little kiss was on top of your swollen clit. you let out a small mewl followed by relieved sigh.

"how are you feeling, baby?"

"good, so good. thank you." you pant.

"anything for my heart." he coos, kissing your temple.

aw. he said "my heart". your heart melted.

jungkook pokes your cheek with a smug grin as he lifted his body up and got off of the bed. huh.

"where are you going?"

"to clean you up?" he raises his eyebrow at you, slightly confused.

"what?"

"what do you mean what?"

"well— uh, i thought you were gonna..." you pout.

"hm?"

"kook, please fuck me. i am so horny and i need you so bad." there we go. jungkook's jaw was on the floor for the second time today. i can't lie, he was loving this new side of you. bold and straightforward. you're more vocal about your sexual needs now. you never were before.

he opens his mouth to say something, but shrugs while biting his lips, hurriedly getting on top of you again.

"shiiiiiiit, let me take care of you, mama."

your husband's fingers hook onto the hem of your shirt, pulling it upwards to take it off of you. he gawks at the sight of your tits, squished in your bralette. he hurries to take it off, throwing it away not caring where it may land.

his big hands impatiently grab your tits which were filled and heavy with milk. he looked completely hypnotised. squeezing and massaging your tits, his eyes glued to the milk that's leaking out of your nipples. swiping his thumb over your nipples over and over, jungkook looks over to you, asking for permission.

you nod.

immediately taking in one of your nipples in his mouth, your husband begins to suck relentlessly.

"oh, jungkook...!" your hand was on the back on your husband's head, instinctively massaging his scalp while he dived into your breasts.

he spits on your nipple then swirls his tongue on the saliva, dragging it all over your chest. the artwork being created on your chest was very messy, like always. he playfully bites your soft flesh and pulls it as if he could just bite a chunk off of you.

"tastes surprisingly good."

"surprisingly good?" you crack up a laugh, tilting your head to the side as you ruffled his hair.

"yeah."

he squeezes your breast again, fingers travelling from there down to your pussy again. with a smug face, jungkook parts your legs again, getting in between. he playfully flicts your clit just to earn an annoyed groan from you. apologising with a little kiss on your clit, your husband begins to rub himself through his boxers.

pulling his cock out, he slaps it on your clit a few times, making sure your clit was covered in his precum. then, he glides it down to your hole teasingly slow. spitting on his cock to use it as lubricant, he finally glides it in your drenched cunt.

"ohhh"

"ohhh"

both you and jungkook moan at the same time, loving—obsessively loving the feeling you just got. shit, that felt good. like so so so good. especially after waiting for his cock to slide in you.

"so warm, mama. so perfect for me. you're all mine." he just cups your face, staring at you so lovingly. jungkook holds up your legs by your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. his cock goes in and out of you steadily. short timed pants from the both of you take over the room, mixing well together and creating a small harmony even.

jungkook couldn't get over how pretty your pussy looked. so pretty and perfect for him. he was aware that you did have a bit of insecurities building up after your pregnancy. but being the sweet loving husband he is, he had a talk with you and reassured you that he still saw you the same, and of course he will for the rest of his life. you were everything to him. so perfect.

he spits a ball of saliva onto your clit, watching it dribble down to mix with his thrusts. he swipes his thumb over the small patch of hair on top of your cunt, groaning.

watching jungkook act completely mesmerised with your cunt only made you wetter and his thrusts grow even rougher.

his thighs snap into your ass like a drum, the sound of skin slapping and moans and whines filling the room. mostly yours. but you knew better to keep it on the low.

"shit, oh, mama!"

jungkook spreads your legs by the knees now, both your knees ending up on the sides of your head. his body leaned down to yours, breath fanning against your lips as he quite literally manhandled the fuck out of you.

the sex wasn't rough, though. it's like he didn't want to make it rough. but it felt so good. but he made sure to increase his pace at odd times just to rile you up.

"mm, haaaaaa!"

he knew you needed to come from clit stimulation though. so to make it easier, your husband moves your left leg to his right hand, his hand holding both your legs now as he fucked into you.

"oh my god, jungkook!"

immediately squeezing your eyes shut at the sudden stimulation on your clit, your breath hitches and toes curl. your husband rubs your clit in the form of an eight, pinching it then and there too.

"hmmmm, you're gonna cum?"

you nod repeatedly, eyes squeezed shut and feeling completely fucked. no pun intended.

"yeah? cum. cum so i can fuck it deeper into you." he rubs your clit faster, increasing his pace. you whine out loud as your sweet cum comes down, making your body shake under your husband's grasp. jungkook groans once your juices coat his dick as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"oh my god, i love you...so much!" you choke out, nails digging into your bedroom. shit, that was just what jungkook needed to release.

"fucking hell, say that again." he throws his head back, bringing both your legs up in the air again and pressed against eachother as he fucked into you.

"i love you!"

"ahh, shit, shit..." he groans, thrusts getting sloppier as he cums down your cunt. he collapses right next to you, hugging your thighs close by your knees. while both you and jungkook regain consciousness while laying on the bed for a few seconds, you also make sure to admire his afterglow and also to tuck a few of his hair strands away.

jungkook gets up fast though, but never misses to kiss your hand. he quickly grabs a tissue and cleans in between your legs.

you yawn, snuggling into the sheets.

"you just wanna go to sleep?"

you nod. but you get up, making a quick trip to the bathroom to pee. by the time you're back, the sheets are changed are new, neatly tucked too. your heart immediately warms as you smile widely, wrapping your arms around your husband and kissing his cheek.

"i love youuu!"

"i love you more, baby!" he pecks your pouty lips. he tells you to dress up while he goes to check on your baby. once he comes back, you're happily tucked in your bed with a big fat smile on your face.

"someone's feeling better, huh?" he scrunches his nose up.

"uhhuh!" you nod also, patting the vacant spot next to you on the bed. jungkook happily lays there, inviting you to lay in his arms.

"i love you, mama. god, i'm so crazy for you. thank you for all you're doing, honey."

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #smut #bts #bts jk #bts smut #jungkook x you #x yn #yn #bts x you #bts x reader

[billysgun]

smitten

billy the kid x fem!reader |requested!|billy is still love-sick for you with your new domestic life and baby boy|

the baby stirs in your grip softly, a grin spreads on your face as your infant sleeps soundly in your arms

you turn as the door opens, billy takes his hat off and a wide smile finds his lips at the sight of you two

"how was your ride?" you whispered. billy often rides into the meadows -sometimes turning for the town if you need anything- after he left his outlaw life behind and married you. he's a cowboy at heart, though, so he rides almost every morning

"it was great," he said, voice low, he moved toward you pushing a loose strand of your hair to the side to get a good look at your face

"you look gorgeous" he whispered, a smitten look deep in his eyes as he moved down to kiss you

still as lovesick as ever, you melt into the kiss, and the baby in your arms whines at your attention moving and billy makes sure to greet him too

"hey little cowboy" he whispers and kisses the top of your baby's head, the infant's eyes barely open to see his dad

billy impossibly grins wider once your baby boy smiles at him, their matching eyes filled with love as billy scoops him up

"did you sleep good last night?" billy babbles to the baby,

"I'll make breakfast while you too talk" you giggle as you make your way to the kitchen, billy follows as the mumbles to the child

"mama's gonna make us some food. you'll help her one day so pay attention"

he narrates your movements to your baby, as you fry a few eggs your eyes drift to your husband and you couldn't help your heart as it swelled at the sight

this tall, threatening-looking man with a gun on his hip rocked your baby ever so softly with a love-filled grin plastered on his face

"I love you" you told him, he looked up at you before stepping closer to kiss you slowly

"I love you more than you could ever know"

an: thank you for the request! <3 I love love love the simple life with billy 🥺🫶

#billy the kid #the hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games imagine #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #catching fire #coriolanus snow #william bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #coryo snow #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games rp #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #hunger games

[littlemiss-yeehaw]

You're Gonna Be Quiet

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: It's just an undercover mission, anyone could be married for one night - even you two.

Warnings: profanity, flirting, yucky old men, suggestive content (?), possessive Bucky <3

MINORS PLS DNI

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: y'all.... im not an author. im an artist, not an author, so PLS go into this with that knowledge. but I have been convinced, no, coerced into posting this little funsy by @ellemj

she threatened to withhold vacation pictures from me as if I didn't draw her bucky barnes dick earlier today and I'll be damned

anyways,, please enjoy and manage your expectations :,)

“Okay, rumor has it the target, Mr. Beaumont, has a thing for married women,” Sam says casually as he holds a ring between his thumb and forefinger, “so for this mission, you get to be Mrs. Barnes.”

He tosses the ring in your direction and you catch it with a sour expression. You slip the rock on your finger and admire it, your scowl slipping just a moment as you watch how it catches the sun. That is until you see Bucky with an equally foul look on his face. Suddenly, your frown reappears.

“Sam, I feel like there is certainly someone better suited for this than me,” you grumble as you put your hand down and look back up at him, “I mean, aren’t these undercover missions more of a Natasha thing?”

Sam rolls his eyes before turning to face you, a hand on his hip. You were in for a scolding. “Natasha has her own mission. So today, you get to be Mrs. Hart. And you,” he turns to Bucky with a smug expression, “will be Mr. Hart. Any questions? No? Good, you two lovebirds go get your outfits on.”

You turn quickly, but not quick enough to miss the death stare Bucky shoots Sam. This one seems even more lethal than his typical one.

~~~

The ride to the gala is silent. Bucky is always silent, but this silence seems more… suffocating. You fiddle with the ring on your finger before glancing over at him. “Are you planning to even look at me before we get there? I mean, we’re supposed to be a marri-”

“You’re supposed to be a woman in an unhappy marriage who's looking to fuck a billionaire,” he says bluntly, not even turning towards you, “I’m just making sure that you look plenty unhappy.”

He would never admit out loud that the real reason he won’t spare you a second glance is because the first glimpse of you dolled up sent almost all the blood in his rational mind straight to his cock. He needs to preserve what little sense he has left.

~~~

You get out of the car with a huff. Just as Bucky intended, you look unhappy and thoroughly irritated. You pull the hem of your little black dress down in an attempt to recover some of your dignity, but all Bucky notices is how the little tug causes your breasts to be even more apparent. Yep, there went the rest of the blood.  

He sighs and grabs your hand before plastering a fake smile onto his lips. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You sigh and forget anymore yanking on your dress, looking up at him with a grim expression. “Let's,” you mutter under your breath before letting him lead you into the gala. 

As expected, the event is extravagant and no doubt costly. You feel out of place, and you can’t help the way you move a little further into your ‘husband’s side. You let a breath of air past your lips as you look around the room for your target. Nowhere to be seen, you nearly move further into the room before Bucky squeezes your hand gently and nods to his left. You’re quick to ignore the flutter of butterflies that his touch sends shooting through you and casually look where he’s pointed. Surely enough, at the bar, sits a piggish man nursing a flute of champagne. Your eyes find Buckys and you shoot him a look before you drop his hand and make your way over.

You take a seat a few bar stools down from the man, making sure to fail at getting the bartender's attention. “Sir? Sir, could I-” You drop your hand with a sigh, feigning a disheartened expression.

“Sir, this lady would like a drink,” like a mouse in a trap, Mr. Beaumont waves him down for you and orders you a drink, “you look like you’d drink something fruity, a little thing like you. Maybe a sex on the beach?”

You wish you’d missed the way his lips pulled up in a foul grin and the way his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and you really wish you hadn’t seen his greedy eyes rake over your body. Nonetheless, a soft laugh and a bat of your lashes grace him instead of the scowl that wants to pull at your lips.

“I’ve never had one before,” you say with a saccharine smile, “maybe we could share.”

You notice how his eyes nearly bug out of his head and then slowly trail to your hand. He slides his fingers, not dissimilar to link sausages, down to your left hand where he trails a thumb over your ring. “Are you sure your husband wouldn’t mind,” he asks with that same vile grin, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“Not particularly, but I’m sure I don’t care,” you whisper teasingly, leaning forward and showing off your tits that practically beg to fall from your dress. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you think as the man runs a heavy hand up the side of your leg and his eyes trail down your neck to your cleavage.

Trembling anger washes over Bucky as he watches the man practically feel you up in the middle of the bar. The beads of perspiration running down the target's neck and the way he keeps nervously licking his lips give Bucky all the indication he needs to know this man thinks you’re his. Then Bucky turns to look at you. You. You’re just letting the man have his way, no, you’re encouraging it. Yes, it’s the mission. And, no, Bucky has no reason to feel such vile hatred for the target in any sense other than the professional one. But for some reason, he finds himself wanting to dismember any part of the man that graces your body where he hasn’t yet.

Yet?

Yet.

~~~

“Who’s this, darling?”

You bristle as you feel a breath of air pass your ear before the deep timbre of Bucky's voice even registers in your mind. You whip around to look at him, an expression of anger and bewilderment replacing the flirtatious grin you were just donning. You look back to the target, trying to mask your surprise.

“Honey,” you manage to say through gritted teeth, “I didn’t even see you come over.”

You pull your hands from the target's grasp, nearly cringing at the moist feeling left behind on your skin. You feel Bucky’s firm hold replace Mr. Beaumont’s slimy touch, and your body reacts all too positively. You lean back hardly at all, but it’s enough to feel his chest rigid against you. Was he standing too close or were you too eager? There was no way to be sure, but one thing you could be sure of was the fact that neither of you shied from the contact.

“Hmm,” he hummed lowly, a disapproving air oozing from the short sound, “when you never brought our drinks over, I got curious as to where you’d disappeared to.”

His eyes shift from the side of your face to the man across from you, who grows increasingly uneasy at the sight of your tall and broad ‘husband’. Bucky leans down close, so close that his lips brush against the curve of your ear and you hope he can’t hear your blood rushing in your head.

“I’ll ask again, who is this?”

You’re not sure if it's what he says, or the way he says it, but his words send a wave of arousal through your body. Suddenly, the too-tiny dress feels too hot and you’ve nearly forgotten his question. That is until he quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head expectantly. You clear your throat and look back to a flustered target, presumably intimidated by your colleague.

“This,” you reply before turning back to the sweaty man, “is Mr. Beaumont. He owns a software company and..”

You turn to the target, a ditsy smile on your lips as you try to recover your role, “what else did you do? I forget.”

He laughs nervously, shifting on his bar stool to make himself appear taller. Still pitiful in comparison to the man currently staring daggers at him over your shoulder. “I develop software and coding for various companies and organizations to use where they deem fit.”

Another low hum sounds from Bucky’s throat as he lifts his head from your ear, he meets Mr. Beaumont's eyes and sighs.

“Very impressive, Mr. B,” he says condescendingly. You frown, peeking over at him. What is he doing? This was not a part of the plan, “so you must be a smart man?”

The man in question smiles smugly and nods. “I’d think so, yes.”

“Well then, pray tell, why have you been feeling up my wife,” he asks coolly, Bucky’s turn to look smug. You, on the other hand, whip around to stare at him with an irate expression. He looks down at you with a matching frown, hardly able to mask his irritation, “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle you later.”

You’d like to think you were subtle in your shock, in the way his words leave you flustered. You had no idea Bucky could smell the wave of arousal that flooded your panties, or that he could hear the beat of your heart like a snare drum. Neither of you even noticed the target’s pitiful stuttering, too caught up in the most sexually charged staring contest ever.

~~~

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hiss quietly, walking ahead of him to the car with steam practically flooding out of your ears, “I mean, what the actual fuck!”

You don’t wait for him to catch up before you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind you. You didn’t care for appearances, your mission having been sabotaged by your own partner. What appearances did you have left to keep up?

He gets into the driver's seat a few moments later, pulling his gloves off with a sigh before running his flesh hand over his face.

“Are you done?”

“No,” you snap, turning to face him, “I’m not. You have the audacity to call me reckless, but you go and pull a stunt like that? I had it under control.” Your cheeks are red with irritation and your hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, but he’s too caught up with thinking what else would have you looking so flushed.

“If you’d just shut up and listen-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I was getting the intel,” you’re practically ranting now, “and you just had to swoop in. And for what? To be all macho? To fluster me?”

The scowl on his lips that once matched yours turns into a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at him. Why are you looking at his lips? And why can’t you pull your gaze away from them? “What? What now,” you ask with a huff.

“You really need to learn when to stop talking,” he mutters, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he tries to wipe the smug smile from his face, “y’know that?”

You’re startled by his words, the flush on your cheeks no longer caused by his irritating actions but by his shocking words. Your eyes travel over him shamelessly, ready to jeopardize everything just to get rid of the tension that has lingered and grown exponentially over the course of the evening.

“Then why don’t you shut me up,” you ask softly, your tone opposite to the defiant one you’d held only moments ago. Judging by the minuscule way his eyes widen and the way his lips part around a sharp inhale, you’d be safe to guess he’d beat you to the idea.

You aren’t sure who moved forward first, or even if you’d moved at all. All you can be sure of is the feeling of Bucky Barnes kissing you like he’d never have the privilege again. 

Your lips move feverishly against his own, the car filled with quiet pants and sloppy smacking. His hands tangle in your hair and he tugs you away from him, his expression turning stern when you whine petulantly. “Did you know you were a fucking brat tonight,” he asks lowly, his stare hard. You swallow thickly, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“I was not,” you rebut, your brows furrowing and your lips turning down in a pout. He didn’t like that.

“You were,” he chides coolly, releasing his grip on your hair and sighing, “especially after we walked back to the car. You never even let me explain why I stopped you.”

You would like to focus on his words, but you’re too worried about the way his metal fingers nimbly undo the buckle of his belt. Silence sweeps over the car, the only sound being your shaky breath and the clank of metal on metal.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he continues, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Quietly.” You’re salivating as he tugs the zipper of his dress pants down, allowing the tent in his boxers some much-needed reprieve. “You know why you’re gonna be quiet?”

“Why,” you ask in a breathless whisper, only just now meeting his eyes again. 

“Because your mouth is gonna be full."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #reader insert #smut

[angelltheninth]

Orc War Chief Breeds You in Public

Pairing: Male!Orc x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, public sex, orc mating rituals, size difference, dirty talk, size kink

A/N: When I get in the mod like this I know my period is close. It's my breeding senses tingling.

Everyone's eyes were on you but yours were on the big orc in front of you, the one sitting on his makeshift throne and smirking as he watched your naked self approach him. He extended his giant hand to you, waiting for you to take it before he pulled you onto his lap, his hard, long, girthy cock pressing against your stomach. You knew it would happen like this, the mating ceremony between you and your new husband.

"Don't look so scared. None of my men will lay a finger on you. You are under my protection and care. Mine and mine alone. My woman. Understood? For as long as I live no other man, orc or otherwise will touch you. I swear on my sword and my tusks."

His words reassured you, at least your heart but your body was still preparing for what was gonna happen. His cock wasn't that huge but he was really girthy and fat, far bigger then any human man you were with. Knowing that something that big was meant to fit inside of you filled you with both excitement and fear.

"You will fit on my cock perfectly. You're far from the first human woman that's been on the receiving end of an orc cock. They all walk away very satisfied, if they can walk at all. I'll make sure your cunt gets the best orgasm it's had yet."

Even though his size was intimidating it also felt good, almost heavenly to have that much inside of you. Your pussy needed time to adjust to the girth but once it fully entered you. His smirk made your ears burn, as did the chuckles of the others when your hips moved on their own. You tried to hide your face but he grabbed your tiny wrists and held them behind your back while rocking his body into yours.

"There's no use in trying to hide now. You've already shown everyone here how much you like my cock. Nothing to be scared of here, you can be as slutty as your body desires. It's what you were made for after all. To take orc dick and cum."

You could hear how the other orcs began stroking their cocks, throwing in their own words at you. They were watching you and getting horny. All because of you. Your new orc husband growled in appreciation when your pussy started clenching around his cock, your moans getting louder, bolder.

"Your pussy wants it right? It wants my cum. You'll have to make sure to milk me dry like a good mate. Otherwise my seed won't take and we'll have to do this again. I might bring a few other women so they can show you how it's done. Ah, what's this? Clenching around me like that? What a possessive woman."

Possessive might have not been the exact word you would use. Greedy maybe. Cause right now you were the one his cock was hard for, you were the one who was gonna make him come in front of all his men, you were the one whose womb was gonna get all of his fertile, creamy seed.

"Really want it now. Yes, that's it, good girl. Keep riding me, take what's yours, my whole load. Take it and give me a child. You'll look divine walking around with a swollen, big belly and breasts heavy, ready to feed them when they're born."

#monster x reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monsterfucking #monster lover #orc x reader #orc x human #monster imagine #monster x human #monster x girl #monster smut #orc smut #orc boyfriend #monster fic #terato

[tender-rosiey]

Since your requests are open I'll help myself 😋 Gojo's wife starts to have morning sicknesses, so she suspects that she's pregnant. She takes a test and finds out that she actually is pregnant. Would u please write gojo's reaction when his wife tells his that he's gonna be a daddy? 🥺💕 thanks you, please feed us with your delicious writing!!!

Also if you're not feeling well then please ignore this. Take care! Mwah^•^♡

weight — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I hope you like this, luv 🥺💕 thank you so much for your kind words and take care of yourself as well! many kisses and hugs 🫶

“shoko, I need a place to hide!” you say, bursting into the infirmary. you take the small moment of shock that shoko is in to take a much needed breath.

“what did you do this time?”

you wordlessly raise the pregnancy test with slightly shaky hands and upon seeing it, shoko drops the poor sandwich she was eating. you close the door behind you before sitting down next her.

she smiles, “nice, I am going to be an aunt,” then she looks at you confused, “why are you hiding though?”

“I need time to figure out how I will tell him or more like—“ you look at the ceiling, “face him. he will probably figure everything out with his six eyes, but I don’t know how he will react,” you wrap your arms around yourself and shoko sighs.

“you guys didn’t talk about it yet?” she stands up and goes to get you a warm drink.

you gently rock yourself, “satoru already…has so much on his shoulders,” you bury your face in your arms, “I don’t want to add to that.”

she places the mug in front of you, “you do know that he got into this relationship willingly, right? you didn’t hold him at gunpoint or anything…or did you?”

you lightly punch her shoulders, but you take the mug, muttering a small thanks, “if anyone was held at gunpoint then it would be me.”

shoko chuckles and pats your head, “you need to be able to face him, y/n. he will find out anyway, and personally, I think you should have faith in his reaction more than that,” you lock eyes, “you know him more than anyone else, after all.”

your gaze falls to your drink. its surface is so still until you softly blow and it ripples, calm the chaos.

what if you don’t know satoru as much as you thought? what if having a kid will scare him away?  as the strongest, your husband has so much on his mind 24/7. will he be able to handle a baby as well?

while a part of you tells you that your husband is no coward nor is he so fragile, the other can’t help but think that perhaps this love story of 12 years will reach its end, a very tragic end even.

with the creation of a new life, ends a lifetime of feelings and events.

you snap out of your thoughts when you notice shoko shooing you into the closet room.

you hear the door open and you have a guess who it is. he makes himself known anyway, “shoko,  have you seen y/n?”

shoko quirks an eyebrow and gojo huffs, “okay, fine, I know she is here, but is she mad at me? did I do something?”

you have a feeling that he is looking directly at your eyes even through the closet’s door as he speaks, “y/n, I will take you out anywhere. I don’t know what I did, but let me make it up to you. I hate when you’re upset with me, sweets.”

he is frowning lightly as he stares at the closet with hope. shoko sighs before walking out of the room, but not without patting his shoulder.

the door closes and satoru speaks up again, “can you please come out so we can at least talk about it?”

he hears your sigh and beams when you finally get out of the room, “there is my pretty girl.”

he has a flower bouquet in hand and he is looking at you so intently, but you don’t think he noticed the life growing inside of you now. he is far too focused on making you forgive him for whatever he did. you take a deep breath and look him in the eyes.

your hand moves and finally rests on your stomach.

his brows furrow lightly before his eyes widen. satoru’s breath hitches just like it did during your wedding. he places the bouquet aside before looking quickly between your eyes and stomach, “you are…”

you grip your own hands, nodding. tears start forming in your eyes till they finally fall and cries are what he sees now. your knees give out on you and you fall to the ground, now sobbing.

you are looking at the ground as you cry and hug yourself tighter, bracing yourself for whatever is coming.

satoru, almost instantly, finds himself on his knees in front of you.

his arms, like it’s second nature, pull you close into a warm and secure hug, “hey, hey,” he pats your back, a little clumsily, “if you don’t want it then it’s fine. you know I care about you the most,” his voice shakes a bit, “don’t cry please, you’re breaking my heart—“

“I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry,” you repeat a mantra of the same phrase as you pull him even closer. satoru cups your face and the moment you’re met with the pair of blue eyes you love so much, you break down more, “I know you—probably don’t want it but—“

he tilts his head, utterly confused and maybe even offended, “what are you talking about? of course, I want it!”

the room is silent for a moment as you process what he says. it’s like a massive weight has been lifted off your shoulders. you let out a shaky breath as you look down at your hands.

satoru rests his forehead on your own. his voice is soft and barely above a whisper as he speaks, “it’s our baby.”

the content smile on his face is almost unreal, “why in the world would you think that I wouldn’t want it anyway?” and somehow the pout on his face assures you even more.

your arms wrap themselves around his torso and you rest your head on his shoulder, “it’s just—I thought it would be burdening you with yet another responsibility. you have the world on top of your shoulders. how am I better than anyone if I weigh down even if it’s a different type of weight.”

“is it a weight for you?” he asks, voice hushed.

“of course not! I want—“ you answer immediately.

“there is your answer,” he chuckles and you look at his face once again.

you notice that he is tearing up. your satoru is tearing up, and the blindfold isn’t there to hide it nor are the glasses.

his eyes never leave yours as he says, with no waver on his voice, “I would pick you over everything else, every single time and in every single universe, silly girl.”

“you should know that already,” he flicks your forehead but the smile never leaves his face.

a soft laugh tumbles out of his lips as he pulls you in for a big bear hug, his form completely engulfing your own.

he fills tears stain his shirt, but he can only focus on your smile he feels on his skin and the fact that he voice out loud, “I will be a dad,” he sighs with contentment.

“and it’s all because of you,” he raises your face and nuzzles your noses together making you giggle, “we're going to be parents, you sweet pretty thing.”

satoru’s lips find themselves on your own in one very sweet and loving kiss. it’s soft, light, and gentle. yet it conveys all the words that he can’t get out at the moment.

when you pull away slightly, he quickly pulls you back for another, “I love you so much.”

he places a hand on your stomach, “and you too.”

“but don’t think I will share mama with you,” he sticks his tongue out at it, “she is mine!”

the baby is not even out of the womb, and yet he is already bickering with it.

you laugh and your chest feel so light. you kiss his cheek and his pout turns into a grin almost immediately. you hum, “infinity and beyond?”

his hand holds your own and he caresses your ring, “infinity and beyond.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @jisbizarre @kunikida-simp @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo x you #jjk gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru imagine

[pseudowho]

The Widow's Keeper

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Marrying again after losing your husband in Shibuya was never part of your plan. Then, Higuruma Hiromi came along.

Warnings: Character death, grief, angst, fluff

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A hysterical shriek-- a frantic cry for a man long dead-- rang through the bedroom, enveloped in the dark warmth of night, and broke down into anguished sobs. A soft shout of alarm, and hurried reassurances, sobs muffled, hands stroking, soothing, kisses on foreheads.

Hiromi held you to his chest, his pyjama top damp with your tears, his eyes gritty from sudden wakefulness. You cried away your grief, still so raw, replaying over and over in your dreams-- taunting you with 'what if's and 'if only's. Hiromi's nose nuzzled into your hair, both arms tightly holding you lest you fall apart against him, mumbling his sweet love in humid little breaths to your head.

It had been a while since you had dreamed of Nanami Kento, he pondered, rocking you gently from side-to-side. Dead and buried for almost 4 years now, Hiromi had married you and your trauma, your loss, your fallen love. He had taken you as the package you were, a complex parcel, and the mother of the second love of his life.

Little footsteps approached the door; little hands, cautious against the cool wood, pushed it open with a squeak.

"Mummy? Daddy? Is it a bad dream? You woke me up," grumbled your little girl, blonde and brown-eyed, with sharp delicate features. You sat up hurriedly, wiping your eyes and plastering on a damp smile. As you began moving to get out of bed, Hiromi laid a gentle hand on your thigh, kissing you on the temple.

"I'll take it from here," he hushed, and you sniffled, threatening tears again, "go back to sleep. I love you."

Planting a watery kiss to Hiromi's lips, you laid down in bed, burrowing your nose into his pillow, his smell, always feeling your adoration for him with the sting of guilt.

Hiromi scooted to the door, his loud shuffling footsteps pretending to be sneaky as he scooped his daughter up in his arms, nosing at her with deliberate snuffles. She giggled, batting him away, capturing his face in her little hands, slanted eyes narrow and delighted.

"Back to bed, little one. Your teddies can't sleep without you." Hiromi's playful bargaining wasn't needed, his daughter half-asleep in his arms already, while her arms wound around his neck to snuggle her head under his chin. By the time he had tucked her back into bed, she breathed soft snores, her bed still warm from the nest she had made.

Hiromi crouched by your daughter's bed, watching her, committing all of her features to memory; never this small, ever again, he thought, bittersweet as she grew, blooming. He stroked her hair, nursing the stale guilt of feeling he had stolen this life from another man, and feeling so deeply undeserving, so ashamed because of it.

While Hiromi knew his daughter-- your daughter, Kento's daughter-- more than Kento ever would, there felt to be an impenetrable wall to his love, an absence of a blood bond, stolen away from a man who did not want to leave his wife, and had not even known he was to become a father. Hiromi felt responsible, as if he had spirited you both away himself. He did not deserve to hold you through your grief; he did not deserve to be daddy.

Planting a last kiss to his daughter's forehead, a long-fingered hand stroking blond flicks out of her eyes, Hiromi tiptoed to the door. He hesitated for a moment, then tiptoed back. A brown teddy with its familiar, well-fiddled-with and far-too-large-for-teddies yellow leopard-spotted tie, belonged in his daughters' arms, and not on the floor.

Padding back to your bedroom, a thief in the night, the sheets played a gentle susurrus over your bodies as Hiromi tangled his legs through yours, lying on his back so you could tuck across his chest. You slipped a hand under his t-shirt, travelling up to his chest to stroke its patch of downy black hair. Hiromi's fingers tangled through your hair, examining the whorls of your ear, rolling your earlobe in thought.

"I'm so sorry," you hiccuped into Hiromi's chest, and you heaved with sobs when his reassurance began before you had even finished apologising, his arms tightening around you. He cupped your face in his hands, tilting it, look at me, come on darling, please, look at me.

Hiromi held your face, your cheeks squashed and blotchy with tears in his palms. He felt a trickle of disgust with himself run down his throat, as he stole his role as your hero from Kento, "None of that. You know you don't have to apologise for anything--"

"But I love him," you sobbed, voice cracking with devastated guilt, feeling like a filthy liar, a cheater, a bigamist, "I love him so much and I want him back, but I want you, Hiro, I-- I--" Hiromi nodded, still gazing into you, hooded dark eyes like little embers in the night. You felt a surge of appreciative, grateful love as he drank down your proclamations of love for another man, and wanted you anyway.

"If it were the other way round," Hiromi started, slow and deliberate, "if it were me who had died, and Kento loved you after...I would trust him completely to carry the torch for me. To give you two everything that I wouldn't be able to give."

You wept again, your face and chest aching, loss heavy in your soul. Hiromi kept you close, tethering you, repeating in a tender mantra; "You can love us both. You can love us both, because we both love you. You can love us both."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I...I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Hiromi's words fell weakly, unanswered by the dead. Nanami Kento's grave was pristine under the hands of his many friends, his lover, his students, those he had saved. He was popular in death as he had been in life; not inundated with true friends, but awash with bannermen and admirers, those who aspired to be like him, and those who aspired to be liked by him. An admission of guilt writhed in Hiromi's chest, bursting out in one strained cry.

"I can't feel sad that you died," Hiromi spat, disgusted not with Kento, but with himself, "because if you hadn't died, I wouldn't have them, and I'm a real piece of shit--"

"No you're not," a friendly voice drawled to Hiromi's left. Hiromi froze, eyes wide and paralyzed, dread creeping through him that someone had heard his biggest shame--

"-- and Nanami wouldn't have thought so, either. I bet she was the last thing he thought about-- worrying about her, who would look after her. He'd be happy. For her to have a good man. Like you."

Ino Takuma leaned down beside Hiromi, speaking a brief prayer above Kento, a wrapped, spotted blunt blade harnessed onto his back. Placing some fresh flowers down, he stood up again.

Hiromi and Ino were silent together amongst the rustling willows, the smooth dappling sunlight, the whispering babble of the shallow river. Ino rocked on his heels, smiling, hands pocketed. Hiromi hung his head in shame.

"You can...you can feel both, Higuruma. Regret for him dying and leaving her, and...and loving her, I guess. You're not a bad person. I bet she beats herself up for marrying again, right?"

Hiromi swallowed, nodding quickly after a breath's pause. Images flitted across his mind-- you, resplendent in your gown. Your daughter, so solemn on her big day, scattering petals down the aisle. Your earnest kiss, your joyful dancing, your gracious speech. Your wedding night breakdown, holding you in a hot bath in innocent intimacy, folding your lingerie away in favour of a soft nightdress, nothing expected, nothing lost, in life and in death, in sickness and in health.

"You've just...you've just got to be his wingman, y'know?" Ino stated, arms crossed up behind his balaclava'd head, "You and Nanami...you're both her husband. You're both my niece's dad. So big him up a bit for us, huh?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Hey, dad?"

Hiromi leaned round the fridge door, crows feet crinkling around his eyes as he popped a cube of cheese into his mouth, busted.

His daughter smirked at him, fine eyebrows raised under a smooth honey-blonde fringe. As tall as Hiromi, leggy and sarcastic, Hiromi didn't so much tell this young woman off now, as get savagely roasted by her dry wit. Hiromi took it with all of the frustrated joy of a father trying to parent a young woman with unparentably excellent traits.

"Cheese?" Hiromi offered, flicking a cube deftly at his daughter. She caught it, seamlessly, eyes narrowing at him. For all the bravado she was putting on, Hiromi knew she was putting it on. He headed over, pulling her to him with one arm, blonde head against black-grey head.

"Penny for them?"

She sighed, and began: "Did you...meet him?"

Him. Ah.

"I did not," Hiromi admitted, "but I know he was exceptional. Your mother has wonderful taste." He accepted the slap to his arm, well-deserved.

"I can never...I don't think I'll ever be as good as him." Hiromi's heart swelled and ached for his daughter; he felt an odd kinship, one of them in such a powerful shadow, one of them in such enormous shoes. Hiromi nodded, his throat thick.

"You're right," he said, his daughter's lips puckering up in grim acceptance, looking at the floor, "your dad was a hero. He protected the weak when nobody else wanted to. He took on the messy jobs with nothing more than a glass of whiskey and your mum's love behind him. He was funny, kind, patient, empathetic... he was the best of the best. The best sort of man. He's a legend even now."

"So, no, sweetheart, you're never going to be as good as him," Hiromi turned to his daughter, cupping her high-cheeked face in his hands, pressing her to look at him, "you're going to be better. You have all three of us in you, and you carry it so well."

Hiromi's daughter let out a dry sob, refusing to let tears fall. She sniffled, pulling close to Hiromi, letting herself be held. Rubbing her nose and pulling her hair behind one ear, she reached behind her onto a chair, revealing a black, rectangular handled case.

"Uncle Ino gave me something, today," she started, unclipping the case, "he said it was dad's. I thought I...I want to use it. Like he did."

Hiromi gazed fondly down at the blade of legends, white wrapping yellowed at the edges with age, but still just as deadly. He smiled, and your daughter relaxed into his wordless reassurance.

"Yes. Absolutely. It's the only...you're the only one who could do this old thing justice, now," Hiromi pressed, eager to hold Kento and his child together across the impenetrable veil of death, "but I have to warn you."

His daughter glanced to Hiromi, anxious. He took a deep breath, and continued;

"Your mother will cry when she sees this."

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A few tears slipped out while I wrote this.

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #jjk fluff #higuruma hiromi x reader #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #hiromi hiromi hiromi #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #jjk higuruma #higuruma #higuruma angst #higuruma fluff

[kookslastbutton]

Baby Maker ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: You're pissed at your husband for being late to your weekly baby-making sessions.

Pairing: husband!taehyung x fem!reader

AU/genre: pwp, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,473

Warnings: light fighting, hard dom!taehyung, slight brat sub!reader, make up s*x, rough s*x, manhandling, bl*wjob, teasing, b**b groping, degradation (taehyung calls reader a sl*t), impreg k*nk, f*replay, penetration, r*ding, d*ggy, d*rty talk, d*ck slapping, taehyung refers to himself as daddy, mention of aftercare, trouble taking off lingerie bc yeah it be a whole process sometimes.

A/N: seeing Taehyung on esquire...you cannot tell me he doesn't look good omg 🙈 anyway this is filthy sooo I'm going to rock myself to sleep now bc i work on the moring, pls enjoy 💞

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean to be late. I'm sorry."

Taehyung stands in front of you with pleading eyes. He tries not to drop his gaze below your neck, seeing that you're more than pissed at him for getting home nearly an hour later than planned. He feels bad about it, he really does. But he can also easily see his favorite fiery red lingerie peeking out of your silky robe, making him all the more eager to show you how he can make it up to you.

"Well that's too bad Taehyung because I'm not in the mood anymore." You tighten your arms across your chest and stand your ground. If your husband didn't look like sex on legs all the time this would be a lot easier nevertheless, he will not be getting his dick sucked tonight.

"Are you kidding?" He gives you a 'really' look before reaching for one of your wrists. "You're always in the mood for baby making. Been in the mood for months. Come on sweetheart, how many times do I need to tell you I'm sorry? Let me make it up to you."

"No." You swiftly pull away from him. "I'm showering and then going to bed." You head over to your dresser to grab a pair of pajamas to change into. Are you being petty? Maybe. But you and Taehyung have been trying for a baby over the past two weeks. So him being late tonight just feels like he isn't taking any of it seriously.

"Don't even think about trying to come in here," you spit, moving to close the door of the master bathroom. Taehyung gives a small sigh before stopping the door with his hands. Your eyes avert to the motion immediately—damn his fingers for being so long and sleek.

"Baby I know I shouldn't have been late, and I know you're horny but aren't we being the tiniest bit stubborn here?"

"What the hell did you say?" You can't believe your ears. "You think this is me just being stubborn and horny? No, this is me-, you pause, scrambling for words. "I'm punishing you!" You point at him accusingly.

"Punishing me by withholding sex? From being an hour late tonight? I get it baby, I do but is that what you really want? To take a shower, then go to sleep." He pushes his way through the door and walks up to you until he's towering over you. His warm blonde locks drape over his eyes— you know how soft they feel in your hands. "Or," his deep honeyed voice teases near your ear as he tugs on one of your robe's straps. "Do you want to take off this useless piece of material and I'll show you how sorry I am?" He sets his hands on your hips, tracing down the fabric of your robe. "I'll let you ride me," he husks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself at him. It's not every night that you're allowed to top with a husband as alpha as Taehyung in the bed. And the way his hands are moving so sensually up and down your sides is making you shudder with arousal.

"Fuck you. Fuck you to the moon and back Taehyung."

"Great, let's start that tonight." Taehyung takes it as a go and you pound on his back with your fists when you feel your whole body being slung over his shoulder. He plops you on the bed within seconds and crawls up to you in a straddling position—thighs on either side of your waist. "I swear to god __, our baby better not inherent this stubborn streak of yours." He starts untying the knot of your robe and prys the material open to slip down your shoulders.

"What baby?" You sit up a little to let him remove it. "The only baby you seem to be making is with Park Jimin. You were at his house all day. Or was it Jungkook? Did you have a threesome with them?"

"For fucksake, no I wasn't having a threesome with those idiots who can't even get their dicks out of their pants." He tosses the robe to the side, cock swelling at the sight of you underneath him in lacey red lingerie and black lace garters—this he did not see before. "And I'm not into Jimin, he's too into his porno films. Now enough whining. I said I was sorry."

"You were watching porn with Jimin?!" Your eyes go large as saucers. Apparently, that's all you heard. Taehyung lets out a throaty growl, more than fed up with your attitude tonight.

"No I wasn't! Stop it. I wasn't fucking or watching people fuck." He holds your wrists down on the mattress to keep you from moving about. "You get so goddamn needy. I didn't realize you could get this horny."

"I told you its not about—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you." Taehyung presses his mouth against yours, biting your lower lip like a sin. You squirm underneath his hold but end up moaning when he slips his tongue into the small crease between your lips.

"Taehyung," you let out a breathy gasp when you feel his fully hardened cock brush against your center. Not much else gets to come out after that as Taehyung continues to lick every corner of your mouth, toying with your tongue at the same time.

It's when he finally breaks from your lips to trace wet kisses along the curve of your neck that you can catch your breath again. His firm hold on your wrists also loosen, but you know exactly where they're moving next.

"Did you really expect me to believe you'd put on my favorite lingerie with these godforsaken garters only to not have your brains completely fucked tonight?" He squeezes your breasts and rolls his thumbs around your nipples, feeling them harden with the friction.

You choose to remain silent this time, slightest smirk on your face which no doubt irritates your husband to no end.

"Don't want to say anything anymore Mrs. Kim?" He fiddles with the front of your bra, specifically the tiny hook that's holding the cups together. "Nothing at all? Just gonna lay there and stare at me with those beautiful lusty eyes?"

"You know I was feeling really guilty earlier," Taehyung rasps, leaning back to throw his shirt over his head. "I was afraid you were actually mad at me and at first I think you were. But..." He reaches to unbuckle his belt. "Now you're just acting like a brat to tick me off."

You bite down a whimper when his cock bounces free, practically throbbing to be inside something. You've taken Taehyung many times with tears streaming down your face, each round reminding you of his massive size.

"Fuck," he groans as he takes himself in his palm. "If you want to be treated like a brat so much then it's your lucky day." He straddles your sides again, the head of his cock falling proudly in front of your lips. "Open," he demands, but you bite your lip; feigning innocence.

Your husband is not impressed, however. "Quit acting like you've never seen cock before," he barks. "You're the furthest thing from a virgin so open up."

Rude, you think before slowly sticking your tongue out until it touches the slit of his cock. You know it'll piss him off but you decide it's fun to keep swirling around the sensitive area, collecting the pre-cum dripping out.

"Shit, don't." Your husband groans and screws his eyes shut to keep himself from coming early.

You should take this as a warning but you're far too pleased of yourself so you continue teasing him, making sure a few purposeful moans slip out as you lick around his tan tip.

"Fuck I'm gonna blow my load in ten seconds if you don't stop. Baby, stop."

You ignore your husband's pleas and wrap your lips around the head of his length, sucking it with determination. As if to counter the filthy action you sparkle your eyes up into his dark ones. You make them as big as you can. Anytime now and he'll-

"I said stop you fucking slut!" The words are barked at you without warning. Taehyung takes his cock from you and slaps it across your cheek. A very sticky substance smears on your face. "Now, get my dick wet or nothing's going into that slutty little cunt."

You widen your mouth to take him deeper at his threat but it's too slow—or Taehyung's too impatient. Either way, his thick length shoves to the back of your throat and starts running in and out of your mouth with a vengeance. You choke at the intensity of each thrust, vision blurring due to the tears building.

"Is it too much sweetheart?' He provokes, beads of sweat line his forehead and a vein threatens to pop from his neck any second. "Too big for your pretty mouth to handle?"

You feel yourself clench as the heavy weight of his length glides faster on your tongue. The anticipation of his release is killing you and though you can't speak, right now, you want your husband to make you look like such a messy whore that his come fills your mouth and spills down your tits. Then you want him to flip you over, prop your ass up, and fuck you until burning hot sensation courses through your body.

While in thought, Taehyung takes the opportunity to slip himself out of your mouth. A string of spit can't help but follow with it.

"But—"

"It's plenty wet now," Taehyung smirks at your obvious distress. He moves to take your panties and garter off next. "Fuck," he swears in frustration. "How do you get this off dammit?" You help him wiggle yourself out of the contraption (which ends up taking a good five or six minutes).

As soon as the lace fabric is discarded, you find yourself quickly being lifted on his hardened member. Taehyung makes sure you're well-supported before roughly thrusting up into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce to the rhythm he sets, tempting him to go faster.

"I promised I'd let you ride me didn't I?"

"Not—what I—had in mind," you pant. "Fuck, Taehyung you're always so fucking big—ah!" You grip his shoulders when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot.

"Good to see you've found your voice again baby. I was beginning to think you were going to give me the silent treatment this whole night."

"Shut—ah shit—yes, Taehyung, right there! Faster, fuck!" You moan, too caught up in the way his cock is making you feel to care about talking back.

"What a filthy mouth on you Mrs. Kim. No one taught you any manners?" He darts his tongue out to gently graze across a nipple. At the action, you start moving with his thrusts; meeting them in sync.

"So good Taehyung." Your eyes flutter shut. "If this doesn't get me pregnant then—"

You squeal when you're suddenly thrown off his cock and turned on your stomach. With your ass positioned nice and high in the air, your husband can see every trace of your arousal.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart." His cock pushes back into your pussy, teeth nipping at your ear ever so gently but enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Daddy's definitely gonna make you a mommy tonight."

Taehyung caves over you to fully cover your back before picking up the same pace as before. "You want my cum baby?" He grunts. "Want me to fill you up and make you round with my child?"

"Yes-yes." You grip the sheets underneath you for leverage. "Want you to put a baby in me Taehyung."

"Fuck—say that again." He growls and continues snapping his hips. The sound of skin slapping on skin is so lewd but you and Taehyung can't be bothered by the noise when you're breathing so heavily in each other's ear.

"I want you to put a baby in me Tae."

"Louder."

"I want—," you struggle to repeat the words when you feel your walls tighten around his length. Your stomach churns too and the way his cock fucks in you gets seemingly harder to take.

"Close baby?"

"Mm." You barely respond, too focused on getting to your high.

"And to think you were simply going to shower and sleep tonight." He circles back to your earlier argument with the cockiest smirk on his face but it's wiped off as quick as it came when you start grinding your hips to meet his thrusts.

"That's it," Taehyung clenches his teeth. "Get yourself off—holy fuck you feel so goddamn tight around me."

"I'm—I'm coming!" Once the cord snaps in you, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Ropes of your cum drip over your husband's length, covering it completely, and down part of your inner thigh. Taehyung's cock twitches in response and his breaths turn into aggressive pants as he starts chasing after his own release.

"Shit baby, shit! I'm so fucking close. Gonna breed this pussy, tell me you want it one more time baby."

"Mm, yes, want it so bad," you let out a strained moan. "Come in me—ah daddy!" His length reaches a little further this time, making you yelp.

"Shit, you okay baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Keep moving. It just surprised me."

"If I go too hard, tell me okay?" You respond with the loudest 'mhm' you can.

After a few more broken groans and profanities your husband finally finishes with his cum painting your walls less than thirty seconds later.

A long sigh of relief leaves both your lips when you roll over on your backs—sweaty, sore, and satisfied.

"Wasn't expecting you to call me daddy in bed." Taehyung lazily hovers near your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You allow his tongue to slip in for a minute before shoving him off.

"Don't get used to it, mister. And don't ever slap me with your dick again. I'm all sticky."

"I'm sorry, do you want me to draw you a bath?"

"You best believe I do."

"Yes ma'am." Taehyung goes to get up but he falls back down. "Can you give me like ten minutes first? We went a little hard tonight, I can't really feel my dick."

"You sure about that?" You reach over to gently grip his length.

"Shit—hurts baby."

"Sorry." You grin, not sorry at all. "I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning."

Taehyung looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you kidding? It'll be fine by the time I get you in the bath."

A/n: ...goodnight 😇

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagines #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #fic:babymaker #kookslastbutton

[cntloup]

Fem!Reader angst, hurt/comfort, mention of miscarriage

"I might be pregnant." you mumble nervously to your husband, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding his gaze. You didn't get your period and you've been sick every morning the past week. "Dove, did you check to make sure?" Simon asks, starting to feel excited but the heavy weight on his chest doesn't let him. "No, we don't have any baby checks." you reply, head still hanging low, "I-I'll g-go to the drugstore now." he stutters, excitement mixed with gloom, not really knowing how to feel, "Are you gonna be ok while I'm gone?" he asks with worry, "Yeah." you reply weakly. He places a kiss on your forehead, nuzzling the soft skin of your cheeks, his touch lingering, "I'll be ok, Si." you reassure him. He leans in to kiss you, eyes filled with concern locked onto yours for a moment before heading out the door.

The moment he walks out, you see the dark clouds looming over you and feel the familiar tingle in the back of your eyes. Soon after, you break into sobs, overwhelmed by all the emotions prancing around and shifting through you. You've been trying to have a baby for a while now, but unfortunately fate had something else in store for you. You've already gone through two miscarriages. You thought that life was playing a sick, twisted game with you. The wish to have a child and not being able to fulfill that, had your mental health in shambles. But he was beside you every step of the way. He held you tightly in his embrace as you sobbed your heart out. He reassured you that it's ok if you can never have children. He was your rock. Always. But you still felt it deep in your heart that there might be something wrong with you. And that led you to always feel this little tingle of guilt inside and blame yourself. But he would always put an end to that thought at the mere mention of it. It was not your fault. You felt guilty about putting him through all of this. And him not being able to grieve properly because he has to stay strong for you. You felt as though you were failing him.

All of a sudden, there's a buzzing in your ear and your vision is blurry and you struggle to breathe. As soon as he walks through the door and sets eyes on you bawling uncontrollably and gasping for air, he rushes to your side. "Hey, hey, it's ok, love. Just breathe. Like this." he tries to get your attention, taking deep breaths for you to imitate. You focus on the movements of his lips and chest, finally able to get some air in your lungs. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against him and sways side to side to soothe you, "Shh, lovie. It's ok. I'm right here. You're ok." he coos softly against your temple, placing loving kisses on your skin.

"Simon..." you call out to him, voice weak and shaky. "Yes, love?" he pulls away slightly, his gaze soft and filled with worry. He tucks your hair behind your ear, placing his hand on your cheek, softly wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, "Is there something wrong with me?" you pout, lips quivering and holding back sobs. He's taken aback, "No, lovie. There's nothing wrong with you. It's just something that happens. It's not your fault." he pauses to take a look at you, his beautiful wife, woeful and suffering. His heart aches at this sight of you and tears start to well up in his eyes, "We'll get through this. I promise. If we can't have a child ourselves, we can always adopt." he adds, kind eyes looking into your tear-filled ones. He tries to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, and when you look up at him with a smile, he knows he succeeded, at least to some extent. There's still sorrow in your eyes. You will always grieve the loss of your children. Nothing can erase that. "Yeah, sure! We'll adopt." your smile begins to get wider as you wipe away the tears. "Yeah?" he grins, gently cupping your face in his hands, "Yeah!" you nod, giggling. He stares into your eyes with pure love, leans in and places his lips on yours, kissing you tenderly. "I love you." he murmurs into the kiss, "I love you too, Si."

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #cod modern warfare

[nanaslutt]

Househusband pleasure dom Nananmi :3

contains: fem reader, daddy kink, oral (f!r), fingering, squirting, rough, hair pulling, praise, dirty talk, masturbation(m)

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Househusband!Nanami loves doing the dishes for the both of you after you finish eating the extravagant dinner he made the two of you. He especially loves it when you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, freely groping his chest and abs under his shirt as he scrubs a plate with a sponge. "Mmmm," You hummed against his back, closing your eyes are you relished in the feeling of his rock-solid body. "You okay honey?" He asked in his saccharine-sweet tone, his deep voice seeping into your ears and sending chills down your spine with just a few simple words.

"Yeah.. jus wanna go lay down with you." You confessed, rubbing your cheek against his neck. "I'm almost done with the dishes my love, why don't you go get ready for bed and I'll meet you there?" He replied, smiling at your neediness. "Who said anything about going to sleep?" You retorted, poking your head out on the side of his body to look at his face, a mischievous smile gracing your features, his dark eyes locking onto yours when your pretty face came into view.

--

"Mmm.. such a pretty clit, look at how she's throbbing for me." Your husband cooed. He had you laid out on your back, a stack of pillows under your head to make sure you were as comfortable as possible while Nanami spoiled your cunt. "Nanami.." You blushed, embarrassed at the way he was talking to your pussy like it was a person. He looked back up at you under his lashes, his eyes clouded with lust.

"Don't be shy baby, I see your little hole crying for me, it's okay to like this." He comforted, spreading your folds apart with his fingers so he could get a better view of his second meal. He licked his lips watching your swollen little clit twitch under his gaze before he dragged his eyes back up to yours. "You gonna let daddy take care of you?" He asked the nickname he called himself immediately setting your face on fire.

You nodded while he dropped his head down to your clit, shutting his eyes while he pressed a soft kiss to your clit, making your legs jolt around his shoulders, "Say it, sweet thing." Nanami asked. He needed you to tell him you needed it, needed you to call him that embarrassing nickname he loved so much before he tasted you properly. "Yes.. please daddy." You responded, pulling your lip between your teeth as you felt your face heat up.

"Good girl." Nanami cooed, snaking his hand between your thighs he softly rubbed your clit with his middle finger, watching intently how your cunt reacted. "So fucking cute, barely even touchin' her and she's drooling all over," Nanami whispered, moving his hand away once more to wrap around your thigh again. He hoised you towards him, scooting you down on the bed a couple inches so he had better access to you.

"Kento.. need you." You whined, threading your fingers through his soft hair, pushing his bangs out of his face in the process. He scrunched his eyes together, tilting his head against your thigh as he kept his eyes glued to yours. You knew what you did wrong. "D-daddy, I need you, please touch me." You corrected. A proud smile appeared on his face before you felt a soft kiss be pressed into the skin of your thigh, making goosebumps spread across the skin.

Nanami finally leaned in, kissing your clit sweetly once more while keeping his hooded eyes on yours before he took your clit into his mouth, letting his eyes fall shut. "F-fuuck-" You whined breathlessly, tipping your head back into the soft pillows. "Mmmm.." Nanami hummed against your clit at your reactions. He sucked the little bud between his lips, his tongue meeting your clit between them he poked it and flicked at it with the soft appendage and sending delicious stimulation through your body.

Nanami shook his head back and forth against your wetness, he knew how much you loved when he did that. Your hand dug into his hair, gripping the strands as he ate you out with fervor, his eyebrows scrunching together as he focused on bringing you the most pleasure possible. "Oh my god Na- Daddy fuck- R-right there~" You whined, your chin dropping to your chest so you could watch him work.

The sight immediately sent butterflies fluttering to your stomach. You were so lucky to have such a handsome man as your husband, especially one as handsome as Nanami. His sharp nose rested right above your clit, occasionally touching your folds when he shook his head side to side messily. He pulled his mouth back, the bottom half of his face coated in your wetness as he slid one of his hands under you and started teasing your entrance with a thick finger.

"You want me inside you?" He asked, teasing his finger against your little hole, just barely pressing against it, making your entire body feel like it had been set on fire. Nanami had such a filthy mouth it drove you crazy. "Please daddy please, wanna feel you inside me." You begged, nodding at him, your face plastered with your arousal.

"Keep your eyes on me, don't look away. Wanna watch your face when I put my fingers inside you." He instructed, making you nod hastily at his instruction. He looked down briefly to watch his finger rub along the length of your cunt, the tip of his finger teasing your clit before he dragged it back downwards and caught it on your tight hole, slowly pressing his finger inside you.

He licked his lips, his jaw falling open in a small o as he watched your cunt swallow up his finger easily, getting about halfway in before he looked back up to you. Your expression was the same as his, eyebrows scrunched in pleasure, jaw slack, breathing paused as you took in the feeling of his finger inside you. "Ohhh-mygod~" You wined, fighting the urge to snap your thighs shut around his head.

"Feel good?" He asked, slowly pulling his finger out to the tip before he screwed it back inside you, watching your face intently. You did as he told you, keeping your eyes on his, no matter how bad they wanted to roll back in your head. "Yes-yes fuck-" You wined. "You want more? Want me to fuck you harder? Hmm?" He asked teasingly, starting to curl his finger when he pressed it to the hilt inside you.

Your clit was throbbing with the need to feel his lips wrapped around it again. You nodded, moaning wantonly when he immediately sped up the pace of his finger, fucking you with the single digit roughly, your face screwing itself in pleasure as you looked away. Normally he would've chastized you for not listening to his instruction, but he just wanted to spoil you today.

He hit a sensitive spot inside you, zeroing in on it when he realized it was making you feel extra good, your ankles crossing over his back when he hit it. "This spot feel good? Right here?" He asked, tilting his head at you as he roughly fucked his finger into your g-spot, making you see stars behind your eyelids. "Fuck- yes- right there oh my god-" He was spoiling the hell out of you, and you were eating it up.

He groaned, watching your body jerk and shake at his ministrations. Pulling his finger out to the entrance of your pussy he pressed a second finger in, pressing in faster this time, giving you little time to adjust as he roughly started fingerfucking you. "Oh she's so wet, you hear how loud your pussy is sweetheart? She want my tongue too?" He asked, already knowing your answer.

"L-let me feel your tongue daddy" You begged, your eyes finding his once more as you watched him drop his head down between your legs, sucking your clit back into his warm mouth. Nanami was so hard in his pants, he had steadily been rocking his hips into the bed from the moment he pressed his finger into you, unable to excape his imagination picturing it was his cock inside you instead of his fingers.

Your cunt was dripping around his fingers, your arousal pooling on his hand and down the insides of your thighs, making a mess on the bed. His tongue only made things worse too, he could constantly feel gushes of arousal leaving you from his ministrations. He noticed you had started to squirm around on the sheets more frequently, almost like you were trying to excape his tongue.

"You wanted this right honey? Why are you trying to get away?" He mumbled agaisnt your cunt, his dark eyes watching yours as you thrashed on the bed. "I- I-its so much D-daddy-" You whined between moans. Something was coiling itself deep inside your gut, something more intense than your usual orgasms. Nanami had made you squirt before, but only once, on your honeymoon, you had forgotten what it felt like so your body was trying to excape the unfamiliar feeling now.

"Talk to me." He mumbled, the vibrations from his voice sending delicious stimulation through your cunt, making your eyes cross and roll back in your head. "I- I think I'm gonna squirt-" You rushed between heaves, trying to keep your watery eyes on Nanami to ground yourself from the intense stimulation. You swore he picked up the pace of his fingers against your g-spot when you said that, a long groan spilling from the man between your thighs at your confession.

"Do it." He mumbled into your cunt, trying not to pull away for long so as to not ruin your building orgasm. "I cant fu-ck I cant It feels so-" You were cut off by Nanami's tangling his finger with yours that gripped into the bed sheets. He wanted to tell you it was okay, he was right there just let go, but this would have to do for now. "Okay- o-okay," You stuttered, nodding down at him.

He kept his eyes on you, his insatiable tongue licking at your clit and occasionally dropping down to taste some of your juices that leaked around his fingers. "Daddy I'm cumming-" You cried, digging your nails into his hair and the skin of his hand alike. Nanami groaned feeling you tug at his hair, the sting of your sharp nails sending chills down his spine, his hips humping into the bed harder at the additional feeling.

He was humming into your cunt, encouraging you when you tipped over the edge. Quickly abandoning the hold he had on your hand he pulled his mouth away from your pussy when he felt you start to squirt around him, using his fingers he quickly rubbed back and forth along your clit, side to side, making your cum squirt all over the sheets, some getting on his chest. "Oh good girl, good fucking girl, squirt all over daddy~" He cooed, watching your seemingly neverending orgasm wrack through your body.

He wishes so bad you were cumming around his cock, you squirting was a rare treat after all, it had nothing to do with Nanami's technique really, after all, he was amazing in bed, it was just how your body worked. "Let it out, I got you, doing so well for me." He continued praising, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt as dramatic squelches echoed around the room from how much you were leaking around him.

When your body relaxed against the sheets once more, it signaled to Nanami he needed to stop his ministrations so as to not overstimulate you. He slowly pulled out his fingers, watching how your cunt twitched in the after-shocks as you breathed heavily atop the bed, your arm placed over your eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

Nanami couldn't take it anymore, his cock was throbbing with the need for his release, and the confines of his pants were far too tight and uncomfortable for his linking. He rubbed his hand along your thigh, petting the skin there as he rapidly unzipped his pants, sliding them down just enough to pull his neglected cock out.

"Sorry honey, "I-I'll take care of you in one second I just.. have to cum." Nanami said through heavy pants. Your husband used the hand he had fingered you with; still coated in your juices; to wrap around his cock and start rapidly jerking his cock between your legs, dragging his eyes all over your body as he used the beautiful sight in front of him to get off.

You slid your arm off of your face at his unexpected confession, you thought he was going to fuck you or ask you to suck him off, something at least. The last thing you were expecting to see was His hand rapidly stroking himself, pre leaking from his tip as he stared down at your messy pussy, his mouth agape and eyes scrunched together in pleasure as he got off. "Baby, you could use me," You let him know, wrapping your legs around his thighs and squeezing to emphasize your words.

"D-don't wanna hurt you, you just came so hard.." He groaned, tipping his head back, "This w-wont take long." Nanami was always so thoughtful, but you really wouldn't have minded helping him, after all like he said he did just make you cum an inch from seeing the pearly gates. His eyes were screwed shut as he savored the taste of you on his tongue, using your sweet flavor to push him to the edge.

The sight of your husband jerking off from how aroused he got eating you out sent butterflies fluttering around inside you. "Fuck- fuckkk-" he groaned as the first warm spurts of his cum shot out and landed on your cunt, some of the long ropes hitting the bed sheets below you, and decorating your tummy. You watched with an expression similar to his as his body jerked and shook with his high, pleasures moans falling from his lips as he rode out his orgasm.

His head tipped down when he started to come down, his eyes taking in the mess he just made on your already ruined cunt. He took his softening dick by the base and pressed it against your folds, smearing his cum around your pussy, creating lewd wet sounds to echo into your ears. "So pretty." He whispered under his breath, pressing the head of his dick to your clit, making them kiss.

You giggled at his infatuation with your cunt, your hand coming up to pet the side of his face, snapping him out of his trance. "Let's get cleaned up." You suggested, watching him smile and nod before he leaned down to kiss your lips, mumbling against them how much he loved you.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami fluff #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami x you #nanami kento #nanamin #nanami x reader #kento x you #kento x y/n #jjk kento #kento smut #kento x reader #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #gojo smut #geto smut

[joonsytip]

Withering for You || Seungcheol- Part 3

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): suggestive, crying, profanities, love blooms, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though), mention of alcohol consumption, betrayal, rock bottom, italics represents occurrences in past

Word Count: 6.4k

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Seungcheol is distressed. He thinks something is wrong with you. Though he had dismissed all the previous occurrences, he can't do it anymore. You're distant nowadays. You don't kiss him goodbyes. You don't say the 'I love you's. You're always ditching him at any chance given. You don't let him sneak into your sheets.

The inseparable godly campus couple are barely seen together nowadays. The rumours are being spread. Some are worried, some are happy. Though you both had no secrets, Seungcheol still thinks you must have your own reasons if you're keeping something upto yourself. He tries his best to be patient and waits for you to come back because he trusts you.

Seungcheol is an enigma. He's sculpted, he's hella smart, he's hella rich. The girls lined up outside the dorm just to catch a glimpse of him. The guys hogged out his dorm room just to know how can someone be a full package.

He knew people would either love him for his looks or mostly for his money. He had no hope of making genuine friends until he came across Wonwoo, a scholarship student, who was aloof and coincidentally his assigned roommate.

If Seungcheol thought he was good at pushing people away, he was amazed to see Wonwoo. Sharing the dorm room with him was almost living alone. Seungcheol couldn't pinpoint why but he knew Wonwoo hated him. So one day after gathering courage and confronting him, Seungcheol comes to know about his cautiousness against rich people in general. Then one talk lead to two, two lead to three and that's how Seungcheol and Wonwoo became friends.

He was sure he wouldn't find love until you came in the picture.

A hard slap comes against Seungcheol's cheek and the whole campus becomes eerily silent.

"How dare you submit my assignment in your name?", you are fuming in rage and raise your hand to slap him again when he holds your hand mid air.

"What the hell are you talking about?", he hisses through his teeth.

You scoff, "The audacity to pretend, Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Just because you have looks and money which you have no contribution in, you think you've conquered the world.", you free your arm from his grip, "Come to the professor's cabin at 2 or else I'll skin you alive. Pathetic loser."

You walk away but Seungcheol has his head spinning. He doesn't get why he got slapped out of nowhere and why the hell would he submit your assignment in his name when he doesn't even know you.

Then the lightbulb in his head goes off.

He immediately corners Jiah.

"What have you done?", he asks angrily.

Jiah is sweating, when she had assured Seungcheol that she would take care of the assignment because he had to aid his father with some business work and would be out of the country for two weeks, she didn't foresee herself completely forgetting about it.

So when she saw a binder kept on a desk, she silently took it and attached Seungcheol's name and details on it, tearing away the original owner's details.

Confident that even if someone caught onto it, they would let it slide just to get on Seungcheol's good side, she never thought it would backfire so bad.

Hence, Seungcheol is currently standing in the professor's cabin admitting to the wrong, head hung low.

You stand straight, head high also glaring at the professor, "What if he had not admitted to doing it? You'd have my whole work credited to him. Next time if something like this happens under my watch, I'll report it to the committee."

The professor gulps nervously and you are walking out not sparing another second.

That's where it all begun. Him knowing your name from the professor and chasing you down to apologise. You unabashedly giving him lectures on authenticity and ethics whenever he approached you.

You frequently get to see him, coincidentally or not. Him trying to make small talks, you ending his approach with an one word answer and moving ahead.

"Are you stalking me?", comes your sudden question one day.

"No, but I do look forward to seeing you, talking to you.", comes his honest answer.

He notices, you also like to keep your circle small. You're seen everywhere with the same two people. Now it's your turn to be amused when one day Mingyu insists on bringing Seungcheol to the musical, the one in which you've contributed to the background score. You're left embarrassed when at the end of the show he yells your name and applauds the loudest because he is mesmerized. That night he treats the whole team to dinner.

"I think Seungcheol likes you.", Eunsoo tells you one day.

"The almighty Choi Seungcheol?", you are laughing, "Soo, I don't match his social status. Have you seen those plastic heiress chasing him? I had even slapped him infront of the whole campus."

"Look, we have become good friends but I do know he approached me because of you.", Mingyu admits, "He definitely likes you."

"Do you like him?", Eunsoo asks you.

"Why would I like him?", you ponder.

Wonwoo is an observer. And with his special skill he deducts that his friend must have had his heart taken.

"So who's the one?", he asks one night when they're both getting ready for bed.

"Who's who?", Seungcheol asks confused.

"The one you like."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes. Please it be anyone except for Jiah, I can't tolerate her. Anyways, I know it wouldn't be her...", then Wonwoo goes on about how he spends less time in the dorm room nowadays. How he's always wandering around in the campus which he never did before. How he's consistent in attending the same two specific lectures.

"It's Y/N.", he says shyly, hiding his face behind his palms.

"No wonder, you're a masochist.", Wonwoo lays down on bed, "You like the girl who slapped you."

Seungcheol gasps, utterly embarassed, "Stop blabbering nonsense!"

When he asks you out, instead of being taken out to a fancy restaurant as initially planned you request him to go on a movie date.

It took you five dates to make him know you.

"We don't belong to the same class, Seungcheol."

"I'm not looking for anything temporary, Seungcheol."

"I don't enjoy the luxuries, I'd rather achieve everything on my own, Cheol."

"I like to keep my circle small amd private. Nothing extravagant."

"I like you too but would you accept me after knowing all this?"

The response from him comes as strong as a whirlwind in the form a deep kiss. You might have been hesitant at start but he has always been sure.

Things have gotten better since your birthday. Seungcheol's hostility towards you has decreased and though you want to question him about this certain change, those take a backseat just to not lose what you have at this moment.

He snarks at you less. Listens if you have something to say. Checks upon you occassionally. Wears the attire you choose for him, you both have breakfast & dinner together. But you still sleep in separate rooms but after intimate nights he doesn't leave, rather sleeps in nowadays.

"You should never trust him.", says Chan from the other end.

"What if he's really changed?", you tell him, "Maybe he has finally got that all this revenge agenda is worthless if you can be with the person you love."

"Just ask him.", Chan insists, "You need to understand that being in denial would only hurt you so confront him."

"Okay, if you insist."

Wonwoo is suspicious of Seungcheol. He too like Chan isn't convinced that Seungcheol could change overnight. So he secretly keeps the tabs on him. The fact which disturbs him is Jiah is happy nowadays. If your relationship with Seungcheol improves then Jiah would be anything but happy which leaves him skeptical.

"Don't do anything you'd regret later.", he warns Seungcheol one day. The latter just shrugs off.

Seungcheol was escatic when he started first. It was fun for him to watch how you'd easily trust him. A piece of calk to make you a fool he thought.

He acts as a considering husband in front of you but schemes your downfall behind your back.

"One of those busy days?", he asks one day when he sees you returning from the academy late. It totally catches you off guard but that simple gesture makes you visibily beam as well which doesn't go unnoticed by your husband. He then proceeds to fake concern and show interest when you talk it out.

"How about we go to watch a movie?", he asks one night when you both finish having dinner.

"Will you be able to make time for that?", you ask concerned.

Next, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out.

"We're in our pyjamas, we can't go out like this, Seungcheol!", you yell in panic when you get his motive.

He doesn't lend you an ear throughout the ride while he's driving you both to the theatre, having it entirely booked to his name.

You can't say much about the movie because Seungcheol's good at distracting you. His dirty whispers, lingering touches and sly looks lead to something unspeakable. Movie long forgotten you're basking in afterglow against your husband's bare chest, in his warm embrace.

"Remember when we were taken out of the theatre by the security after getting caught while making out?"

You laugh at the memory, "We did some real crazy things back then. I could never forget how you walked into the class only in underpants after loosing a bet to me."

Seungcheol response comes out as a scowl as he pinches your sides making you squeal.

You watch him for some moments in silence before mustering the courage and ask him, "Are you really willing to forgive me? Because after what I have done to you, I know it would take a lot more to forgive me."

Seungcheol freezes but gains his compusre quickly and lies through his teeth, "I pondered a lot upon it. You know my mom said the exact thing as you about marriages. So maybe it's a good idea to start anew."

"I-I promise I'll make it up to all the hurt and pain you've been in because of me. I'm so ashamed for treating you like that back then, wish I could take it all back.", your voice cracks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, "We'll be happy Seungcheol."

He doesn't believe you. But you do.

Then this goes on. He tries to slip into your life, your circle, your family casually so that when he hits later, the blow catastrophes you.

"I'm currently working on a piece.", you reveal to him one night, "And I'm planning to release the composition, it's midway.", a sigh escapes your lips as you snuggle closer in your husband's arms, "You're the first one to know."

Seungcheol mirrors your smile, pressing a feather kiss on your head, "I'm honoured. And I'm so proud of you.", he laughs when he says, "I wonder how Seungkwan's gonna react when he comes to know that he wasn't the first one to know."

"Oh God, he's gonna be a bitch about it.", you exclaim about it.

He surprises you with gifts, visits you in the academy and takes you to dates. All of it just to keep tabs on you, make you slip out crucial information about anything.

"When are you going to take her down?", Jiah ask impatiently, "You're unnecessarily stalling time."

"I do have gotten something crucial on her. But the more I dwell into this act, the more she'll be hurt.", Seungcheol assures, "Just do what you've been told to and don't act so obvious, specially around Wonwoo, I don't know why but he has been lately saying stuffs. Seems he has grown closer to Y/N and her circle."

Though he wasn't interested at all, but for the sake of fooling you again, he attends the competition you & Seungkwan had taken part in.

Though he would never admit, he was intrigued as he watched you perform again, the nostalgia had hit him hard. He still isn't sure if the loudest claps those came from him were just for eyewash or out of genuinity.

Though he didn't want to spend his birthday with you, somehow it ended up being the most memorable one. When you had wished him dot at midnight and gathered his family and beloved people for a private party where you played him a romantic piece which you had composed just for him as a birthday present, in front of everyone, he wonders if love laced aura radiating from you was real. He wonders if the swell in his chest was just not because of you.

Every time he thinks he's slipping, he reminds himself of the heart burns, the trauma and again he's back to his agenda.

There's a fine line between pretense and reality. And that line is starting to blur for Seungcheol. The worst part, he hasn't even realised it yet.

So when he makes time to visit your academy, he thinks he's acting out according to his plan. But he doesn't realise he goes there just to watch you teach.

He doesn't realise that when plans those dates he actually looks forward to spending time with you.

When you were down with fever, he took you to the doctor not to look good to you but out of genuine worry.

He now shares his bedroom with you. All your belongings have shifted from your room to his. He doesn't like it when he finds the other side of the empty in the mornings. He doesn't let you go if he catches you while you try to sneak off, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

He knows about your schedules and nowadays he frees his schedule when you ask him to come and watch you perform. He anticipates your performance until you're on the stage, still claps the loudest and rushes to the backstage with a bouquet just to hug and tell how proud he is of you.

He doesn't fuck you and he might yet not be aware but makes love to you.

"Cherry!", he calls out one day when the two of you were goofing around and both of you freeze instantly. It was a name you both called each other when you both dated and were so in love. And now, that's what falls back to your lips. Like the good old days.

"You have changed.", Jiah says with disappointment, "Do you really not want revenge?"

"What rubbish.", Seungcheol laughs, "It's all just acting.", but the assertiveness in his voice fluctuates.

"So when are you gonna do the needful?", she raises her voice and Seungcheol glares at her.

"I'll decide when to do what.", he snarks, "Doesn't concern you, so stop being pushy."

And Jiah is sure that Seungcheol isn't determined anymore, that his feelings are resurfacing and interfering with the plan.

So she decides to take the matter into her hands once again, like she did years ago.

"Tell me you're joking.", Seungcheol laughs as his gaze sweeps at the faces, "Ok fine you guys got me. Good try."

There's an eerie silence clogging the room.

"Guys, I said y'all got me!", Seungcheol says this time a bit anxious, "You won! Now can we stop all this drama?"

You roll your eyes, as if unbothered, "There's no prank going on here. What I said was true."

You step closer to him, "I'll say it again so listen carefully. You were just a bet to me.", you say unapologetically, "Those guys", your index points at Mingyu and Eunsoo, "gave me a bet to make you, 'the enigmatic Choi Seungcheol'", a mocking laugh follows, "who nobody could bag yet", you're now objectifying him, "make fall in you love with me."

Seungcheol just listens. But he refuses to believe.

You are laughing again. Your hands grab his face moving it side to side, "I was so skeptical because you seemed scary. I mean you do have looks, money and power. But who could guess that you'd be so easy."

You circle around him, "All I had to do was create this image of aloof, private kind of girl and bam! you were circling around me like a puppy. I must admit, I was surprised at my own acting. Never made you have a doubt any second."

The first tear rolls down his cheek, when Seungcheol says, "Was none of it real for you, all the time we spent together?"

"Are you not getting it?", you ask annoyed, "No. None of it was real."

Seungcheol rushes to Mingyu and grabs his collar, "Gyu, please tell me it's all a lie. Just say it and I'd believe it in a blink."

Mingyu stays quiet, eyes lowered.

He then grabs Eunsoo, "Soo, I know you're the most rational one among us, so please please I'm begging you to tell. Tell me whatever she's telling is not true."

Eunsoo refuses to meet his gaze, she stays silent as well.

Seungcheol frees her and stands motionless for moments. He processes everything that he has heard since the moment he stepped into the room. He thinks over but he still doesn't want to believe.

Because he loves you to much to let you go. So he decides to be irrational just one time.

Seungcheol wipes the tears and walks upto you. When you look at him, your heart twists within your chest.

"Y/N", he looks at you so tenderly, "But none of it matters.", his hands travel up to caress your face, "Because all of it was true from my side. I love you, Y/N. Love you so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It's you or no one.", he says so sincerely, "It was wrong to start off as a bet but I want to forget all this."

He then kneels on his knees, "Y/N, let's start this relationship afresh, on the right foot."

You panic because this was not you had expected. You had expected him to throw tantrum, say mean things, even slap you. But none of that happens.

"I don't love you, Seungcheol --"

"Then let me court you. Let me try my luck. Let's see if I could make you fall for me?", he's radiating so much love and grief that it suffocates all the three of you.

This won't do, you think, your plan is failing.

"I have been sleeping with people behind your back the whole time we dated.", you say unabashedly, "I have climbed beds and you never got to know."

Mingyu gasps, Eunsoo freezes at your words.

"It's okay", Seungcheol assures, "Because we weren't real. But now--"

"What makes you think I wouldn't do the same even after being an actual thing with you?", you scoff, "I might actually cheat on you this time. I would have you, your money, the luxuries. I might also see other people and like now, you'd never know.

Seungcheol feels like you've stabbed his heart and twisted the knife. There's an unfathomable bleeding.

"But you never used me, nor my money, none of the luxuries to get something. If you wanted, you could have, have it all.", he argues, "It might have started as an act but at some point it must have become real. Or why would you make me aware of this stupid bet if you didn't have feelings for me?"

"Stop being a sucker.", you snark at him, "It's not like you won't girls. Why are you acting like a loser when you know I don't, I won't reciprocate your feelings?"

Seungcheol gets up, with shaky hands and bloodshot eyes.

"Because even if you didn't, I have loved you honestly.", comes Seungcheol's response.

"I won the bet and lost interest in you.", you look at him condescendingly, "I felt bad for you, so right now I'm letting you know the truth. So just leave, forget about all this and carry on with your life. You were nothing but another notch on my bedpost. I would admit, I had fun. Thanks for that."

Seungcheol gets up and thinks about how he made a fool of himself. Thinks about how right he was about people taking advantage of him because of the baggage that comes with him. Thinks about how wrong it was of him to let his guard down.

"Well played, y'all.", he claps and chuckles bitterly with eyes pooling with tears, "Well played.", he then throws a glare at you which sends down a shiver down your & your friends' spine.

"Make sure to not cross paths with me again. Or I'll make you regret your existance."

And you made sure that's the last time he saw you.

"I have to be overseas for an important deal.", Seungcheol says laying back on his office chair, "It will be a one week trip and the connectivity is so bad, I'd probably lose touch with everyone while I'll be there."

You go over to his side and stand behind to rub his shoulders making your husband groan in relief, "Tell me about it, happens with Chan as well. When are you leaving?"

Seungcheol takes your hand and pulls you to make you sit on his lap when he says, "Month end. Y/N, I was thinking that...", he pauses to look at you before continuing, "If you could make some time and come with me. We didn't have our honeymoon yet so maybe we could make a good use of this trip."

You smile softly at him, "I'd love to but remember I had told you about working on a composition, it's release is set on by the month end."

"Oh right!", Seungcheol exclaims as he recollects, "God, I'm sorry it skipped my mind.", he instantly sullens, "But I don't think I'd be able to postpone this trip. I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you."

You peck his pouty lips and trace them with your thumb softly, "I can guess how important it would be, so don't worry. Anyways our first anniversary is coming as well, we can plan something later."

"Woah, we're getting through it?", Seungcheol laughs, "I can't believe, we made it."

"All because of you.", your mood shifts when you say, "Just because you had it in you to give me a second chance. That alone was enough."

"I had loved you back then", Seungcheol exhales sharply because of what he's going to say now. He smiles when he realises his feelings, realises that without hesitation he's ready to say it again. Gently holding your face he confesses, "I think I'm falling for you again."

You go absolutely stiff in his hold.

Seungcheol carefully searches your face for any signs of discomfort or uneasiness but he finds none.

"Am I dreaming?", you ask him animatedly, "Can you pinch me? No..", you shake your head, "Would you say it again?"

His eyes turn into crescent moons, as he flashes you the adorable teethy smile.

"I've fallen for you again.", he admits.

"I-I... Seungcheol.. I--", you stutter unable to wrap your mind around your husband's confession.

It was so hard to let you go. It killed to break your heart. Only if I could turn back time, only if I could tell how much I loved you as well.

The thoughts inside your head become louder making you so overwhelmed that now you are sobbing. It's uncontrollable and it makes Seungcheol have to rock you gently side to side while downing your face on his shoulder.

"I-I can't believe this is happening.", you don't face him, saying the words with your face still perched, while wrapping your arms around him tighter, "I love you so much, I know it'd be hard for you to believe but please just trust me on this."

Seungcheol doesn't speak, but he knows that he wants to believe you. Because love is about taking chances, so he might take it as well.

Once you calm down in his embrace, he watches you. He watches the gear in your head turning so he does what he could do to take your mind off of things.

He calls Wonwoo and says, "Don't let anyone into my cabin until you get another call from me. Also, don't connect anyone to the telecom."

Then he's flipping the phone somewhere and he gives you that one look which is enough to melt you into a puddle before his lips, tongue and hands start to work on your whole body.

"Congratulations!", Chan says hugging you, "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks for making time and coming to the event. Also, the inspiration comes from you all", you say pulling away, "Credit goes to you too."

"Bluff.", Seungkwan comes to pitch in, "The theme is love, then clearly inspiration must be someone named  'Choi Seungcheol'."

You roll eyes hitting him on the arm but laugh nonetheless.

"Look she isn't even denying!", Mingyu joins in to throw a banter, "But I must say you're okay compared to Eunsoo, she's hopeless."

Chan quirks brow at the statement and asks, "Am I missing something?"

You hook your arm into his, saying, "Eunsoo had an itty bitty crush on Wonwoo at uni days which gradually got away. But now that he's back and into our circle, looking like a four course meal according to her, she thinks her crush is relapsing."

"You make it sound like it's cancer.", Eunsoo finally quips in, "Anyways doesn't matter, there's no scope, I must move on. Good thing Seungcheol took Wonwoo with him, out of sight, out of mind."

"I miss my husband. He didn't even wanna leave for the trip to be with me.", you sigh, leaning on your brother's shoulder, "I can't even contact him. Three more days, ugh sounds like an eternity."

"Oh god, I might puke at the lovesickness.", Seungkwan fake gags, "Disgusting."

"It's good to see that you're happy.", Chan whispers just to you while others indulge in several topics to tease one another, "It's such a relief. I would like to talk to Seungcheol once he's back. If he really loves you and makes you feel like home then I'm ready to mend things as well."

You just nod and let the moment sink in. Your pupils dilate as you see the smiles on your friends' faces who have been there with you through thick and thin. Your mind lingers back the proud expression on your parents face. The heartiest congratulations that you received from your in-laws. You tilt your head to look at your brother who always has been your anchor, your biggest supporter. All of them have been present at the composition release event and now they are present at your home to extend the celebration. The parents take leave after sometime to let the peers have fun.

Your home, as you say it proudly now, a place you share with your loving husband, who has forgiven you for the scarred past and shares companionship with you.

Everything is falling back to place and you wish it stays the same. Your eyes fall heavy and you drift off.

The sleep must have been good because it's 10 in the morning when you wake up to see yourself tucked in sheets in your bedroom. The hall is empty and you immediately understand that your brother must have taken it upon himself to drive away your lovely but clingy-when-drunk friends from your house.

You try to call Seungcheol but as usual he's unreachable, so is Wonwoo, so is everyone who has gone to the trip. Dejected, you leave him a series of undelivered texts in hope it somehow reaches him and decide to take a bath which involves you to be away from your phone, just relaxing music and another round of sleep in the bathtub with your favourite bath bombs.

Not sure how long you've fallen asleep but you're woken up by loud voices from the other side of the door. Quickly freshening up you get ready as your phone keeps ringing or dinging because of notifications. Ignoring that you get out of your bedroom to find very distressed Chan and Seungkwan waiting for you.

"What happened guys?", you ask in concern.

Chan makes you sit and you see the two exchanging nervous glances which in turn makes you nervous as well.

"Y/N..", Seungkwan starts off, he exhales sharply and says, "Your work is being accused of plagiarism."

The ground beneath you slips. You look at Seungkwan and then at Chan.

Chan sounds pissed when he says, "Apparently a local artist has already released the composition five days ago, meaning four days before your release event."

You are panicking, shaking, tears are streaming down your face, "I-I didn't steal anyone's work. I-I have composed them, they're my work. Trust me guys, please..I--"

"We trust you, Y/N.", Seungkwan runs to you and rubs your arms, "I have been with you through it. I have seen it all."

"I was studying it with Kwan before coming here, everything is same. Every piece, every insertion, every note.", Chan says, "It looks like someone wholly copied your work.

Seungkwan sighs, "I feel so ashamed but all I can think of is somefrom the academy doing so."

"That's possible.", Chan asks, "But from what I know no one knew about this except you both. Even the event was announced just before a day or two to the people of academy."

Seungkwan asserts, "Everything was done remotely. Y/N do you recollect telling anyone else about this at any stage apart from Seungcheol?"

"Seungcheol knew?", Chan quips surprised and you are shaking your head.

"No. Leave him out of this, he wouldn't have done anything.", you warn your brother.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but I can't leave anyone out of this.", Chan says, "Someone is trying to harm you and I would see through the end of it. Be it anyone."

Eunsoo and Mingyu are stumbling upon while crossing the threshold. Seungkwan briefs them about what have been deducted till now and they decide to stick by your side while Chan and Seungkwan rushes out to the field to gather evidence and facts.

"I have already talked to my father.", Mingyu informs you, "He himself will aid with any legal advice. Don't worry everything will be sorted out."

"I had a talk with my mother. She also ensured that we'd broadcast only the solid proofs that pertains to the truth. We have faith in you, it'll get over soon.", Eunsoo ensures you, "Infact we have had our reporters dig in the matter as well."

Soon after your parents arrive followed by your in-laws. Your phone keeps ringing and no one allows you to hold it. Eventually, the device is turned off and kept somewhere, out of your reach.

Among all of the ominous thoughts involving losing your career, unable to pursue your passion anymore, being deemed as a thief, outcasted by the society and all others, the one that prevails is would Seungcheol believe you?

Two days go by and there's not much progress. You strike continuously as the most trending person on the internet, on news papers, in some tabloids boldly called out as a thief, the others focused more on why there's no statement from your own company or the Choi's themselves. The only thing that keeps you at bay is Seungcheol's return tomorrow.

You are flabbergasted at how can the two pieces of work be exact same unless someone copied it. You decide to visit the academy and search for any leads. Just as you are about to drive off your phone buzzes.

I have some information that would benefit you. Meet me at The Ritz at 11.

The text was from Jiah and you're instantly drawn to how Jiah could be the one involved in this.

"Let's skip the formalities.", Jiah smiles as she places some documents and an usb drive in front of you.

There's a laptop kept on the table, the screen displaying an audio ready to be played.

"Aren't you eager to know what's happening and why it's happening to you?", Jiah asks with a cunning smile which irks you.

"Stop wasting my time and reveal if you know something.", you snark back, "And don't think I'd believe a word you say without any proof because I don't trust you a bit."

"Seungcheol--"

"Don't you dare bring my husband into this, Jiah!"

Your heart shrinks because of the look Jiah gives you. No way your husband would be involved into all this, no way he'd go as far as to ruin your career.

"I have done it. I have paid a staff in your academy to steal your work, made it release before your event and hence you're being charged with plagiarism.", Jiah confesses and before you could charge her she drops the bomb, "Your husband, Choi Seungcheol is the mastermind behind it."

"I'll cut your tongue for speaking rubbish--"

"How do you think I knew about all this? Who else apart from Seungcheol knew about this?", Jiah asks. Her gaze falls on the laptop and she gestures you to play it.

"Y/N is working on a composition and is planning to release it sometime later. We should use this opportunity to bring her down."

The audio stops and you recognise the voice as your husband's. The jab hits hard, hard enough to make you loose your footing. Jiah is quick to hold you and make you sit on the chair.

"Have a look at these papers."

Your hands are shaky when you pick up the papers. You freeze on reading the heading. Your hands fall to the sides once you finish reading it whole. Those bunch of papers were about transferring your shares of the academy under the Choi's name.

Jiah doesn't give you time to settle as she plays another recording.

"Are the papers ready? What will happen if I take her lifeline away from her?"

"When are you going to take her down? You're unnecessarily stalling time."

"The more I dwell into this act, the more she'll be hurt. Just do what you've been told to and don't act so obvious, specially around Wonwoo, I don't know why but he has been lately saying stuffs. Seems he has grown closer to Y/N and her circle."

You sit there motionless. The person you considered your world was the one planning to stab you.

"You can get these recordings examined.", Jiah tells you, "To be sure that I haven't manipulated or tampered with the recordings."

She takes a sit beside you and observes you carefully. The triumphant smile that graces her lips on seeing you getting trampled, makes her believe that now's the time when she could spew any lies and you'd believe it. She knows she has won over.

"The plan was to take advantage of your helplessness and make you transfer the shares in the disguise of helping you clearing your name.", Jiah leans in closer to your face, "Why do you think Seungcheol is out of country out of all the time? He's trying to build up the urgency so that as soon as he walks in you'd be at his feet asking for help."

Jiah has accepted that she would never have Seungcheol to herself, so not at fear of loosing anything she's going all out as for to separate you two.

"The Choi's are so powerful that no matter how much you try, there's no way you could prove your innocence.", Jiah says as her sinisteric gaze falls on you again, "You can take all these proofs, additionally, I'll even provide the details pertaining to the person who stole your work and make them confess."

"W-Why are you helping me?"

"Either way it breaks you two apart and that's the motive. Knowing the truth would hurt you the most."

Her heels clank loudly as she walks out, leaving you behind, defeated and devastated.

How foolish of you to believe that Seungcheol would forgive you easily? How naive of you that you fell for his act of a doting husband.

You wonder if this is how he had felt after being betrayed by you. You run your hands over your chest to soothe the ache. You scream, throw down anything you could grab, stomp over the place but nothing helps you in calming down.

Three hours have passed and you're still in that damned conference room. Scathed, scrotched and scattered.

You inhale, exhale and repeat. Then you're calling your brother.

"Chan, arrange for a press conference tomorrow evening. Also stop looking further into the case. I have evidence to prove that I'm innocent.", you say into the phone, "Gather everyone at the academy, none of the Choi's though. Ask Eunsoo if they would broadcast it on their network. Tell Mingyu to have Mr. Kim free some time for me this week if possible. Make the checks now, we can't delay it further."

Seungcheol's boarding the plane back home when he comes to know of the situation. He feels sick to stomach when all that's happening feels too known to him. Though he might have wanted this to happen once but now he can't even fantom the thought of doing something so viscious to you.

He calls you but you don't pick up. He calls others, makes Wonwoo call them too but it's fruitless.

He's anxious throughout the way, worried sick, feels guilty for not being by your side when you're going through so much. He hopes you're not beating your much, wants to hold, wants to assure you that everything will be fine, that you have him.

Wonwoo is running through all the red lights equally anxious. He wants to go inside and check upon you but he steps aside as he watches Seungcheol rushing into the house, hoping you'll be okay.

Seungcheol rustles through the corridor and slam opens the door, hurriedly making a sprint inside the house.

It's afternoon but the house, entire hallway is dimly lit. Suddenly the lights go on and he spots you.

Something about you is different, it's almost eerie. The black dress you're wearing, the cold gaze your throwing is unsettling.

"Baby--", you hold out your hand when Seungcheol starts to walk towards you.

Seungcheol halts, he feels the grimness in your aura.

"Welcome back, Seungcheol. I have been waiting for you.", you say apathetically, "Take a seat, I have some things to discuss with you, before I leave for the press conference."

That's when Seungcheol notices your finger void of the wedding ring.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

#withering for you #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt au #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #scoups #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol scenarios #scoups scenarios #scoups x y/n #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #scoups x you #seungcheol x you #scoups fanfic #scoups au #seungcheol au #svt fanfic #svt fluff #svt angst

[greycaelum]

Please this reminded me of kaleidoscope. I believe that the gojo kids are chunky babys🤣🤣

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8P9MEGg/

TRUEEEEEE~ I didn't get to give you anything last week so I'll make it a drabble~ I hope you like it! Chonky sunshine babies~ Happy December everyone!!

CW: suggestive hints at the end, nothing too much~

Kouki had breast milk for his whole first year.

"He's chonky..." Satoru rubbed his face against the squishy mallowy, chompable cheeks of his 10-month-old son you are feeding on your rocking chair by the engawa of your home. Satoru is sitting on the floor while watching you nurse the little boy close to drifting into dreamland.

Kouki has always had a good appetite and was very easy to nurse. So much so that you had to start scheduling his feeding or else if you didn't he would be too chonky and too heavy to lift.

"Can we keep him just like this? Look he's the most precious thing you probably have seen in your life!" Satoru rested his chin on your knees and flashed you his puppy eyes trying to convince you to feed the little mochi more.

"Chonky baby is cute but he'll drain me if I just let him." You kissed the thin sheen of hair on your son's head, as white as snow like his father. Kouki's lashes fluttered, unlatching from you, and he scrunched his nose to snuggle in your chest, yawning for a bit before closing his drowsy eyes back to sleep.

"I'll burp him, lemme..." Satoru opened his arms and gently rubbed Kouki's back. It didn't take long for the little mochi to burp. For some reason, he always burps fast when it's his Papa.

"Satoru don't!"

Chomp

Your eyes widen at your husband sneaking in a bite to the sleeping baby's cheeks, too cute to resist utterly waking a grumpy sleepy mochi.

"Satoru!"

Satoru rubbed the back of his head as he tried to soothe the little mochi up.

"Sorry Honey, he was just too cute to resist."

Saika although a pretty small baby has also been breastfed a year and 2 months because it took her quite a while to get used to formula.

It's 2:30 am and it's the Little Treasure's time for milk. Satoru is away for an overseas mission so you have to deal with the night feeding as well. Tired and reluctant, you parted ways with your soft pillow to reach for the bassinet only to be met with an empty space.

Chill ran down your spine as you shot up in panic only to be met by the scene of your drowsy husband sitting on your rocking chair with Saika in his arms suckling on her milk bottle.

"Go back to sleep Honey, I'll put her back after she finishes." Satoru yawned and smiled softly in your direction.

"But you haven't slept yet..." You felt relieved your daughter wasn't fussy. The little one is a little more sensitive and has been quite protected because of the incident before her birth.

"It's fine, look she's too precious when she drinks milk, I can't possibly take my eyes off her." Satoru grinned down at his daughter, suckling despite asleep. "She's so tiny... So precious..." He murmured as he held the bottle of milk for her. "She's perfect."

You smiled at them bonding in the wee hours of dawn as you returned to sleep. By the next morning, it came as no surprise to see Satoru cramped inside Saika's crib, sound asleep as the little Treasure blinked up to you innocently holding her empty milk bottle.

"Ma..mma!"

Bonus:

"What are you looking at?" You warily glanced at your husband when you asked him to help you with the hook of your bra since it's hard for you to reach. Pregnancy for the third time has made you quite adept in asking him for help since if you won't he will pester you and follow you around until he gets to help you with something.

Satoru hummed and kissed your nape, looking at the mirror as he hugged you from the back with his face slotted in the space of your shoulder. A proud smile adorned his lips as he slowly reached to cup your heavy breast and his other hand protectively caress your heavy baby bump sending shivers down your spine.

"You're so sexy, Honey." Satoru praised you peppering kisses to your skin as he sucks on your neck leaving a love bite before staring back at your reflection in the mirror with a satisfied smirk at your flushed state. "If your milk comes before the babies, can I have a taste test first?"

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

#kaleidoscope series #gojo munchkins👀 #c&mchapters #married gojo fluff #jjk dad gojo satoru #jjk dad gojo #gojo saika #gojo kouki #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #greycaelum #dadgojo #jjk dad gojo fluff #jjk gojo married fluff #married gojo satoru #gojo satoru x wife #gojo x pregnant reader

[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant partner? Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

Note: Wow, it's been so long since I've written NSFW…. I'm a bit rusty.

Then I'll have to do Aether, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, as well as diving back into rewriting the old texts in this series. I'd also like to do Freminet… Let me know if you're interested in other characters.

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

Part 6 Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus

"Ah?! A ba-baby!?"

Itto's reaction was surely overblown, yet the expression on his face was undoubtedly to die for. Mouth wide open, he stared at you in shock, taking a long moment before pulling himself together.

Bursting into laughter, he wrapped his muscular arms around you. "Ha ha ha! I've got to tell the Arataki gang! They'll be so happy to know that their leader will soon be a father! No, wait! I'll announce it to all of Inazuma! Let's have a big party! OYE! SHINOBU!" You hit him hard on the head, red with shame. 

"I forbid you to tell anyone until you're three months pregnant! Have I made myself clear?!" Your stern tone sent shivers up and down his spine. 

"Ah?! Why not now?" You sighed. You may have loved this man with all your being, but he was still exhausting your nerves.

"There's a high risk of miscarriage during this period, which is why I'm asking you not to talk about it... Please. Please." His expression slowly softened as his gaze dipped into yours. Again, he wrapped his arms around you more gently, tenderly kissing your forehead. 

"Understood, boss." You smiled, lovingly returning his embrace.

Itto's behavior during the pregnancy was so exemplary that the members of his gang, Shinobu first, wondered if he hadn't suddenly fallen on his face. He even went so far as to find "honest" jobs here and there to buy you maternity clothes and furniture for his future bedroom.

Your husband had the ingenious idea of consulting the high priestess Yae Miko for advice on your pregnancy... Peculiar. Itto knew of no demon in his circle who had fathered a child with a human. His instincts warned him of the risks you could run with a half-demon baby. Miko will make sure you're taken care of by a midwife who knows the oni world.

You felt terribly ill during your pregnancy. From beginning to end, your vomiting and discomfort drove Itto crazy with worry. You could see him running around looking for anything that would make you feel better. If you were vomiting, Itto would stay with you, stroking your back until it passed. If you felt dizzy, he'd lift you into his arms and sit you on his lap, rocking you gently until you felt better.

Often, you could see your companion admiring you with a blissful expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?" you'd ask him every time, knowing perfectly well his answer. You loved hearing him repeat the same passionate, loving words to you. "I just think you're beautiful. I can't take my eyes off you. Héhé." Itto always had this little blush on his face when he admired your rounded belly. Really, pregnancy made him much softer and more considerate than usual.

You didn't like people touching your belly just because you were pregnant. And it took you a long time to accept that Itto would do it without you grumbling. Yet it was his childlike smile and the stars in his eyes that gradually made you accept the situation.

Itto would often talk to his baby, telling him how his day was going or stories about the oni clans. You could only listen, rolling your eyes as he combined words with gestures. Even so, you couldn't resist stroking your companion's imposing hair, smiling tenderly as you watched him.

When your belly is rounded enough to be visible even from several meters away, Itto will make a habit of always kissing it, amused by the baby's kicks that would distort your belly. "HAHAHA this child will be big and strong, just like his father!"

It was quite amusing to see your companion preparing for the birth of your child, taking crash courses with a few women from your village. Shinobu was obviously making sure that his boss used the right gestures to calm a child's cries, change its diapers or properly hold its baby in his arms.

As expected, the delivery was difficult. Giving birth to a half-demon child demanded a strength your human body didn't possess. Blood loss made you wince and Itto thought for a moment he was going to lose you both. But you showed exemplary strength, and the support of your companion, as well as that of the high priestess, enabled you to pass this difficult ordeal. Your baby's cries echoed through the room, and Itto wept loudly, clutching your hand to his cheek. His tremors and muffled sobs made you smile tenderly, as happy as he was that all had ended well.

Itto was speechless as he took his child in his arms for the first time. Was this little crying creature his baby? The one he'd seen growing in your belly? HIS child?! He was so tiny, so cute with his little scarlet horns barely visible on the top of his skull. Not quite knowing how to soothe his crying baby, you showed him the right way to rock him and... Surprisingly, Itto was extremely good at it...

Your tender oni is said to be a very protective and cheerful father. He wants his child to always see the world in a positive light. He'll sometimes be a bit too daredevil with him, earning your wrath. Fortunately for you, Itto will calm down over the years…

NSFW Bonus

"POUAH, I'm exhausted!" Itto dropped onto the bed, arms and legs spread wide as he let his heavy eyes close. "The Arataki gang gave it their all again today. Hehe, at least we're not causing Shinobu any more trouble!" Watching him out of the corner of your eye, you smiled slyly, striding towards him with hushed steps. The oni opened his eyes abruptly when he felt you climb astride his hips, your hands sensually massaging his bare chest. You'd always appreciated the firmness of his muscles, taking pleasure in exploring each of his curves to discover the most sensitive places he hid. Leaning over him, letting your chest, slightly swollen with pregnancy hormones, rest against his, you nibbled his lower lip. His eyes, immediately filling with desire, couldn't tear themselves away from yours. You could quickly feel your lover hardening beneath you.

"Do you still have enough strength left to care for your companion in need?" You mumble erotically in his ear, teasing his nipples with your fingertips. "I want it terribly~" Itto lifts his hips to meet yours, one of his hands positioning itself on your waist to rock you onto your back.

"Do you feel that?" His hand crept under your clothes, passing the band of your underwear to caress your femininity. "Héhé~ you're already soaking wet darling~ Is it being pregnant that puts you in the mood?" Without giving you time to respond to his comment, Itto enters two fingers deep inside you, making you cry out in surprise. He knew perfectly well where all your sensitive points were, pressing slyly on them to make you moan loudly. Your body sought to escape the delicious torture he was inflicting, his fingers aggressively penetrating you. "Don't awaken the beast in me if you don't want to writhe in pleasure under my ministrations." Itto was a completely different man when he had sex with you, his usually jovial face transforming into a darker expression as his desires got the better of him.

Pregnant or not, he was never one to go out of his way. Itto knew he was big, too big for you, and foreplay was always a mandatory step before he could implant his sex inside you. "Look at you, darling, your breasts are so big with pregnancy. I want to lick them terribly!" Itto grabbed one of your breasts between his lips, adding a third finger inside you as his free hand groped his pants to pull out his excruciatingly hard member. It was too much for you, and your back arched beneath him, your hips swaying to the rhythm of his fingers. You were so close, and seeing him caress himself while he fingered you made you come hard on his hand. Itto pulled away slightly you, leaning toward the other nipple he hadn't yet teased. "Not yet... Not until you can take four inside you." Damn, that damned demon!

Itto looked thirstier than you, his eyes glowing scarlet as he watched you cum with four of his fingers inside you, just as he'd promised. Sex with him had always been sport, but now that you were pregnant, everything seemed more intense. When he finally penetrated you, that damned demon took a malicious pleasure in watching you from all his height, holding your legs close to his hips as he pounded you rigorously. His eager eyes darted between your face distorted with pleasure, your swollen breasts bouncing with each of his hip thrusts and your slightly rounded belly.

Itto was a man of stamina, far more than anything you could take. So when you begged him to stop, the oni would comply at once, fear settling in his brain. Had he hurt you? Was the baby all right? None of the above... But you were clearly close to fainting. Itto, aware that he'd been a bit hard on you, will take care of your body, immersing you with him in a warm bath, his big hands massaging your shoulders. He won't be frightened to see you asleep in his arms, so, taking advantage of your sleep, your companion will cuddle you tenderly, one hand resting on your belly, lovingly caressing it.

"I'm going to be a dad? Really?"

You smiled tenderly, taking his trembling hands in yours. Heizou's gaze flickered between your eyes and your belly. A baby? You were pregnant?! His mind blurred as a vision of you with a round belly popped into his head. All of a sudden, the word dad sounded pretty good in his head... Kneeling in front of you, Heizou encircled your thighs with his arms, placing a tender ear close to your belly, a joyful smile on his lips. "I'm going to be a daddy... I'm going to be... Daddy!" Slowly, tears rolled down the cheeks of your companion, who had suddenly gone silent. Your hands were lost in his hair, cradling Heizou against you, feeling his tears stain your clothes. You waited patiently for him to calm down before kneeling down in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your forehead resting against his as a gentle smile stretched your lips. Heizou closed his eyes, resting the palms of his hands on your cheeks, his thumbs lovingly caressing your skin. He breathed in your scent slowly, enjoying it more and more each day.

The two of you remained like this for a long moment, enjoying the tender silence that surrounded you. Images of your future life flashed through your minds. Heizou carrying your child in his arms, his gaze tenderly on him until that tenderness was directed at you...

Heizou was nothing but sweetness and tenderness to you. Even before carrying his child, this man never raised his voice at you or refused to take you in his arms. He loved to cuddle you, take care of you and listen to you. Sometimes, he would take you on his lap and listen to you affectionately talk about your future child, imagining your future life with him. You could sometimes see a dreamy smile stretch your companion's lips, as he imagined, just like you, this wonderful life.

Kazuha was a close friend of yours, so he was one of the first to be informed of your pregnancy. What a surprise when he knocked on your door, a gentle smile on his lips, holding your letter in his bandaged hand. "I've asked Beidou to make a little detour to come and see you. Congratulations, both of you." The two men weren't very tactile compared to you, who didn't hesitate to hug him in thanks. "Hehe, expect the title of Uncle Kazuha! What do you think Heizou? Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"; "Pretty good indeed." Heizou replied, a warm smile on his lips. To tell the truth, Kazuha didn't mind and, in a way, was happy to know that a family would now be waiting for him back in Inazuma.

Your companion's job was a constant source of anxiety for you. The midwife had gently admonished you for this, reminding you that stress during pregnancy could be bad for you and the child. Heizou, who accompanied you that day, bowed respectfully to her, promising to do all he could to calm your anxieties. Obviously, you were feeling terrible as you left the surgery, crying your eyes out in your companion's arms. Heizou comforted you tenderly, murmuring words filled with love. After this episode, he promised you he wouldn't take any more potentially dangerous commissions for the rest of your pregnancy…

For a few weeks, you'd been practicing cooking for your future baby. Heizou was sort of your test subject, trying to create colorful and cute bento. He enjoyed it every time, looking forward to seeing what you had prepared for him. He loved the little octopuses you made with the sausages, or the animal-shaped onigiri. His favorite was surely the pink onigiri that strongly resembled a fox. He was sure you'd tried to imitate Lady Yae Miko in her yokai form.

Heizou was sitting comfortably on your bed, one hand tenderly caressing your scalp while your head rested on his thigh. You could feel his other hand warmly covering your six-month-old belly, occasionally enjoying the little kicks his child gave through you. Heizou's fingers had always had this magical effect on you, weighing down your eyelids as sleep slowly invaded. Heizou was happy to have you in his arms, confident and at peace, pampering and cherishing you. Your breathing was a soothing sound to his ears and the movements of his child against his hand, an affectionate warmth he loved to feel.

"Heizou, promise me you'll stay with me through the birth! The closer the fateful date gets, the more I'm afraid of what's going to happen..." Your companion took you in his arms, gently caressing the small of your back. "I promise I'll be there, from the beginning, until the end." His lips kissed your forehead, moving down your nose until they settled on your lips. "Together... Even if I end up with a crushed hand, I'll stay by your side." You laughed, hitting his arm without force. "Everything will be okay, Y/N... I love you."

Your companion managed your first contractions with impressive composure. He quickly took you to the midwife's office, insisting on staying by your side all the way, as he had promised. Your companion kept your hand in his, occasionally wiping your forehead with a cool cloth. He encouraged you all the way, worrying about your cries of pain. He knew it could last several hours, and seeing you suffer helplessly gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite the context, he promised himself to remind you later of all the curses you'd shouted against him and the gods, while your mind was clouded with pain. He would surely have laughed if he hadn't seen the tears rolling down your cheeks…

Heizou remained silent for a long time, as he gazed with tear-filled eyes at his infant, comfortably ensconced in the crook of his arms. Sitting cautiously by your side, he finally dared to explore his child's chubby face, tenderly brushing his cheeks, nose and little lips. Curious, he placed a finger in the hollow of his palm, his little hand automatically tightening around it. Heizou let his tears flow, leaning gently towards his baby to kiss the top of his head, then towards you, lovingly claiming your lips.

Heizou will be a very warm and instructive father. He wants his child to be able to learn all sorts of things for himself, encouraging his curiosity and intellect. He will never be too hard or too strict with him, preferring to explain things several times rather than let him give up. He doesn't expect his child to follow in his footsteps, but he'll still be happy when he tells him he wants to become a great detective, just like him.

NSFW bonus:

You were naked, leaning over the bathtub to check that the water temperature wasn't too hot, completely oblivious to the olive eyes staring back at you with a brilliant gleam of desire. Heizou approached you, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. His hand rested on your belly as his bare chest pressed against your back. You shivered as his teeth nibbled your earlobe. "You really are gorgeous..." He murmured sensually as his hands worshipped every inch of your skin.

"Hei-Heizou, you really are insatiable! We've already made love today! Twice!" You growl without any real motivation, your lover's hands slowly kneading your chest. You hear him giggle against your ear, pressing his hips against your buttocks.

"Is that a problem? I can easily guess you want this as much as I do..." That man and his damned intuitions! You quickly gave up the fight as Heizou sensually lowered one of his hands between your thighs, teasing your femininity with his fingers. "You're so wet already~ Is it pregnancy that's got you all worked up?" Heizou pinched your nipple as one finger penetrated you with ease, making you squeal against him.

"Stop teasing me for a moment! I need you..." You begged, your fingers encircling Heizou's wrist. Your companion breathed an amused laugh, withdrawing his hand from you to guide you to the bathtub. He didn't need to fight your desires, because after all... He wanted the same thing you did.

Heizou kissed you with tender passion, his hands resting on your hips helping to lift you onto his member. And as he pulled away from your lips to better admire you, seeing you gasp, head slightly tilted back and lips parted under the influence of pleasure swelled his heart with pride. He was the one who put you in this state... Singing his name as he touched all your sweet spots... You were so sensitive with pregnancy, it made him dizzy. He couldn't help it, he needed to see your flushed face, hear your moans of pleasure. Heizou had always enjoyed sex with you, but pregnancy made you so needy that he lost control…

It was so good to feel your hands in his hair, your body pressed against his with only your hips swaying on his shaft. Heizou loved breathing in your perfume, tasting your skin, having your little round belly against his stomach and your voice so close to his ear... Unable to take it any longer, Heizou helped you speed up the pace of your back-and-forth, making you cry out his name. He wanted to feel you cum, to have your walls tight around him. Heizou licked hungrily at your neck, grunting against you as he savored the tension rising in your abdomen, indicating that you were nearing your climax. And when, at last, you freed yourself from that merciless knot, squeezing his member in sweet, pleasurable torture, Heizou released into you. His heartbeat echoed in his ears as his hand tenderly caressed your back, murmuring soft words against your neck, feverish kisses wetting your skin.

Heizou will help you wash, towel and dress, taking you back to your room to rest... Until the next round.

"I'd really like to start a family with you, Y/N."

That's what he'd said to you one night, as he cuddled you in bed after a session of passionate lovemaking. How could you refuse him? You felt ready, and so did he.

A month later, when you were suffering from persistent vomiting and exhaustion, Lyney decided to take you to see a doctor as a matter of urgency. How could he not be concerned, seeing you in this state for over a week? And why didn't Lynette seem more concerned about your condition? He didn't have time to ask himself these questions. Your health was all that mattered to him...

"Congratulations, you're pregnant." declared the doctor with a big smile. Lyney, sitting beside you, remained silent, his eyes wide with surprise, unlike yours, which had a smile stretching to your ears.

As you left the practice, you walked quietly through the streets of Fontaine, Lyney at your side. He hadn't said a word since you left the office... And that began to worry you. Did he regret it? "Lyney... ?" Whereas up until now, your gazes had fled each other, you put aside the fear knotting your stomach to confront him... And then, as you turned to face him, you saw them... His tears streaming down his cheeks... "Lyney! Why are you crying?! Don't... Don't you want this child?" Suddenly he took you in his arms, embracing you warmly as his face hid in the hollow of your shoulder. "Y/N... I promise I'll do anything to make sure our child has a wonderful life! I swear it! I'll take good care of him. Both of you. You'll never want for anything! *snif *. Thank you, Y/N. I love you, mon amour. I love you so much." It was your turn to cry, the pressure knotting your stomach disappearing with his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Yes, you were going to build your own home. A home filled with joy and happiness...

Lyney would be surprised to see you so clingy with him. To tell the truth, it was usually his job to be clingy. You didn't want him to leave your side or take his hand away from your skin... Pregnancy made you very emotional, and only Lyney's smell, his presence, his warmth comforted you... He never complained, and to tell you the truth, he loved it. Receiving free hugs or feeling you curl up around him like a koala when you slept always made him smile stupidly.

He'd obviously let Lynette and Freminet know, although both seemed to have already guessed your condition... He was happy to see his family accept your pregnancy with such joy. His sister and little brother were very close to you and, like Lyney before them, promised to do everything in their power to make their nephew's/niece's life a wonderful dream.

Lyney would bend over backwards to meet your needs. Pregnancy made you very greedy and your desires were sometimes... Wacky. Why were you suddenly craving a bowl of soba, a dish that was only served at Inazuma? No matter! He would learn to cook it to please you...

When you became pregnant, you and Lyney were just engaged. Seeing that your belly was getting rounder, Lyney thought you'd look gorgeous in a wedding dress. And he wasn't wrong... On your wedding day, when he first saw you in it, the harmonious curves of your belly making you even more sublime, he froze in front of your beauty. You were beautiful, as bright as the sun, as soft as spring, as gorgeous as the rainbow rose. He could hardly believe that this incredible being would not only be his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"Lyney!" Your husband gasped as he heard your angry voice calling his name. Your mood swings had been quite hazardous since your pregnancy, and your husband's slightest misstep sent you into a tizzy. "I told you not to leave your magic accessories lying around the apartment! I'm not asking you for heaven!" Lyney was quick to apologize, immediately putting his things away. After that, he always knew how to make amends, kissing every part of your face, massaging every sore spot on your shoulders, whispering words of love to you.

He loved to make you sit between his legs, tenderly caressing your belly to feel his child against his palms. He loved having you against him, your hands resting tenderly on his to guide him to the places where you felt the baby move. The first time he felt it, he marveled as children do at his magic tricks. He wondered if he knew that the hands on his mother's belly were those of his father, or if he recognized his voice... And you were sure he did, because every time Lyney spoke to him to tell stories, your baby seemed to react, bubbling in your belly. "Hey, mon petit ange, do you know how Daddy managed to seduce Mommy? No ? Then let me tell you a story~... It all started with a rainbow rose..."

Since you were pregnant, you had learned to knit. Lyney was silently raving behind the back of the sofa where you were sitting, humming a few nursery rhymes while you finished your work. Leaning back on the backrest, his chin resting on his arms, Lyney admired you with loving eyes, listening to the sound of your voice while you remained oblivious to his gaze, too focused on the little socks you were lovingly knitting. At that very moment, Lyney felt blessed by the gods... You were a true blessing in his life.

At times, Lyney was filled with doubt. His childhood had been miserable, he had never known the love of a parent, only the cruelty of Men. The hearth had given him and his sister a home and a family, but even so, Lyney hadn't had a childhood. Would he really be able to give his baby a happy childhood? Would he be able to preserve his innocence? He had promised himself to be strong, as a husband, but also as a father. He often discussed this with you, exposing his darkest fears. You were his light, always finding the right words to illuminate his darkest thoughts.

You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, and the contractions were becoming more and more present. Lyney, tormented by your suffering, stayed by your side, keeping you upright and helping you breathe deeply to ease the pain. As soon as the contractions subsided, Lyney took the time to help you sit up, then took care of your belongings. You were close to delivery and it was out of the question for you to take care of anything while he was around. The midwife was already aware of your close contractions thanks to Lynette, and Freminet kept an eye on you, occasionally refreshing your sweaty forehead. As soon as he was ready, Lyney called a carriage to take you quickly to the Fontaine maternity hospital. It had, quite literally, become a family affair...

Although the birth lasted only four short hours, Lyney was heartbroken to hear your cries of pain. The pain on your face made him lose his mind, and even though your hand was crushing his, he paid it no mind - after all, his pain was nothing compared to yours. All he wanted to do was encourage you and pray for the best... He was scared... Although Fontaine's technology ensured that pregnant women were well cared for, tragedies could still happen. Finally, when he heard the baby's first cries echoing through the room, he allowed himself to breathe. Crying his eyes out, he kissed your forehead several times, hoping to convey all the love he felt for you. "Bravo mon amour, you did it. You've done it. I'm proud of you..."

The first time Lyney saw his baby in your arms, his eyes would fill with tears, bellowing how beautiful he was and how much he looked like you... Almost hesitating to take his baby in his arms, Lyney trembled as he became aware of the reality of this being so small, so fragile... His child. Stars shone in Lyney's amethyst eyes as a happy smile stretched his lips. Gently, he placed a kiss on his baby's forehead, promising that he would always be by his side and do everything in his power to protect him.

Lyney will be an exceptional father. He will look after his child with care and tenderness, using his magic tricks to make his child's eyes shine with joy. As he promised, Lyney will do everything to make your life beautiful. He was a loving, caring, funny and magical father and husband...

Bonus NSFW:

You heard the sound of a door closing, indicating that Lyney had just returned from his magic show at the opera. Abandoning everything you were doing, you rushed to the entrance to find him... No one. The living room perhaps? You quickly made your way there, finding your companion slumped in the armchair, admiring with a gentle smile the stuffed animal he held over his face. You had knitted it for your baby, modeling it on the amethyst-eyed cat he camouflaged in his top hat... Gently, you approached Lyney, gazing at his beautiful, moonlit features. When he finally noticed you, his face lit up as he lovingly whispered your name. His hand reached out to you, inviting you to sit on his lap. Your heart palpitated, happy to accept his attention. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him all day, or maybe pregnancy and its hormones were making you feel unbearably lonely. Whatever the case, this sense of urgency led you to him at a run, your fingers curling tenderly around his.

"I've missed you, mon amour." Lyney helped you settle astride him, wrapping his arms around your waist. The warmth he radiated as he pulled you firmly back against his chest made you want more....

"I missed you too..." You whispered back to him, eager for his attention, wanting more than just a hug. You felt insatiable, on the brink. It had been weeks since you'd been thrilled by him, though the look in his eyes made it clear he wanted to claim you... Was it your belly that was stopping him? Had he built a wall between you and himself to prevent him from giving in to his deep-seated desires? Yet when he saw the need in your eyes, Lyney languorously moved one of his hands up to your hair, tracing a slow line down your back to your neck before following the path of your jaw. Once he reached your hair, he gently grabbed a tuft, bringing your face close to his, your lips brushing lightly against his. Aaaah~ You could already feel him hard against your groin…

"Y/N, if you look at me with those eyes.... I don't know if I could hold it in... But I don't know if it's wise for me to make love to you in your state, ma chérie... Tell me to stop if you don't want it to get out of hand..."

Grabbing his shirt, you closed the distance between you and his lips, kissing him with need, your hips pressing a little harder against his erection. You needed him as much as he needed you... Now!

"I asked the midwife about it... She said it was safe..." You murmur against his lips before diving back into your kiss. That man was so weak under you...

Lyney took the time to prepare you with his fingers, encouraging your hips that moved sensuously to the rhythm of his hand working you languorously. Your companion always went slowly with his foreplay, starting first with teasing caresses on your clitoris before inserting a finger then two between your walls. His thumb, which was not devoid of agility, massaged your swollen nerve, almost making you moan loudly into his neck. Lyney was never silent during your intercourse, even when he wasn't yet sheathed inside you, he felt a torturous pleasure just by hearing the sounds you produced under his ministrations... Your belly had taken on a few curves with the pregnancy, and Lyney took a malicious pleasure in caressing it with his free hand, whispering words of love to you.

"Y/N~ Seigneur... I love you, ma chérie. I love you both... When I think that you- Hm! - carrying my child... It drives me crazy! I don't know why- Ahh~ - it puts me in such a state!" His hips crushed your heart as he withdrew his fingers to unbutton his pants, freeing his painfully hard, engorged member. "If you weren't already pregnant, I'd make sure you were tonight!"

"Ly-Lyney!" You cried out in pleasure as he began to penetrate you inch by inch, making you tremble on top of him. It felt so good it made you dizzy.... Lyney clung to you, rocking your hips with his hands to help him reach the bottom. You were so tight around him that he was sometimes forced to stop to help you relax.

"Relax mon amour... I don't want to hurt you... Ah! You're tight!" When he finally reached the bottom, Lyney stroked your back limply, his face buried in the hollow of your neck. You were both panting, drenched in sweat and trembling. The clothes still on you were becoming suffocating and you had to pull away from him to get rid of your top and bra. As you did so, your eyes never left Lyney's, who mimicked your actions, throwing his own clothes away before pulling your face towards him. His tongue forced your lips open, tangling with need around yours. It was a sloppy kiss, fueled by the desire you had for each other. This simple fact made your lover far more needy, his member trembling inside you. No longer having the patience to wait, you slowly lifted your hips, leaving only the tip of his sex inside you, before moving back down to the guard... It was a languorous dance, where your breaths served as music. 

Lyney would move slowly, his member touching the deepest, most sensitive parts of your femininity. He'd manage to make you see the stars with so little effort, sometimes changing your position to sit in reverse cowgirl or simply tipping you gently over onto the living room table, legs braced on his shoulders as he sensually pounded you. Your pleas drove him mad, always asking for more... And by the seven, he loved it.

After your escapades, Lyney would make a point of carrying you to bed, cleaning you thoroughly with a warm towel and kisses lost on your skin. You quickly fell asleep under his gentle caresses, giving him the opportunity to whisper words of affection to your belly. His hands tenderly cradled your belly as he rested his head on it, feeling the slight movements of his little one.

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[evilvillain123456789]

i can't stop fucking old people. it's seriously a problem. their hearts can't fucking take it. they know i'll kill them. but they never say no. i travel city to city with each conquest. i log onto tinder and meet a girl. three chances a year... one for easter dinner, one for thanksgiving, one christmas. she takes me to her house to meet the family. the grandmother and i lock eyes from across the table. grandfather has passed. shes here alone.. sad.. we make eye contact for a while until she excuses herself, and i follow her. sometimes the deed is done right there in the bedroom, sometimes i'm given the number to her jitterbug, to return to her later. she makes me go in raw no matter what i suggest. i break up with the girl shortly after i've achieve sexual contact with one or both grandparents. i've no family of my own. that's true, that's always the excuse. i got a reputation that follows me. that's why i'm always moving. the grandmother often catches a VD from our little quickie. her weakened immune system. she passes away a few weeks later. some time before her time. or maybe just in time. god forbid, she invites me over. i sit in her little rocking chair as she speaks to me. that was her husbands chair.. she eyes me. my presence awakens this within her. i make her feel young again. she leads me to her bedroom. i have no reason to restrain myself, nobody will find us. she comes, then she goes. i clean her up as she grunts from the remnants of her heart attack, and leave her tucked into bed. she lays there peaceful, like shes asleep. that's when i lock the doors on my way out, and head to the next city. the next city, where i'll lay low until the next holiday season. start chatting up some chicks while i'm at it.. god, and the grandfathers. unlike with the grandmothers, they dont need to have lost their love to want me. they always cheat. they always want to use me as a tool to cheat. they look at me in ways their wives havent seen in years, and their wives see this. but their wives remain subservient. they always let him do this. they pray for him, but none of them pray for me. they hate me. they hate me so much. they know what i'm doing but refuse to make it stop. i lead their husbands away and kill them. they know it serves him right. i leave them heartbroken. but they'll never say a word. they'll never say a word about how an ugly little gay boy stole their man and now he's paid the ultimate price. and so have they. they seethe until their death. sometimes i swoop in on them too. silence them. they want me to silence them. but usually its too risky. after all, there are simply some secrets, that one must take to ones grave no matter what. i have nothing to gain from doing this. what i do is completely legal. all are lucid. but i feel as if i'm moving through a dream. i feel the earth around me shift as though i were asleep. i can't settle down. i can't fucking stop it. i want to stop. i want to find love. i feel so guilty. how many women fell in love with me, only to lose me. lose one or both grandparents and i'm nowhere near to comfort her. by the time it comes to mourn, i'm already long gone..

But yes, i suppose you can apply this to your fucking little tomgreg or harry styles or whatever. Yeah dude. You fucked that old man.