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valeskafics · 7 months

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"Revolution" - Modern Politician!Aemond Targaryen x Reader (AHS Cult AU)

Summary: Getting a job working Aemond Targaryen's presidential campaign is a dream come true. Or is it?

Word Count: 3,650

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT DUE TO POWER IMBALANCE, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, high heel kink, tiddy succin, oral f receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, spanking, office sex, aemond perving idk, aemond being weird

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Fire & Blood/House of the Dragon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

When you received the email confirming you were accepted as an intern for Aemond Targaryen’s presidential campaign, you’re not ashamed to say you shrieked into your pillow for a good five minutes before calling and bragging to the rest of your friends. Working on the campaign trail is every poli sci major’s wet dream, let alone on the campaign trail for the one and only Aemond Targaryen. Young, handsome, charismatic - he’s the entire package one wants in a presidential candidate. The man practically has a cult following of loyal supporters, lobbyists, and fellow politicians, all of whom believe he’ll make an excellent president like his father Viserys before him. Some try to cry nepotism when it comes to how he managed to become the Socialist Party of Westeros’ candidate, but as far as you’re concerned? The man has more than earned his place in the political world.

You still remember the day Professor Otto Hightower, your thesis advisor, suggested you apply for the internship. He said you had one of the brightest, sharpest minds he’d seen in his many years teaching at Citadel University, and that he believed you’d be a perfect addition to his grandson’s campaign. He wrote you a stellar letter of recommendation, as did Professor Lannister, both of whom truly believed you’d be perfect for the internship.

You walk into his campaign office, a spring in your step, wearing a black pencil skirt with an emerald green blouse and green high heels. Are you being a bit of a kiss ass and wearing the boss’s favorite color? Yes, yes you are. And you don’t regret it, especially when he passes by the desk where you’re doing your outreach phone calls and gives you the tiniest of smiles as he eyes you up and down. He even compliments your work, something your fellow intern, Floris, tells you is completely unheard of. Aemond usually delegates his older brother, Aegon, to deal with interns. But after you arrive? He’s always stopping by for a quick chat, asking what sort of projects you’re working on.

It isn’t long before he promotes you to the position of his personal assistant, promptly firing your predecessor, one Alys Rivers, who gives you the cuntiest look you’ve ever seen another person ever give your way as she carries her box full of personal effects out of the office.

You fall into a rhythm of arranging Aemond’s speeches, meetings, running his lunch, his drycleaning, making his coffee, everything. Floris jokes that the man is completely dependent on you. And you enjoy the attention. After all, you believe in the ideals Aemond stands for. His looks don’t hurt either, though you’re careful not to come across like a blushing schoolgirl. You’re in your final year at the best university in the country working on your thesis, after all. You’re here to be taken seriously.

But it’s hard to keep your resolve when he looks at you like he does, like a starved predator seeing its next meal. As you enter his office, bright and early as usual, his gaze moves to your legs, taking in your exposed calves, down to your feet in those pretty emerald green heels. His lips turn up in the slightest hint of a smirk as he nods at you, accepting his coffee, beginning to drink it.

“Your 9AM is here, sir. Should I send him in?” you ask, glancing at your tablet, stylus poised to check in Aemond’s guest if he so wishes.

Aemond gives you a short nod, his good eye never once leaving you, standing up and adjusting his tie. You watch as his large hands move, unable to stop yourself from admiring the prominent veins on them, thinking to yourself that he must work out quite a bit to look like that. You shake yourself out of it when he tells you to show them in and nod with a “yes, sir” and turn away. As you walk away, Aemond’s eye runs over your body, taking in just how fucking delicious you look in that pencil skirt, the way it clings to your ass and thighs like a second skin. He lets out a low hum of contentment before running a hand through his hair, waiting patiently for you to return.

When you come back, you lead in none other than the most prominent lobbyist from the Riverlands, Larys Strong, owner of Harrenhal Enterprises. Aemond doesn’t have any fondness for the man, but knows he needs to win over some of the big corporations to get adequate funding for the campaign. Larys is quite rodent-like, if not in appearance then in mannerisms, he notes. Larys tries to speak to him about his mother, mentioning cryptically that they go way back. Aemond resists the urge to punch Larys in the face as you pour the rat a cup of coffee. Larys’s eyes travel along your calves to your feet, sitting pretty in those high heels. Aemond frowns at the way Larys licks his lips at the sight of your feet, quickly dismissing you. You give your boss a grateful smile and hastily make your way back to your desk outside.

Well after the meeting is over and Aemond has secured the support of Harrenhal enterprises, you knock on his door, poking your head in, “Can I get your lunch order, sir? It’s nearly half eleven.”

He looks up, meeting your eyes and nods, “Just a salad with grilled chicken like the one you got me yesterday, thank you.”

You enter his order, tapping away at your tablet. Aemond chances it and lets his good eye roam your cleavage, admiring the Seven Pointed Star pendant that’s nestled between your breasts. So you’re a nice, sept-attending girl, he muses.

“You’ve got it, sir, anything to drink?” you ask before handing him a file, “And here are the polling numbers after your speech last night.”

When you lean over to hand him said file, it’s like he can hear the whole hallelujah chorus at the view of your tits that you give him. He drags his gaze up to your face and clears his throat.

“Just a coffee. You know how I like it.”

Aemond watches the sway of your hips as you walk away, listening to the tell-tale clacking of your stiletto heels. He feels uncomfortably hard in the Armani trousers he’s wearing and thinks to himself how nice it would be if his pretty little assistant helped him out with the problem as he looks over the documents you’ve given him to review. Polling numbers are at an all-time high, he observes. He also appreciates the little flags and notes you’ve put into the document to optimize his next speech, giving an amused smile. An overachiever, desperate to please. Oh, he can definitely work with that.

He decides to take a second look at your personnel file. Political science major from Citadel University, top of your class. Young. Eager. Hungry. A big supporter of his policies. A slight smirk plays across his lips. You’re just perfect for him, and for what he needs from you. Having you on his side is certainly a bonus, and he’s considering letting you in on everything, especially if it involves getting you and that cute little ass of yours into his bed.

Around twenty or so minutes later, you return with his lunch, a bright cheery smile on your face as you place the bag on his desk, “Here you are, sir. Straight from the Neiman Marcus restaurant as requested.”

He nods, taking it from you and murmuring his thanks, glancing at your breasts again before requesting, “Can you close the blinds? The sun is giving me a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, of course,” you acquiesce, moving behind him to close the blinds, bending over slightly to grab the remote for them.

Aemond’s gaze trails down your back, admiring the curve of your ass as you bend over, thinking how he could just grab you and have his way with you right now. And you’d probably thank him, sweet little ingénue that you are. He takes a bite of his lunch, still keeping an eye on you.

“Your dry cleaning is going to be delivered around 2PM,” you inform him, checking your notes, “And you still need to sign off on the speechwriter’s paycheck. I have it here.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he watches as you preen at the term of endearment, signing the check and handing it back to you, letting his fingers linger over yours.

Gods, your hand is so soft. It would feel so perfect wrapped around his cock, touching him-

He struggles to remove the image from his head, instead asking, “I was wondering,” his voice is low, almost a seductive purr as he stares at you intently, “Do you think you’d be able to stay back for a little bit longer today? There are a couple of things I could really use your help with.”

And, of course, eager little thing that you are, you nod vehemently, “Of course. I’d be more than happy to help with whatever you need.”

What he needs, Aemond muses, is that pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Great,” he smiles at you before leaning back in his chair slightly, “Time for you to put those political science skills of yours to use and help me write something. Have a seat.”

You take a seat beside him as he instructs you, trying not to let your nerves get to you, “I’d be honored. What do you need me to do exactly, sir?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to draft a speech for tomorrow’s event,” he tells you, gaze trailing down to the exposed skin of your thigh as you cross your legs, “But I’ve found that I get distracted when I try to write it by myself.”

“Don’t you pay speechwriters for that?” you ask, a bit confused.

He chuckles, “Well, yes, usually. They’ve sent me several drafts of the speech, but,” Aemond pauses for a moment, leaning in to you as though he’s telling you a secret, “I haven’t been entirely happy with any of them. They’re just not… Passionate enough.”

You’re silent for a moment before speaking, “If I may, sir? I always thought your improvised speeches were the best. You’re so, as you said, passionate when you give them and it really shows that you genuinely care what you’re talking about.”

Aemond nods emphatically, “You see? That’s what I keep telling the speechwriters! They insist that they know what they’re doing but,” he trails off, “I just feel like those speeches are so clinical. They lack that raw emotion,” Aemond stares at you for a long moment before leaning in even closer to you and murmuring, “In fact, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of your impassioned words.”

You laugh nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m not that great at speechwriting. I’m more of an analysis and logistics type girl.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he replies, his voice low and smooth, eye moving along your legs as he looks you up and down, “So, can you help me with the speech? I’m desperate here, sweetheart.”

You take a shaky breath and nod, meeting his gaze, “Anything you need, sir.”

Aemond leans back in his chair again and gives you a little smirk, “Great.” He prints out something and hands it to you, his voice a low rasp as he explains, “I want you to read this and tell me what you think.”

As you read over the document, Aemond takes his time to admire you, watching as you bite your lip in thought. Gods, those lips of yours are fucking divine, especially when they’re painted red like that. Your lips would look so fucking perfect wrapped around him, eyes full of tears as you gaze up at him, choking on his cock as he fucks your mouth.

“This is for the steelworkers’ union speech?” you look up at him after a while, confused, “It’s so… Polished. No working class person will be able to relate to this. What were the speechwriters thinking?”

“I know,” Aemond nods in agreement, “It’s not real enough. I need something that people can understand. That they can feel.” You swallow thickly as he rolls up the sleeves of his Valentino dress shirt ever so slightly, allowing you a generous view of those damned forearms of his, “Can you help me with this, sweetheart?” Aemond asks, pulling your chair toward him.

Your heart thumps against your ribcage like a jackrabbit and you nod, “Well, we need to scrap all this political jargon. No one at the factory will give a shit about which big corporation is endorsing you or about lobbying overall.”

“You know your stuff,” he hums looking at the fabric of your blouse, how it clings to your curves in a way he finds entirely irresistible, making it hard to look you in the eye, “Make this something that will really speak to the hearts of the everyday man. That’s who I want to care for.”

He watches you as you work on the speech, your perfectly manicured red nails tapping away at the keyboard as you question him about the major points he wishes to address. He watches you work, the whole scene only making him want you more. And when he stands up to lean over you, caging you in, his chest against your back, he knows you want him, if that little shiver you let out is anything to go by.

Aemond steps back and takes a seat in his chair, watching you print the speech out and hand it to him, beaming proudly.

“My best work yet, if I do say so myself.”

“I’d say so too,” he gives you a lazy, sexy smile that has you weak in the knees. He puts on his glasses and reads over the speech, running a hand through his hair, looking over it with a critical eye, “I like what you’ve done with it, love. The language is clearer and the wording is so much more impactful.”

He practices the speech with you as his only audience member, and you are amazed at his eloquence and the delivery of the speech itself, so much so that you can’t help clapping as he finishes and telling him, “You’re an incredible orator, sir. Just as charismatic as Obama, if I’m being completely honest.”

Aemond smirks, the way you look at him with earnest admiration making him feel more aroused than ever, “You’re just stroking my ego, sweetheart.”

“Westeros needs someone like you,” you insist, “Someone not afraid of making tough choices.”

He chuckles, eyeing you up and down once more before questioning, “Do you think I can count on your vote then?”

“Of course,” you grin brightly, “I already mailed in.”

“Good girl.”

You shiver slightly at his words. Why did that excite you so much? And then? He reaches toward you, tucking that errant strand of hair that keeps getting loose behind your ear, allowing his fingertips to graze your cheek.

“You know,” he lowers his voice, “Practicing that speech got me all riled up. And I was wondering,” he whispers in your ear, “Can my good girl help me out with that?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look at the handsome, almost godlike man before you and nod silently. You gasp as he pulls you to your feet, and in one fluid movement, shoves everything off of his desk. That’s going to be a bitch to clean up later, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he manhandles you onto the desk so that you’re facing him.

“My good girl,” he coos as he presses a kiss to your ankle, up along your leg to your thigh, “Taste so sweet. Is that for me, love?”

You nod, watching with wide eyes as he hikes your skirt up to your waist and admires the pretty white lace panties you have on. He slides them down your legs, bringing them up to his nose and inhaling deeply, a sight which should not turn you on as much as it does, before putting them in his pocket. You let out a yelp of surprises as he pushes you to lay down on your back and buries his face between your thighs, hiking your legs up over his shoulder as his tongue delves into your pussy, moving in and out at a near furious pace. You whine pathetically as your hand wraps itself in his hair, tugging slightly, keeping him close to you, not that he has any intention of pulling away until you come all over his tongue. Aemond lets out a low moan at the way your stilettos poke his shoulders, his large hands groping and squeezing the flesh of your thighs as he alternates between suckling at your clit and lapping at your folds, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You feel the muscles of your abdomen getting tighter and tighter the closer you get, hips rolling against him as he rubs his nose against your clit, tongue moving in and out of you, tasting every part of you over and over and over until suddenly, you’re crying out his name and spilling yourself against his tongue.

Aemond pulls away to practically rip open your blouse, kissing your lower stomach, your navel, up to your breasts over the flimsy lace fabric of your bra. He makes quick work of that too, unclasping it and tossing it aside, cupping one of your tits while he takes the other in his mouth, rolling the pert bud between his lips, tongue ravishing it with attention, teeth grazing against it until it pebbles at his touch. You grab onto the desk desperately for support, letting out a sharp breath of relief as he backs away only to throw your head back against the wood as he sheathes himself inside you.

Aemond’s cock is long and thick and so veiny as he lets it drag against your walls, pulling out only to slap your clit with his cockhead. You let out a whimper that just makes him want to hear it again, so he repeats his action again, then again, laughing at how pliant and desperate you are under him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, “Desperate for my cock, hm?”

“Yes, sir,” you nearly sob as he pushes inside you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You let out a cry as he lets a light slap land against your clit, “Watch your language, pretty girl. Want you to keep being a good girl and let Daddy fuck you.”

You nod breathlessly, back arching up off the desk as Aemond fucks into you with an intensity that’s almost too much to handle. He watches as your breasts bounce with every thrust of his hips against yours, admiring the way his cock disappears in your folds, the noises of lust that escape your lips.

“Come on, beg Daddy to fuck you,” he growls, increasing his pace, thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing slightly.

“Please, Daddy, fuck me,” you mewl, legs wrapped around his waist as he snaps his hips against yours, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you and making you let out a wanton sob of, “Yes, fuck! Right there, Daddy, please!”

He increases his efforts, admiring the way you stare up at him, eyes glassy with tears as he fucks you, mascara and eyeliner running down your face in a way that shows he’s completely ruined you. He chuckles, leaning in to press his lips to yours, tongue massaging yours before moving to nip at your jaw, then your neck, then down to your tits again. You feel yourself getting closer and closer until suddenly, you spill yourself for the second time.

Aemond gives you no time to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, instead, pulling out and flipping you over on the desk so that you’re bent over it and he begins fucking you from behind. You moan “Daddy, please” over and over as he hits you from this new angle, letting those large hands of his fly against your ass, admiring the way your flesh jiggles against his touch. He spanks your ass over and over, smirking at the way you moan at his touch, squeezing around him tight, bringing him closer and closer to his peak until he spills himself inside you, your own climax following soon after.

He stands up and adjusts his pants, helping you to your feet and smirking at the fact that your shirt, your hair, your makeup are all ruined.

“Well, now that you’re mine,” Aemond says, running a hand through your hair, placing one of his spare around your shoulders, buttoning it up for you, “You get to learn all about what’s really going on here.”

Aemond beckons you to follow him and pulls a book from his bookshelf, a secret passageway opening that he pulls you along into, the bookshelf closing behind you. You follow Aemond on shaky legs, still unsure of what’s happening until you get to a dark room, lit only by candles. There are hundreds, no, thousands of people down here, all dressed in black robes, their faces covered, as they wait for Aemond to stand at the podium before them, you by his side. They applaud fervently at his arrival and Aemond just smirks, gesturing for them to quiet down before grabbing the microphone and speaking.

“Thank you, my loyal followers, for coming. The time for our revolution is almost at hand. I am about to win the election and it’s all thanks to this girl,” he takes you by the hand, “I introduce to you the goddess of your new Westeros, my future queen.”

Oh. Shit.

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depravitycentral · 4 months

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Enji Todoroki General Yandere Profile

Yandere! Enji Todoroki x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, power imbalances, financial trapping, mentions of physical/domestic abuse, mentions of non-con, sexist undertones, Enji wants you to be his cute little housewife, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, a few mentions of making sure you eat enough/food, Enji is patronizing whoo boy, he makes you share a toothbrush and yes he's weird about it, this is set in a divergent timeline where Enji and Rei are formally divorced and his relationship with his family is loose and not super tight, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Kind

Enji is, simply, harsh.

His quirk, his mannerisms, his attitude, his everything, really, is a bit rough around the edges, forming a man with only enough self control to get what he wants. He’s lived his whole life bitterly, constantly jealous, constantly wanting, willing to throw everything away in order to achieve his goals.

And once everything starts caving in around him, his family and career both taking unexpected turns, Enji finds himself so, so painfully alone. He doesn’t pretend to delude himself into thinking he’s not deserving of his fate, but this places him into a position where he shoulders the guilt while desperately trying to find any outlet to forget it.

And this is where a darling who is kind comes into play – he needs someone who won’t judge him for his past. He needs someone who doesn’t treat him like scum, who is still polite and empathetic to him and his emotions. A darling who is able to consistently praise him will have him smitten quickly, growing emotionally dependent on hearing their sweet words in order to function, in order to not let the depression and stress get the better of him.

And even once his obsession has formed and he’s deep in the depth of his infatuation, a darling who is just too kind to kick him to the curbside is absolutely essential for him – they must be doting and caring, helping rebuild his shattered confidence and psyche, and with every compliment they dish out, Enji vows that he’ll return the sentiment tenfold, in his own way of course.

(This means buying his darling millions of yen worth of their favorite things, all kinds of wonderful gifts that he hopes will sway them in his favor, that will get them drooling over him and all that he can provide for them.)

Hardworking

Although he’s in a mental state that leaves him much more susceptible to finding a partner once he divorces Rei, Enji is still a picky man. He won’t fall for just anyone – no, they must fit his standard, be acceptable and meet the rather long and detailed checklist he has for those he considers as potential romantic partners.

And near the top of this list is determination. He’s a man motivated by his own goals and is willing to stop at nothing to achieve them – and so, a darling that can at least somewhat match this aspect of his personality is critical.

He has no patience for a darling that gives up easily; he wants someone that’s willing to put in the effort to see it pay off, someone who understands the concept of self-discipline and holding yourself to certain moral standards.

He finds it wildly attractive when someone has strong character, and his interest would immediately be piqued with a darling who brings an attitude of perseverance and hard work into every aspect of their life, be it work, their hobbies, their relationship, and everything in between.

He wants someone who is perhaps not quite as stubborn as him, but is still serious in their goals.

(He hopes that one day, making him happy and pleasing him will be one of these goals – just as pleasing his darling is one of his own. And he’s more than happyto please them in whatever way they so desire. More than happy.)

Motherly

Because he views his darling as the perfect wife, his darling absolutely must possess at least somewhat of a motherly air about them. He likes the idea of having a nurturing partner, if only because he finds it endearing when they care for others.

As a hero he shares this sentiment, and although it may sometimes be overshadowed by his need to become the best, deep down inside he does very much wish to help others – his methodology is just a little more violent, a little more overt.

His darling, by contrast, should prefer a methodology that’s much gentler, something that focuses more on making others feel safe and heard and cared for.

Besides, Enji very much desires to have children with his darling; to build a second family, one that he’ll care for and nourish much better than his first. And so, if his darling is to be a good mother, they must embody these traits.

Besides, although he doesn’t fall for his darling because of his fantasies of making them a mother, once the feelings are formed these daydreams only further his feelings, deepening his obsession because oh, he’d give absolutely anything to see them pregnant with his child, carrying his seed, creating something that symbolizes the love and dedication between them.

And so, his darling needs to be someone who naturally takes care of others – and in return, Enji will take care of them. Just how it should be.

Pushover

This trait is a bit less crucial compared to the others, but it’s still most definitely a positive from Enji’s perspective.

Of course he likes a darling who has strong opinions and stands up for them, but he loves a darling that will let him guide them through any hard decisions, or really any decisions at all.

Although he’s not as outright controlling with his darling, he still very much feels that he wears the pants in the ‘relationship’, and thus he is the one calling the shots.

A darling who is happy to let him take over their life like this is a massive help to him – he doesn’t have to fight for control, nor does he have to argue with them about why certain decisions really should be made by him as the more dominant partner, as the one who knows more about the world, as the man. It’s an outdated view and it’s one that he doesn’t really want to admit out loud, but he enjoys the idea of a partner who will revere him and allow him full control.

He wants to be loved and cherished, and in return for a love like this, he’ll do his best to provide for and take care of his darling in every way he possibly can – so really, if his darling knows what’s best for them, they’ll step back and let him make all the tough decisions.

They’ll nod and smile and agree with whatever he chooses, pressing a kiss against his cheek and telling him how much they trust him, how they know he’d never hurt them, how he only wants what’s best for them.

Just the thought makes something warm swell in his stomach, the level of trust making him feel wanted, needed, a concept so foreign that it almost feels wrong. But oh, how he likes it.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Controlling

But in a very, very strange way – a lot of what fuels Enji’s obsession is this desperate, innate need to right his wrongs. He’s very, very aware of how thoroughly he ruined his family, how horribly he treated Rei, how he was a poor excuse of a father and husband, and he sees his love with you as almost being his second try. With you, he can do all the things he should have done with Rei and his children – he should have been sweet and loving, a present father that cared about each of his children equally. He should have been a doting husband, spoiling his wife and making her feel loved and desired.

But he didn’t, and although Rei has long since divorced him, Enji finds himself feeling lonely, incomplete, restless to try again, to properly provide for a sweet little thing he can call his own. And this is where you come in – and from the moment he realizes his feelings for you are more than a simple attraction, he dives in head-first.

He decides he'll approach everything with you in a way as opposite from his previous marriage as possible – he's all grand, romantic gestures, always showing up with a bouquet of flowers in hand and just the slightest pink tint on his scarred cheeks.

The grand, romantic gestures are, of course, merely things he’s seen in rom-coms; the women always look happy when the love interest swoops in with flowers and gifts and pretty clothing, the beaming smile and large hug the man gets as a reward seeming very, very appealing to Enji, despite his rigid exterior.

(Just the thought of you hugging him has his heart racing – it’s something so intimate, so entirely new that it makes every nerve in his body stand on edge, a shiver running up his spine as he imagines the way your body would feel pressed against his, how you’d sigh and sink further against him, how you’d squeeze him and god, the view he’d get when he looks down to see your body pressed so tightly against him that not even a breath of air could separate you -)

He’s scouring through women’s magazines, burying his nose in the glossy pages and searching for ideas and clues as to what women enjoy as courting gifts.

(He has to scoff under his breath every time he sees a new dieting tip or regiment, internally frowning and worrying that you’re seeing these ads and potentially obsessing over your weight. The last thing he’d want is for you to be unhappy with your body – certainly not when he’s so very happy with it. Not to mention the nutritionally heinous foods the magazine recommends – he’d sooner have you eat raw paper than follow this ludicrous advice.)

He’s even caving and very, very awkwardly asking his female sidekicks and employees at his agency about their tips on how to seduce a woman. He struggles to make eye contact with them when he asks, his imposing figure almost reminding them of a shy, nervous teenage boy with the way he’s so earnest about his question, his eyes lighting up when they mention an idea he hasn’t tried yet, pressing them for details and specifics and you must tell me what to say to her – how does one follow up gifting a puppy?

It would be sweet, really, how devoted he is to making sure that you’re absolutely spoiled, that you get a whole variety of lavish gifts designed to sweep you off your feet. It would be wonderful, really, except that Enji has never understood the concept of being too much – which is how everything will start to feel very, very early on in this process.

It was nice at first to receive a fresh bouquet of roses every morning at your desk with a handwritten card attached. (Written in impeccable handwriting, the cursive letters looping and elegant as they spell out short, simple, sweet messages signed with a capital E at the bottom, reading please make sure to eat enough today and that skirt looks lovely on you.)

It was nice at first, but after the second week of daily bouquets and even a few finding their way to the doorstep of your apartment, the sight of the pretty red flowers makes a sinking feeling swirl in your gut.

(Enji notices this, dismayed and frustrated by your lack of a positive response, and decides to double down and just gift you bigger flowers, because maybe your lack of joy at receiving the bouquets is because they aren’t big enough, aren’t grandiose enough, aren’t good enough.)

It was nice to get the cute, small stuffed bunny on your desk one morning, and you’d even grown so fond of the little thing that you perched it on the edge of your desk, assuming it was a one-time gift. But it wasn’t – the stuffed animals kept coming, getting bigger and more detailed and much, much more expensive, you’re sure.

(Enji is careful to remove each and every price tag on every gift he sends you, simply because he doesn’t want you to feel that you owe him financially, nor does he want you to be swayed into accepting him as your partner by mere economic standing – that’s an asset that you’ll come to know, of course, but he’d rather lure you in via more traditional ways. It doesn’t exactly stay secret, though, because once the necklace with a delicate array of at least five diamonds in it arrives at your front door, your secret admirer’s wealth becomes very, very difficult to hide.)

He’s gifting you jewelry with more precious jewels and gold and silver than you could possibly wear, and outfitting your closet with all kinds of dresses and skirts out of materials and cuts you could never hope to afford for yourself.

(And, of course, they’re all tailored to fit you perfectly – how Enji managed to get your exact sizes is still a question that haunts you, one that makes you scared to upon the nicely wrapped boxes that you find in excess outside your front door.)

It’s all just too damn much – Enji is suffocating with his attempts to woo you, his every gift and gesture leaving you feeling uncomfortable. What he’s trying to do is very, very obvious – and it feels wrong. He’s the number one hero, a busy man with much more important things to be doing – so why is he going after you? And why with such ferocity?

His forwardness will scare you off, driving you to avoid him and grow suspicious of his motives, and Enji does not like this development. This wasn’t supposed to happen – you’re supposed to want him, to be seduced by all of his efforts, to be swept off your feet and swooned by his gifts and words (delivered with the grace of a garbage truck, of course, but the sentiment is there – even if looking at your pretty face distracts him, all the words leaving his head and making him stand there gaping like a fool).

Enji doesn’t like it, and so he presses harder, stepping up the frequency and volume of his gifts, only effectively pushing you further and further away from him as you grow more uneased and unsettled. And if you were to confront him about it?

Well, this is where his controlling tendencies come into play – denying who he naturally is can only last for so long, and despite being a man with superb self-restraint, the moment that Enji feels you’re slipping from his fingers he’s morphing back into the man that commands your every move.

Suddenly he’s no longer presenting you with the newest shampoo you’ve been talking about (it’s salon grade, the best stuff out there, and much too expensive, but not for Enji – nothing is too expensive for him when it’s for you) but rather letting this expression wash over his face, one that you’ve never seen before.

It’s cold, remarkably so; his lips are pressed tightly together, his brows perfectly straight, those eyes lifeless as he tells you to stop fighting, go inside and change into the green dress I gave you last week. We’re going for dinner, and you’ll order the house salad and a slice of chocolate cake for dessert. Do you understand me?

It’s weird and unexpected and scary, and it’ll have you immediately stuttering out a yes and scurrying inside, too frightened to disobey. And really, while Enji winces every time he does this, eventually he finds himself trying to justify it as simply ensuring your relationship will last.

Obviously it’s not good that he has to force you into these small, minor, inconsequential things (like going on a date with him or letting him accompany you home afterwards), but this is different from with Rei – you want this, right? You’re just too shy to tell him how flattered you are about all the attention he’s giving you.

You’re just playing coy, acting on your age-old feminine instincts to make men chase after you, to be demure and make your partner work for your affection and love. And eventually, Enji will convince himself that this is different, he’s wooing you and getting you into a relationship with him willingly – you want him.

You practically love him already – things are going well. They’re successful.

They have to be.

And so, while Enji doesn’t mean to be controlling, the end results is that although he plays the nice guy that spoils you and gives you anything your heart desires, at the end of the day he is the one in charge, and he is the one dictating your relationship.

And really, what can you do to stop him? He’s strong, both physically and with the general population – one word from him and you’d be hunted for like a madman, ostracized from the community, brought back to him like a pup to its owner.

You belong with him, and it’s his job to make you see that – even if you want to remain blind.

Possessive

Enji Todoroki doesn’t share. Once he decides that he wants you, you become unequivocally his.

Sure, he wants to do things a bit differently with you and get you to harbor more loving feelings towards him, but from the moment his infatuation forms you don’t really have a choice in the matter.

You can pretend like you do, if it makes you feel better (and it will, because at least you can pretend that you have even an ounce of control in the relationship, that you aren’t just some adorable little thing he’s decided he wants hanging off his arm and warming his bed), but at the end of the day you’re subject to Enji’s whims.

And although Enji lets you harbor this fantasy of your relationship being truly consensual, the moment something occurs that threatens it, his true colors are shown. Namely, when he thinks your attention is veering away from him, his jealousy and anger become difficult to keep in check, his quirk acting up and letting off small sparks and flames all along his body. His fists clench and his jaw tightens when he sees another man around you, and although he tries to rationalize that the man likely doesn’t want anything to do with you, just simply being in your presence is enough to make Enji suspicious.

Even if the man isn’t talking to you or acknowledging you in any way, he’s anxious – he’s scared that something about this man will attract you, that you’ll somehow find him better than Enji.

Maybe the man is friendlier – Enji’s aware that he isn’t exactly the most approachable person on the planet.

Maybe he's funnier – Enji knows he can’t crack a joke to save his life.

Maybe he’s a better conversationalist – less formalities and awkwardness, able to get you laughing so hard you snort.

It makes Enji’s skin crawl, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s fisting his hands, and before long he will intervene. He’ll grab you as gently as he can on the elbow, guiding you carefully but quickly away to the other side of the room and physically maneuvering so that his body is blocking your sight of the man – and more importantly, blocking his sight of you.

He’ll try to talk with you, trying to distract you and get your mind off of the other man, all in an effort to get your attention back on him. He’s reminding you that you have him, that you don’t need some other man, that you already have one who’s capable of providing for you and caring for you as you deserve.

Frankly, he discovers just how deeply his feelings for you run in a situation where jealousy gets the best of him – you’d been approached at a small gathering by a man from another agency who was clearly hitting on you. He was leaning in close, smiling with a smarmy smirk and nursing on his cocktail like a lifeline.

Enji had noticed the two of you out of the corner of his eye, and immediately he’d gone stiff. He couldn’t stop staring at the way the man kept getting gradually closer to you, how he kept leaning in further, how his hand slid from his pocket to your shoulder, then your arm, down to your hand and oh, oh god, it looks like he’s bringing it down to your waist –

Enji had been by your side in mere moments, his gaze card and harsh as he’d stepped in front of you, making some poorly toned excuse about needing to speak with you for a moment, before unceremoniously dragging you away from the stupefied man.

From that day, Enji absolutely refuses to allow anyone close to you. And really, can he be blamed? After all, he fell for you, so why wouldn’t anyone else? You’re beautiful and caring, smart and dignified, and if he can see your potential as a lovely, perfect little wife, surely others can too.

And so, Enji ramps up his controlling tendencies the more he’s presented with situations where the green-eyed monster accompanies him. And this control takes its main form through financials – that is, while Enji originally didn’t want to attract you to him via his material wealth, he decides it’s a necessary evil in order to have you staying by his side only.

He starts ‘forgetting’ to peel off the price tags of the gifts he gives you, pretending not to notice how your eyes practically bug out of your head when you unbox the pink pendant he’d bought for you.

He starts inviting you out for lunches and dinners more often, ordering for you and choosing the most expensive items off the menu despite your numerous pleas that you’ll opt for something – anything – cheaper.

(It’s frustrating, too, because as angry as you want to be at him for ordering for you, he always chooses something you end up liking – of course it’s because he’s done extensive research and stalking, finding out your favorite foods and what flavors you dislike, but it all seems like one large, awfully strange coincidence to you.)

Exerting financial control over you keeps you complacent, because the guilt you’ll feel at how much money he’s sinking into you will have you following his every word, even if it his commands are a little strange and off-putting – like spending less time with any male friends (or really any friends for that matter) or slipping the small photograph of him into your purse (it’s weird and you do so hesitantly, making sure the polaroid is at the bottom of the bag – and trying to ignore the way his muscles are oh-so fucking defined in the tight black shirt he’s sporting in the photograph).

It’s all just a big ploy to keep you from running off with some other man – but really, if you somehow did manage to do that, Enji won’t be particularly merciful. He will be cornering the man as he leaves your apartment and he will be holding him by the neck against the cold concrete wall, threatening him to leave you alone or experience the rather unpleasant sensation of burning alive.

It’s not particularly heroic, but Enji doesn’t care – he can’t, not when the threat of you leaving him for another man is very much present and real. It’s too scary, too much for him to handle – it would mean you rejecting him, his second fuck-up in love, and the loss of someone who fits absolutely every one of his desires in a woman.

You’re too perfect for him to lose – so instead, he’ll own you.

Dependent

He will never admit it, but there’s this part of Enji that grows stronger day by day, every time he sees your face, that tells him in the most raw, real way that he absolutely needs you.

He’s essentially lost what he had of his family, and with the sharp uptake in responsibility as the new number one hero, the new symbol of modern peace, Enji finds himself turning to you in his time of need, in his more vulnerable moments.

Because really, though his exterior is tough and jaded, he’s only human – he too needs someone to love, someone to hold and latch onto, and latch he does. You’re his, and he expects you to understand that even if he doesn’t verbalize it.

He cherishes your very existence, each and every thing you do, finding you to be remarkably weak yet remarkably endearing, your inability to defend yourself simultaneously adorable and frustrating. He needs you to realize that you’re his everything; his whole reason for living now, even if he doesn’t give you many clues into this.

He isn’t the best at expressing his emotions, and although the love and desperation he feels for you is constantly overwhelming him, overflowing from his chest and making him dizzy, he doesn’t articulate just how deeply these feelings run.

Of course he’ll tell you how you’re beautiful, or that you’re my responsibility to protect, but he’ll also say significantly less romantic things like how you belong to him, how he's never letting you out that front door, how he’ll never let those disgusting, filthy villains touch something as perfect as you.

He thinks it’s sweet and exactly what you want to hear, but it’s not – it’s scary and strange and weird, but these are your biggest clues as to his dependence on you.He won’t tell you, but his expectations for you are honestly monumentally high; he wants you to be his perfect little wife, everything that Rei wasn’t, and this includes giving you every ounce of his love.

He wants you to be diligently cooking him hearty meals, keeping the house tidy and clean for the two of you, to be massaging his shoulders while he relaxes from a stressful day at work. (Hell, he even wants you to wear cute little aprons, collars with his name stitched onto them, those maternity/breast feeding bras before you’re even pregnant…)

He wants a domestic fantasy with you, and this extends to other, more vulnerable things as well. He expects you to embrace him as he walks through the door everyday returning home, to give him a light peck on the cheek and ask about his day, to let him hug you from behind and kiss your neck as you slave away over the stove.

He never really got the chance to do such loving things with Rei (not that he particularly wanted to), and as a result he honestly feels like he’s having to make up time, that he needs to be taking every single ounce of affection and love you can possibly give him, and he’ll feel no guilt at all.

He won’t outright ask you to cuddle him, but when he sits on the large, overstuffed leather couch and stares at you expectantly, you’ll quickly learn to run over to him and snuggle up into his side, to bury your face into his chest and wrap your arms and legs around him even if his body heat cooks you alive.

He won’t ever explicitly ask you to give him those fluttery, soft morning kisses he’s seen all the time in terrible corny rom-coms he religiously watched for inspiration while trying to court you, but the moment you smile sleepily at him and press a kiss against his lips while you holds you close in the morning glow?

God, it’s in those moments that he wants to give you absolutely everything he has – every part of his body, soul and heart, every single cent he owns, every piece of fame and fortune he’s ever amassed.

Enji just wants to please you, and although he comes off as an odd mix of demanding yet generous, terrifying yet strangely awkward, inside his heart is hammering against his ribcage every time you so much as smile at him, every time you so much as look at him. In the hazy afterglow of a round of passionate morning sex (in which you’ve realized that fighting will get you nowhere – it’ll only earn you an Enji that’s more frantic and desperate to get you moaning and crying out his name), when he latches onto your smaller, exhausted and sweaty body, pressing you as tightly against him as possible, sometimes his demeanor will crack.

He’ll lean down to deeply inhale the scent of your hair, to watch the way your chest rises and falls, and he’ll whisper in the softest of voices that he loves you, you’re the light of his world. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you, but Enji is hellbent on never finding out – after all, there is no chance of escape with him, and he’s sure you’ll learn your place soon.

After all, pretty, submissive girls like you always do.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Enji is, regrettably, terrible at hiding his jealousy.

He’s always been in a constant state of envy, whether it was vying for the top spot in the heroing world against All Might, desiring the perfect offspring in order to have the Todoroki name and himself live on, and countless other examples. He’s prideful and so fucking jealous of everyone around him, and this is only heightened when it comes to you – his possessiveness over you is nothing to sneeze at, and the minute he feels that your attention is threatened, that you could possibly be yearning for another?

He’s wasting no time stepping in, mercilessly shutting down each and every opportunity you could possibly have of being with anyone other than himself.

As much as he’s loathe to admit it, his jealousy and possessiveness stems from a place of insecurity; he’s aware that he’s by no means the perfect partner, and he rationally knows that you could do much, much better than him.

And so, as a sort of panic-induced response, Enji decides that you simply aren’t allowed to interact with any other men – this way, you aren’t presented with the opportunity to even let the feelings form. And he’s diligent with this theory, too – he’s always standing near you, acting as your shadow with watchful, hawk-like eyes trained on your figure.

He’s never been the best at reading people, but he’s able to tell from miles away when someone approaches you with intentions that are less than innocent, and immediately his lips are thinning, his brows furrowing, his entire body temperature raising by five degrees because you’re his, and this piece of scum disguised as a man obviously doesn’t realize this.

He’s your guardian angel in many ways (though really, he takes the guardian portion much too far – even men who have no romantic intentions with you are viewed as potential threats, shooed away with a vengeance that will make them too afraid to even think about you without imagining themselves engulfed in flames), though at times it will make you feel more than a little patronized.

It’s as if he doesn’t trust you – you don’t really have a relationship, at least in your eyes, but you know the number one hero wants something more than friendship with you. And so, you do your best to avoid evoking his anger and wrath by not romantically involving yourself with another man – and yet that’s not enough for Enji.

It can’t be, simply because as pretty and sweet and smart as you may be, Enji will always know better. It’s a controlling tendency and a mildly sexist view, but he thinks of you as his doting, loving housewife-to-be, and it’s the man’s job to make these sorts of decisions.

You’re just too sweet and outgoing for your own good – you’ll get mixed up in all sorts of trouble if you’re not careful, and lucky little you has someone like Enji to watch out for you and make sure your pretty head has nothing to worry about. And so, Enji sticks to you like glue, warding off potential suitors with grueling stares and a presence and reputation too strong to ignore.

Enji’s day had been long, and one of those days that made him seriously question his abilities as a hero. A villain had managed to trick him, and although Enji had of course eventually arrested the perpetrator, his deception had led to a lot of wasted time and more damage to surrounding buildings than was acceptable.

His head was pounding, his body still feeling overly hot from all of the fighting, and though not normal, he’d decided he was done for the day and left the rest of the agency’s calls to his sidekicks. Leaving early had felt almost freeing in a way, the world looking a bit different with all this extra time – walking down the sidewalk, Enji scanned the windows of each shop he passed.

As per usual, you’d been on his mind all day – flashes of your face sitting just behind his eyelids, your name just a hair away on his tongue, the feeling of your phantom touch sending shivers down his spine. It was irritating, distracting, heavenly, and with each window he passed, he kept an eye out for anything you might like.

He’d gotten you a pretty tea cup set yesterday, and although you’d been hesitant and visibly uncomfortable at receiving such a gift (the set was very, very obviously expensive, the marbled china too perfect and pristine to have costed anything less than a year’s worth of your salary), Enji was eager to gift you something that would be received better today.

Streets passed by, nothing quite suiting his vision for what you deserved – he’d need something more subtle today, something simple and sweet and something he knows you like – The confectionary is small, with swirling black letters over a baby pink banner spelling out the name of the store. The windows are lined with all sorts of chocolates and candies, all wrapped up in pretty, ornate packaging that makes Enji immediately pick up his pace, practically storming into the small shop.

It smells like vanilla and sugar as the door shuts behind him, and although it makes him wince, he knows you’d love it. Shelves nearly as tall as him line the shop in narrow rows, displaying all sorts of sweets that he’s never heard of before – caramels, gumdrops, chocolates, lollipops, anything and everything under the sun.

He’s only been in the store for roughly five minutes, staring at a collection of truffles with furrowed brows and a downward curl of his lip when he hears a small laugh over the gentle, happy classical music playing quietly over the speakers. Immediately he’s perking up – the laugh sounds familiar; the lilt of it, the tonality, the soft intake of breath right after it stops.

His lips part, eyes going wide, and before he can even really control himself he’s rushing towards the source of the noise, his entire face growing warm when he sees you – you’re at the register, a few candies sitting on the wooden slab, your purse in hand as you fish for presumably your wallet.

You look gorgeous today – you’re wearing a shirt he’s never seen before and your favorite pair of jeans (the ones that make your ass look so, so very perfect – perfect to squeeze at, to grope and touch and smack and press himself against…), and although he’s briefly disappointed that you aren’t wearing an item of clothing that he’d gifted you, he notices the clerk all too soon.

The clerk – Hyoshi, his nametag says – is smiling at you. He’s all teeth, a grin that makes the hairs on the back of Enji’s neck stand up, his nostrils flaring because you’d been laughing, and it must be this man’s doing. This man, who’s visibly weak even under the ridiculous confectionary uniform he’s sporting – arms that couldn’t hope to lift even a fraction of what Enji can, a chest that isn’t ruggedly defined like the hero’s, and a stature that’s frankly pathetic compared to the frame of the redheaded man behind you.

Enji’s angry, and as the man opens his mouth to presumably say something else (potentially something that’ll make you laugh again), his words die on his tongue as he glances behind you to see the behemoth of a man who’s quite literally acting as your shadow.

His eyes widen and immediately he’s stuttering out a w-welcome in, Endeavor! At that, your shoulders go stiff, your mouth parting into an adorable little ‘o’ that Enji can practically see in his head, and you slowly turn around.

Oh, hello Endeavor, aren’t you normally on patrol right now?

Enji’s jaw works, and although a small part of him is pleasantly surprised that you’d remembered his patrol shift, your words only serve to further frustrate him. You knew it was his time on the clock – and yet, you’d still ventured out into the heart of downtown, completely on your own, defenseless except for the measly, very sad pepper spray you keep in that worn purse of yours – both of which he keeps pleading with you to let him replace.

(He’ll get you new pepper spray and a taser and a pocketknife, just because he knows how dangerous these streets can be, and with your pretty face and your pretty body he’s sure villains would be lining out the door to get a taste of you. And of course, the new bag – he’s bought you plenty, in a wide variety of styles and colors, each gift getting more and more desperate to be the one you finally deem as being good enough to use, but alas.)

Enji doesn’t even bother with a greeting, instead stepping up to the counter, slamming down his credit card and stepping in front of you. I’ll be paying for her sweets. His voice is cold, firm, and sends the clerk into a scurry to process the transaction, meanwhile you’re staring in mild shock from behind the hero.

Of course you’re not surprised – how can you be, when he insists on spoiling you in every possible way? And yet the raw animosity he’s radiating right now can’t be ignored – you get the feeling as if you’re somehow in trouble, though you can’t figure out what for. As soon as the card reader beeps, Enji’s scooping up the card and your sweets, his thick fingers wrapping around your wrist just barely too tightly and marching out the door, telling the clerk over his shoulder to keep the receipt.

It takes every bone in his body to not turn back around and swing at the man behind the counter, his eyes shutting tightly in concentration as he tells himself that it’s not worth it, the media will find out, your reputation will be damaged. But as his eyes peel open and he realizes the way you’re squirming in his grip, he only sighs and releases you, those teal eyes of his appraising you with a frown.

You’re feeling guilty again, unsure of yourself as you gently rub your wrist, and for a moment Enji feels regret – did he hurt you? He hadn’t meant to, he’d just been angry and it was already hard enough to not harm the man who’d made you laugh, and surely you’d understand that he didn’t mean to –

You break the silence before he can voice his concerns, clearing your throat and thanking him in a meek voice. Enji merely nods, a small grunt your only response as he begins walking again, your sweets – and your purse – firmly in his hands, just so that you won’t have to carry them.

When you don’t immediately follow him, Enji pauses, looking back over his shoulder with a brow cocked.

What? Follow me – we have dinner reservations this evening, at that new seafood restaurant by the harbor. Fuyumi tells me it’s quite good; order the crab legs and the caviar.

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone, and for a moment you just blankly gape at him, the situation too strange for you to really process.

But all too soon his eyes are narrowing, and you’re practically tripping over your feet to follow him, keeping your gaze cast downwards as Enji’s hand rests on the small of your back, guiding you even though there’s not a civilian in sight on the desolated sidewalk he leads you down.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Honestly, Enji is complicated as a yandere; there’s a part of him that knows that there are aspects of his relationship with you that mirror that of his previous marriage. He knows that although you may not be treated as terribly (and that you have more purpose to him than simply an incubator), you’re still trapped, essentially a slave to his will.

And yet, as time passes and his dependence on you grows stronger, he can’t help but justify his actions, deciding that yes, you may be stuck with him, but at least he spoils you rotten with your favorite foods, expensive clothing and jewels, an unlimited supply for each and every hobby you may have. He may have you trapped between a rock and a hard place in terms of leaving him, but at least he genuinely loves you - he aches to spend time with you, to hold you in his arms, to feel your heartbeat against his ear, your lips against his, your body writhing below his.

He’s convinced himself that this time is different, that you’re different, and as such he eventually decides that it’s really in both your best interests to just relocate you, to get you officially by his side. It’s really paranoia that drives this decision – he’s a working hero and a man with many, many enemies, and so it’s really the only option that keeps you safe.

Stealing you away into his private home – he’s the sole inhabitant, aside from a cleaner or two, since moving out of the Todoroki household – is the best option for a multitude of different reasons. You’re safer this way – the state-of-the-art security systems he’s installed around the estate are the best money can pay for, able to detect intruders and any suspicious activity in the blink of an eye. Enemies don’t have much of a chance of getting inside, and even if they had managed to, Enji will be right there to burn them to a crisp for even daring to get close to his beloved.

And even aside from outside threats, keeping you trapped at home will allow him to keep an eye on you and make sure that you don’t accidentally hurt yourself – you’re ridiculously clumsy to him, your every action having him hold his breath slightly in anticipation, in fear that you’ll somehow trip or fall or bruise your pretty skin. Plus, this way he’ll know that you’re eating healthily and in the right quantities, that you’re getting proper exercise, that you’re relaxing as you should, that you’re spending adequate amounts of time in the interior courtyard he’d prepared in preparation for you.

(It’s beautiful, as loathe as you are to admit it – all kinds of flowers bloom along the walkways, bamboo and tall grasses and trees growing in neat lines and providing shade for the flowerbeds on hot summer days. There’s even a small stream flowing through it, the gentle trickling noise almost enough to cancel out the painful silence that exists between you and Enji when he decides to join you for your scheduled garden time in the afternoons – uninvited, as always, and yet still unable to sense how desperately you wish you’d get these times alone to yourself.)

Aside from your safety, keeping you in his home helps feeds into his domestic fantasies of the two of you – you’re so very precious to him, and from nearly the beginning of his obsession with you, he’s always viewed you as the perfect wife – specifically, the perfect housewife.

He’s a traditional man, believing in traditional gender roles, and although he doesn’t view you as being less-than based upon your status as a woman, he does expect certain things from you. He’s the breadwinner, the strong, capable one who provides you with a roof over your head, food, and any gift under the sun the moment you make even the slightest inclination of wanting it.

And in return, you’re to be his caring, nurturing wife – the one who keeps the house neat and tidy, a room dedicated to only cleaning supplies that you get always stay stocked and ready for you, should you become inspired and wish to fulfill this domestic fantasy of his. The cleaning products are all diluted down to a level that wouldn’t be dangerous if you were to ingest them – you’d get sick, surely, but it’s nothing a home-trip from a doctor who’s been sworn to secrecy can’t handle.

There’s also, unfortunately, a drawer within the room that a particularly bored you had one day opened only to immediately slam it shut. Dozens of cleaning outfits sat neatly folded in the drawer, the black and white getups looking much too tight and much too short. A few weeks later you’d returned to the drawer, bored out of your mind while Enji was away at work, peeling one out with careful and trembling fingers. And of course, to no one’s surprise, the outfit fit like a fucking glove – hugging your curves and accentuating them, the skirt full and flouncy and very easy to flip up, the bustline practically choking your breasts with how tightly the black cotton pressed them together. You’d changed out of it shortly after, the rather disturbing and shameful fleeting question of whether this was the type of thing Enji liked making you too disgusted, guilty, and bashful to really consider.

In his idealized domestic world, you’d cook for him, too, but it takes a very long time for him to trust you enough to not purposefully burn or cut yourself in the kitchen. He has daydreams about coming home from a hectic work day to see you standing over the stove in a cute apron, humming some song and lighting up when you hear the door open and close, his announcement of being home making you practically bounce on your heels.

He wants to have you cook for him, to see you slave in the kitchen putting every ounce of your concentration and time into making him a meal you know he’ll enjoy, but that fantasy has to wait for the time being – just until he thinks you’ve finally lost that rebellious streak of yours, just until you finally come to realize that you belong by Enji’s side.

And so, in the meantime he’ll have you make him small things that hold little potential for you to hurt yourself with – simple sandwiches with pre-sliced ingredients, so that you won’t cut yourself chopping tomatoes or slicing bread. He'll have you prepare a sandwich for him and one for yourself, too, ordering you to sit down at the dining table with him and share a meal – though the conversation is hard to come by, and each attempt he makes at starting it is only met with single word answers from you.

(Another domestic fantasy he harbors but would never tell you about is to have you sitting with him at the table, looking at him with those pretty eyes and your voice dropping to a sultry volume, your chopsticks bringing the food you diligently and loving prepared for him up to his lips, your tone teasing as you tell him to open wide! He’d keep eye contact the whole time he chews, never once breaking it as he tells you in that low, gruff voice of his that it’s perfectly done, the seasoning is impeccable. He wants you to be bashful, to smile and hide it with your hand, your lashes fluttering as you glance at him then back to the food again, too shy to say much but your body language showing just how much his praise effects you, just how good it feels to be the center of his attention, the apple of his eye, his absolute everything.)

He wants you to be his sweet housewife, and although he won’t force you into any of the work, it’s extremely obvious what he wants of you – he’s always telling you about when you get adjusted, how you’ll be more open to fulfilling your role.

When you’re more adjusted, you’ll be happy to iron his clothes; perhaps you’ll spritz a bit of the perfume he buys you onto his shirts, just as a reminder of you during his long days.

(As if he needs a reminder – certainly not, when you’re on his mind nearly every minute of the day.)

When you’re more adjusted, you’ll be pleased to see the positive pregnancy test in your trembling hands, your voice riddled with joy as you announce the good news to him, watching him drop the phone and keys in his hand and instead hoist you into the air, spinning you with a grin on his face so bright it nearly blinds you, concluded with a passionate kiss and a few tears on his cheeks because he just can’t fucking wait to have you as the mother of his child.

It’s all this talk of ‘when this’ and ‘when that’, but the strange thing about Enji as a captor is that he’s incredibly patient with seeing these fantasies come to fruition – sure, he may be forcing you into being a housewife just as he did with Rei, but this is different – you get a choice about some of it, unlike her. You don’t have to do the dishes, but you can if you’d like. You don’t have to bear his children, but you can if you’d like.

(And frankly, it’ll be hard not to – once your need for human contact and your strange, mixed feelings for him grow, you’ll eventually give into his requests for intimacy, and once the floodgates are open, you will end up pregnant from the sheer frequency and volume at which he pumps you full of his cum.)

All that being said, life as Enji’s captive will honestly not be too terrible – he’s still following you around the house like a shadow, but he’ll let you sleep in your own bed at the start, let you have your own bedroom and bathroom, and he won’t even force you into spending time with him at the beginning.

Because really, as tortuous and painful as keeping you away from him is, he repeats the mantra over and over in his head that eventually it’ll be worth it – eventually you’ll see things his way, and eventually you’ll come to see just how deeply his feelings for you run. You’ll realize that he’s only ever loved you, that he cares for you more than any other man possibly could, that he only has your best interests at heart – that’s why he always swung by your apartment at the end of his patrols, peering in at you through your windows, just to make sure you were safe and sound.

That’s why he kidnapped you, to ensure your safety and keep you in the arms of the only man truly capable of providing for you, just as you deserve.

That’s why he’ll never let you escape him, no matter how you beg and plead for your freedom – you don’t understand the outside world like he does. You think you do, but each villain he arrests is a nail in the coffin of your freedom – you have no fucking clue how dangerous the world is, and Enji isn’t hesitant to remind you of this.

You’re unhappy with him? Well, your options are here, in his warm house where he’s willing to give you every ounce of his attention, love, and touch, or out in the big, scary world where women like you are easy targets for men who love destroying easy targets.

So really, you’re in the best hands with Enji – he knows how to take care of you, and he’ll spoil you with every possible treasure you could want. What’s not to be happy about?

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Enji doesn’t ‘do’ punishments. Because he views his relationship with you as his second try at finding a companion, there is no part of him that actively desires to hurt you. He loves you, in some sick, twisted way that’s much too obsessive and desperate to ever be considered healthy, but it’s still love nonetheless.

And as such, Enji does genuinely want your relationship to be as wholesome and sweet as possible; he wants you to want him, to actively choose to spend your time with him, to want to be in his presence every moment of every day. He wants everything to be as perfect as possible – the idealized life, a life where he’s the number one hero coming home to his lovely wife who cherishes him and he cherishes in return.

And so, when you do something that doesn’t quite line up with this fantasy, Enji is understandably upset. Why can’t you just accept that this is your reality now? Why do you insist on fighting him, even when you know you won’t win? How could you?

He’s Enji Todoroki, Endeavor the Flame Hero, and you’re just you. You’re pretty, of course, and smart and sweet and caring, but you’re still just you. There’s nothing you can do against someone like him – which is why Enji is able to excuse your poor behavior most of the time.

He understands; it’s difficult to accept that you’re weak and powerless, and he understands that when you lash out and act out, you’re just expressing frustration and fear at being taken care of so wholly and completely by someone so much stronger than you. It must be scary, after all – Enji can be so intimidating and he knows it, so he’ll try his absolute best to calm down anytime his anger starts to flare.

The last thing he wants to do is harm you, and he wants everything in your relationship to be as different as possible from that with Rei – and hurting you in any way would too closely resemble his previous marriage, ruining the beautiful illusion he can live under with you.

And so, most of the time Enji is able to grit his teeth and shut his eyes, letting the anger subside by telling himself about all the wonderful things about you – things that always get him feeling calmer, that make the buzzing sensation in his head and the suffocating feeling of anger dissipate. Nine times out of ten, he’s able to calm himself down this way – and if that’s not enough, normally exiting the room and getting a breath of fresh air is enough. He’ll tell himself that he absolutely cannot fall into the same habits he did with Rei – you’re different, you’re special, and he’ll calm himself down as often as he needs to in order to avoid being seen by you as the big, scary man who will hurt you if you disobey him.

Thus, getting Enji angry enough to the point where he can’t simply calm himself down is actually quite difficult – generally, this involves you hurting yourself. Most other things he can twist into seeming not so bad, rather just being you not having adjusted to life as his woman quite yet. He can write off your escape attempts as you still clinging to this ludicrous sense of independence you seem so hellbent on keeping.

Attempts to harm him can be discarded as your misplaced sense of anger at your situation, because although in your heart of hearts he’s sure you’re happy to be in your natural familial setting (as the wife of a strong, capable man of course), you’ve confused yourself by trying to reject something that’s just so right.

Of course these events don’t make him happy, but they’re able to be disregarded – but when your blood is drawn by your own accord, even Enji can’t pretend this is something else. This is you purposefully trying to injure yourself, purposefully trying to show him that you aren’t happy, that you don’t want this – an idea that makes him panic, that sends his fists clenching, that gets him pacing and his mind racing as he tries to figure out how to set you straight without harming you. And so, Enji eventually decides that after he cleans up your injury, rather than simply hitting you

and physically showing you that he won’t stand for this sort of misbehavior, he has to be more restrictive with you. He won’t be so lenient for the days following your bad behavior – you won’t be so spoiled, your rights won’t be so freely handed to you.

You must understand that Enji is charge, and that he’s being generous and loving and kind by allowing you such free reign around your shared home. Really, he doesn’t need to be so generous – and he’ll teach you that an angry Enji is much, much worse than the normal doting, lovesick Enji you’re used to.

Enji is frozen as he opens the front door. He’d come home a bit early from running some errands, the groceries in his hand dropping onto the hardwood floors below him. His jaw is dropped a bit, the sight of your bright red blood staining your forearm making a wave of sickness wash over him.

Who did this?

Who could’ve hurt you like this? There’d been no security alerts while he was gone, and there was absolutely no way that you’d left the interior of this house in the two hours he was gone. In the next breath he’s rushing forward into the kitchen, by your side before you can even blink, paying no mind to the way you gasp and stumble away from him, as if you’re afraid of him.

It makes Enji’s chest ache, but the sight of your blood is too distracting for him to focus on the uncomfortable ache. Instead, he’s thrusting your arm under the kitchen sink, the lukewarm water making you wince ever so slightly as it runs over the wound.

Enji’s brows furrow as he examines your arm; the cuts are long, zigzagging in every direction in a way that looks strange, not like any normal attack pattern he’s seen before. This doesn’t look natural, either – not like a regular scratch, not like you just slipped and fell and had unfortunate luck. No, this looks like something else entirely – like something purposeful, like their appearance marring your pretty skin isn’t accidental in the least. It’s only then that Enji sees the glinting silver fork out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the edge of the counter with a bit of red staining the ends.

Immediately his body is freezing, his grip on your arm squeezing tighter as the gears turn in his mind. You must have…

His jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth, those blue eyes of his slanting over to look at you with such intensity and anger that you physically shrink in on yourself. His grip is too firm for you to pull your arm back, Enji absolutely unwilling to let you run away from this.

Did you do this to yourself?

His voice is surprisingly even, given the look on his face, and immediately you’re shaking your head, your entirely body paralyzed with fear. You’ve never seen Enji look this scary before – or at least not towards you.

Your answer only serves to further anger him, it seems, because soon he’s literally snarling, his face twisted up into this ugly look of rage that’s only heightened by the scar across his eye.

Don’t lie to me, I will always be able to tell when you’re untruthful with me. He pauses, taking a deep breath, his voice just the slightest bit unsteady. Did you do this to yourself?

This time you nod yes, tears prickling at your eyes and starting to spill down your cheeks, and at the sound Enji makes, they only flow faster. He looks like he’s in more pain than you are – his face is red, and a few flames lick up around his shoulders. The heat washes over you, and soon the begs are slipping off your tongue before you can help yourself.

Enji pays you no mind, every ounce of his self-control going towards not slapping you in the face for your blatant stupidity. Soon he’s letting go of your hand, stomping towards the small first aid kit he keeps in the kitchen, entirely silent as he carefully wraps your arm in bandages, not paying your rambling any attention or mind.

As soon as you’re securely bandaged, he leaves the room and you hear the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut reverberating throughout the house.

The rest of the night passes in a blur, with you somehow getting from the floor of the kitchen where you’d laid down and eventually fallen asleep all the way to your bed, with the blankets carefully slotted over your body.

Nothing seems to be amiss the next morning, your footsteps cautious as you approach the bathroom, your brows shooting up when you notice that the counter is completely bare – your toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash are all missing, as are all the expensive lotions and facial scrubs Enji normally keeps in piles for your convenience.

The kitchen is empty, too, you notice – the silverware drawer is completely empty, and there are no cups or mugs of any sort in any of the cupboards. It’s unnerving, and immediately you’re getting goosebumps all over your body, the air feeling prickly and cold, as if there’s something lurking that you don’t know about. Biting your lip, you make your way to the table, gingerly sitting down and trying not to jostle the bandages too much – the bandages that had been changed, you distantly notice.

A few minutes later, Enji joins you in the kitchen, his expression not exactly jovial, but not particularly hostile. He greets you as he normally does, before placing the mug you now notice is in his hand under sink. The sound of rushing water gets your mouth watering, not having realized how thirsty you were until this moment.

Wide eyes watch him turn towards you, making his way to your seated figure with slow, heavy steps that get your heart thudding in his chest. He stops right next to you, before telling you to open your mouth. Hesitantly, you do as he says, jerking slightly when his fingertips – always unnaturally warm – cup your chip and bring the cup up to your lips, the water cold as you’re forced to drink it.

Enji watches with neutral eyes, though you see the corner of his lip curl up slightly as you drink the entire glass, the pacing of the water flow nearly too much and nearly choking you. Soon it’s gone, and Enji uses his thumb to wipe at the corner of your lips.

Since yesterday’s little spectacle has shown me that you can’t be trusted with basic household supplies, let me know if you require another drink, if you’d like to brush your teeth, or if you’d like to wash your hair. You obviously can’t do it alone, so I will be joining you. Now, go lay down on the couch. I need to change your wrappings again.

You’re dumbfounded, watching him keep the mug in his grasp as he heads towards the living room. And though the threat seems too extreme, Enji means it – you only last a few hours before you reluctantly ask for another drink, your throat too dry and sore to go without it.

And that night, when you shamefully ask him for your toothbrush, you’re not particularly pleased to find out that he’ll be the one brushing your teeth, using his very own toothbrush to get the job done, just to make sure you don’t even think about trying to choke yourself with the brush.

(And when you finally have to shower, well, Enji’s face turns bright red when you ask, rushing to his feet much too quickly, grasping your hand and practically pulling you to the bathroom before applying all sorts of soaps and scents to the bath he draws for you. His breath is hitched as he turns around so you can change in privacy, but don’t be surprised to see him sneaking glances at your bare body beneath the water’s bubbly surface. Don’t be surprised when later that night you hear a suspiciously rhythmic thumping sound and muffled groans through the wall that your bedrooms share, the faintest wet, squelching noise accompanying them.)

And, roughly a week later when you wake up to the cups and mugs back in the cupboard and your shampoo back in the shower, you’ll decide against hurting yourself anytime soon. It’s not worth it – not if that’s how you’ll be treated; forced to ask permission for your basic needs.

And Enji couldn’t be more pleased – now you’ll think twice about using that fork again, or anything else for that matter.

(And he can still force you into using his toothbrush – under the guise of furthering your bond and intimacy, of course. And because he’ll use it after you, savoring the feeling of the bristles against his tongue like some sort of drug.)

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

Enji isn’t necessarily dangerous, but rather inevitable.

He’s a determined man, driven by motivation for his goals, no matter the methods he uses to get there. And once he sets his sights on you, deciding that he wants you, that he loves you, you’re certainly no different – he will have you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and really, what sway do you have?

He’s a professional hero, known in the public sphere responsible for saving more lives than you could ever hope to, and who are you? You’re just a pretty face, a woman who happened to have the exact set of traits and physical appearance that Enji finds desirable – you have no real way to combat him, and who would believe you, anyway? Enji is the new symbol of peace – as far as the Commission is concerned, he can have whatever the hell he wants, and if that one thing is some civilian, then you can kiss your freedom goodbye.

But really, all things considered, Enji isn’t too terrible – he’s trying desperately to right his wrongs, to love you in a way that prioritizes your happiness and is just better, and although you’re certainly not happy being trapped by his side, he can at least pretend like this is better.

He wants you to be his pretty little thing, to be his housewife and treat him like your devoted, loving husband. He wants you to greet him with a kiss on the lips when he comes home from work, helping him out of his jacket and asking about his day, then lead him into the clean kitchen where you’ve got dinner waiting for him, then join him in the shower and then the bed, letting his hands wander to where they please, then fall asleep on his chest, letting him feel like he’s protecting you even in his sleep.

Is that really so much to ask for? Enji thinks not – besides, isn’t that the dream for you?

All you have to do is let him take care of you, to spoil you with flowers and chocolates and jewelry and all sorts of things that make women swoon. You’ll be spoiled rotten, treated like a goddess, and all you have to do is let Enji make all the decisions for you, to let him take control of your life and your future – it’s better this way, he promises.

This way, you’ll be properly cared for, kept safe and secure and comfortable by his side. You may not see it yet, but Enji is sure this is really what you want – you’ll come around eventually, he’s sure of it.

And if you don’t? Well, at least he’s not a monster, right?

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere enji todoroki #yandere endeavor #_lee's profiles #_enji todoroki #_bnha #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader

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ystrike1 · 6 months

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Twisted Love from My Coworker - By Starling-chan (8/10)

A delusional yandere. This one is maxed out on crazy. It's kind of a shock that he can function normally in society. He believes he's dating his cute subordinate, but they're not even friends. She snaps one day. She tells him to stop giving her gifts. To stop being so creepy, and he steals her away. It's scary.

Aoi is a cool, capable and handsome guy.

He's kind too. It doesn't seem to be a mask, but Ichino can't handle his flirting. He's too bold. He doesn't just compliment her.

He says he's her boyfriend, as a joke(?) The joke goes too far. It starts to scare her. He knows her favorite drink...and things about her family too. At first she just thinks he has an inappropriate sense of humor, but it doesn't make sense. He's unfailingly polite to everybody else. Why would he make up such a weird, elaborate joke with her? When she clearly doesn't find it funny??? They're not close enough to joke. They're subordinate and manager. Ichino can't complain, because she doesn't want to be branded a troublemaker at work.

They both live nearby.

She meets Aoi when she's out on a date. Her dates keep abandoning her. He's stalking them too. Ichino thinks she has bad luck in love, because that would be crazy.

Aoi is just joking. There's no way. Why would her boss systemically ruin her life and future?

He planted microphones in her house.

He also thinks she is neglecting him. Aoi genuinely believes they are already dating, so his feelings are hurt.

When Ichino keeps rejecting his date invitations he gets worse.

His mental state crashes.

He's still sweet.

He loves Ichino. She's the best girlfriend. He's kind of inexperienced. He started going to the gym, and taking care of his looks, to impress her. He successfully won her over!!! She blushes when she sees him!!! They're in love!!! Ichino is really inconsiderate though!! How can she hang out with other men alone, when she has a boyfriend!!! Who is being sorely neglected!!!

Why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WHY?????

It gets worse.

Ichino knows her photo is his lock screen picture. He's not hiding it. He's delusional. Ichino thinks the joke has gone waaaayyyyy too far, but she likes her job. Aoi is actually a really competent and talented businessman. Ichino has lots of friends in the office.

She's willing to put up with the jokes until he gets bored.

It sucks because this is the perfect office. Ichino has known some of these friends since university, and she's super good at her job. Life is great.....but the girlfriend jokes make her extremely uncomfortable. She avoids being alone with Aoi, but it keeps happening.

He always finds her.

He gives her a really expensive gift, for no reason. He just wants attention. He'll use money to get it. He thinks his beloved is mad at him. He shows her that he cares about her health, down to the smallest detail.

It also comes with a GPS feature, usually used for children and teens.

Ichino snaps.

They have one sweet moment.

Ichino gets drunk. She wakes up in a car. Aoi is driving her home. She's grateful. He does always take care of her, and she admires his work ethic. She thanks him, for being such a good coworker.

He has a key.

To her house.

She can't believe her eyes when he opens her door for her. They argue again. She can't pretend its a joke anymore, and he kidnaps her. It's implied that they start dating because of the manager/subordinate power imbalance.

#Twisted Love from My Coworker #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended

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yashirix · 1 month

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•ESCAPISM: Yandere Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

Synopsis: Filled with curses and betrayal, Satoru Gojo realizes he is far from sane. Linking his six eyes on a young sorcerer who captivated him, the ‘chosen’ one makes foolish decisions. She's petrified.

Slow burn?

Warnings: Age Gap, Power imbalance, Satoru Gojo is his own warning, Manipulation, Top Satoru, Gore, Delusional sorcerer, Explicit content?, Comedy, Bad humor, Reader is a little too strong, we love a badass female character. Characters might be written a little ooc.

Part 1/Introduction of Escapism.

_____________________________________

Satoru Gojo was far from sane; the sorcerer knew so himself. It felt rather isolated due to the absence of his best friend. His one and only at that.

A fragment of his facade vanished when Geto tagged along, for Gojo found solace in being able to express himself and his weird interests to someone who wasn't as strong as him. Yet, Geto always acknowledged him as human. Their friendship of Yin and Yang once so unbreakable, was no more. It's no longer present; it doesn't exist because his best friend's deceased. It crushed him into a state of despair.

No longer would it be the same anymore. There was no one in the world that could ever replace their friendship and experiences altogether. Especially since there was no one around to help him stay mentally sane. After all, the world of Jujutsu is both a lie and a curse, it sucks the living daylight out of your soul, like a repulsive leech waiting for its next course of meal. It leaves once it's satisfied from hunger- and filled with vital fluid. When will the strongest ever feel protected?

Silly question! Satoru Gojo should know better than to have hope in a world full of fucking misery.

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Becoming a teacher was no different. He was now 20- as handsome as 'ever' stated by his fangirls who came up to him during the days he went out to buy kikufuku in his casual attire. It felt suffocating at times when being complimented for your appearance only- yet it only built his ego farther than a normal being. He wasn't really necessarily human after all. If anything, it felt eccentric.

The sorcerer never had a girlfriend even after putting thought into it. He was also still a virgin. Of course, he did look at sexual magazines once in a while, but it felt sickening to touch someone who could never understand him as his best friend did. He wanted to feel genuine love in a way- it was pitiful. The least he could was get complimented by women who easily latched themselves onto him.

However, Gojo was insecure. He felt unloved and unworthy of finding someone compatible for him. Maybe he should try one night stands? maybe that'll knock some sense into him. Was sex good? ew probably not. He mentally grabbed those thoughts and walked towards the trash can where he flung them. The sorcerer needed to get a hold of himself.

He'll stay a virgin as long as it takes.

__________________________________

Or NOT. Satoru Gojo finally caved into his intrusive thoughts at the age of 21 and did one night stands like it was some sort of hobby. The females were and felt like nothing to him, but the sensation of release felt like euphoria for at least a couple of seconds. He could go for various rounds- but his fuck buddies would pass out not so long after the second round. He needed a far better release. Of course, he'd lie about feeling satisfied afterwards and let them stay at the hotel for a couple of days payed straight out from his pocket- as he strolled back to Jujutsu High.

The second way of Gojo's reliefs was to cry himself to sleep. His tears felt pathetic- for there was no one in the world who would take their time to cradle him and ask if he was doing alright. He was tired of living like some sort of puppet- entity whose position was to only rid the world of curses every damn hour and moment of his existence. Killing the higher ups might've miraculously appeared on the bucket list.

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YOU paved your way around the supermarket and the cashier aisle. It felt euphoric being able to stroll around the area; grasping both vegetables and items that would relish in your cooking skills of perfect seasoning. Well, not really... in reality the food you made was edible but somehow you ended up burning eggs in a matter of seconds no matter how much you watched YouTube tutorials. Cooking was a hobby- yet you managed to either add a lot of salt or so little.

One time, you cried out of frustration and threw a tomato across the wall, but it bounced back and somehow managed to knock you down with a thud. You loathed tomatoes after that. It wasn't your fault- it was the intimate objects for being... well intimate!

You were stupid sometimes. Being 16 was not a pain in the bootiehole, because you wanted to stay young for as long as it takes. Having to pay taxes sucked and you wanted no part of it. Instead, you found solace in being able to enjoy yourself with some free time by killing curses. Yes, you still had your parents, but they were on a brink of divorce. Your mother lost love for your father after he cheated 8 years ago and finally broke down once she couldn't bear it anymore. She wanted nothing to do with your father even after he remade himself for the better. You loved him for that.

Nevertheless, it hurt. It hurt seeing them like this because there was nothing your meekly hands were able to do. You couldn't cook a divorce- well obviously not! that was impossible. Consequently, you spent some afternoons looking for curses and exterminated them with a slap to the face. It felt sort of peculiar being able to only see them yourself, but you were convinced your mother could see them as well. There were times where you saw her bat an eye directly to a curse, for she raised her finger and with perfect aim and-

BAM

The curse would instantly disintegrate into ashes. You admired her from afar, and wanted to shout at just how wonderful she is, but you couldn't. You were hiding under the dining table at the time. Well, at least you had evidence that she's also powerful! talk about beauty and strength.

The way you exterminated curses was concerning. You felt pitiful for having to slap them, but throwing a punch would be more harsh, so out of respect, you slapped them and placed a flower where they once stood. However, one curse was quite literally more vicious than the other and attacked you from behind, but you placed force on your leg muscles and flew upwards doing a backflip and gently kicked the curse onto the busy road. It was enough to kill them, for you were glad you somehow had a special case of "pinkie" senses. However, you still felt guilty. There were also times where you started flying midair and felt a sense of 'divine' energy flowing through you. It was natural, only until you tried flying like Superman doing the pose but instantly fell face flat to pavement. Ouch.

So many unwanted circumstances led to a higher curiosity of wanting to understand just what was going on with you and your family. Keeping it a secret is simple, but one of these days you'll unexpectedly start floating midair when eating- in a perspective that would make you look like you got possessed by Annabelle. 'Hilarious' you'd think.

Sometimes you'd wish curses would look like a handsome demigod sent from the Greek heathens above. Sculpted magnificently scrumptious where you'd go on your knees and beg for mercy. When in reality, you'd ask to touch their waffle chiseled abs and then open your arms where you'd find peace in being mutilated by a hot male. You needed serious help, but it's not your fault- it's the hormones! anyone would be fathomed and down horrendous below the trenches.

You made friends throughout the years, especially after accidentally bumping against a male by the name of Yuji Itadori. He was very handsome, for you speculated for him to be around your age. It was the start of your friendship with one another. He was just as sweet as the taste of Ferrero Rocher, as you exchanged phone numbers with one another. It has been only a week after meeting- as you hopelessly developed a crush on him rather quickly. The way he messaged you concerned on what you've delt with throughout the years- and the way he gave you a hug when hanging out brought a sense of appreciation and admiration for the salmon haired boy.

He was someone you could quickly confide in and have a picnic with. It felt safe when he held you close, for he too felt rather close to you. You hoped you stayed friends and grew old together- and just maybe you'd be able to open up to him and explain how you can easily exterminate things you'd call "curses." Surely enough, you were convinced that the start of your friendship would end in marriage- where you'd own 3 hamsters, 6 dogs, 4 cats, and a turtle named Jeffrey. Itadori agreed on the animals but not marriage- because you wouldn't tell him. Not yet! you guys just met and your 16, you both were too young.

You hope nothing would get in the way of your friendship. Yuji was a sweet boy, and he secretly adorned you as well.

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A/N: Whew. That took a little long to write, but it was enjoyable! I hope the first chapter is to at least one persons liking. I wrote this on my feels as my grammar isn't good since I don't really proofread. It's my first time publishing a story LMAO. I apologize, the reader is a little stupid because I based her off myself at some moments. But she has her cool moments don't worry. The first chapter is just an introduction, so there will be dialogue. If there is confusion Gojo is 21 and Y/N is 16. This is purely fiction so Gojo is a delusional creep as the story progresses. That dude has some attachment issues even I’m scared.

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dungeonpuppykai · 14 days

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|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'.

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break!

Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit.

Until now.

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire.

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him.

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no.

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime.

The man could swear he was going crazy.

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact.

It was just the effect she had on him.

If there was anyone to blame it was her.

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter.

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose.

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to.

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing.

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more.

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more.

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers.

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh.

Of course.

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had.

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck.

He was going to tear her apart.

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her.

Mind, body, soul… heart.

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered.

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane.

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes.

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible.

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain."

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him.

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered.

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing.

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine.

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose.

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly.

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger.

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?"

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower.

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day.

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment.

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin.

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot.

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise."

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists.

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further.

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin.

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant.

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her.

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat.

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy.

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes.

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before.

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?"

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!"

She was breaking his fucking heart.

It was officially official.

Abel Ford Syverson was in love.

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love.

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse.

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew.

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right.

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder.

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?"

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There.

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one.

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest.

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts.

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side.

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment.

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards.

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond.

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last.

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock.

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already.

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler.

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew.

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner.

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds.

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?" She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh.

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming.

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this…

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled.

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take.

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what.

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure.

A lady that he had found at last.

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already.

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety.

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased.

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter.

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought.

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone.

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink.

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please."

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha."

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

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thebottomfromhell · 10 months

Note

I hope that's ok, but could you write about the Upper Moons and their partner, who is their opposite? I just love the couple dynamic where "opposites attract". If you don't want to write about it, it's okay, in any case, have a nice day and mood!💞

Thank you 💞, I hope you like what I wrote. Since I didn't know if you wanted any specific Uppermoon... I did all of them (the adults), lol. Sorry if it's not what you wanted and that it took me some time. If asked something more specific I can go into more detail, but I hope this will be enough for the moment. Opposites attract is a lovely dynamic if done correctly so here is my attempt.

Opposited attract, human gn reader.

Warnings: A bit of Manga spoilers, Power imbalance and Mentions of cannibalism (both are mostly them refering of how they have to be careful with you), Some erotic themes implied, Kokushibou's and Gyutaro's insecurities, Akaza's angst, and Karaku will moan to annoy you (like the moaning while the other is on the phone type of context).

Kokushibou:

You are such a free-spirited and free-minded person.

Kokushibou can't forget how fragile you actually are, being a human, so he never acts upon it, but he can't help but envy you. "Koku-kun, calm down. The world won't die if the hierarchy does for a few minutes. Don't worry that pretty head of yours." He is so cold, but you warm him up as you are patient with him and try to get him to stop getting frustrated over the smallest things, like Akaza and Douma fighting or remembering his human life. "Don't call me that." He protests, but still lets you do as you please.

You are patient, tolerant and understanding, you don't hold yourself. He wishes he could be more like that and less like himself. There are times he just wants to push you away, for you to disappear, to stop reminding him what he isn't. But at the same time he craves having you by his side, to chase after you.

In the end he just stays by your side in silent, watching you be that beautiful self. "C'mon Koku, just relax. We are ok."

Douma:

You are very mature, specially in emotional intelligence.

Douma can't help but notice you know how to respond to everyone's feelings. You are very empathic and can easily deal with yourself without hurting others, not that Douma would know anything about being hurt. Still, you are very weird to him. Even when he teases you (and he can be cruel at doing so) you only take a deep breath. "Douma, please stop. I'm not standing those comments, they are hurtful and I will leave if you don't stop."

"Alright, alright. I will stop." It's not that he could not stop you from leaving, but it's weird how you handle the matter. You don't just barely tolerate unlike his followers and Gyokko, nor ignore him like Kokushibou and Muzan, much less attack him like Akaza, the Hashira and technically her. But this is not about her. It's about you. "Thank you for listening." You are honest but willing to compromise at the same time you stand for yourself in a respectful way.

You are just a human, like any other he could just eat you, but he doesn't want to. He wants to understand first. How? Why? That makes him always want stick around you. "Hey, Y/N. How about we go to my place? That would be lovely!" But he doesn't show it besides acting like he does with everyone else. Because Douma is bad with feelings.

Akaza:

You are always growing, not only physically, but mentally.

It scares Akaza, to be honest, how you are constantly transitioning and changing. "I just decided to try a new hobbie, might like it more than what I do in my free time now." If he looks away a more than a month you already changed your rutine, already have a different favorite things, and learned so much it changed your worldview. And for Akaza is a bit hard to keep up with it. "I have buyed a few more books, I will read them whenever I have time." Not also this, but you are aging, like the human you are.

"Become a demon, Y/N." He always tells you, afraid that one day you will not be there. Or worse, that you will but he won't be able to recognize you. Because you are always moving on, and he is stuck. Stuck as the third Uppermoon, stuck as a demon, stuck as a servant of Muzan, stuck in his hatred, stuck in the feeling someone something should be here but it's not, stuck in the need to bring up medicine something, stuck in his desesperation to get stronger to save them. But you don't become a demon, you will die, you will leave him behind too.

You always comfort him, and he stays close 24/7. He's afraid and can't let you go. "Please don't leave me behind." It's hard to convince him you won't, but still, besides you he is very happy. Sometimes he wishes you could get stuck with him, but he won't force to anything. "I'm here, Akaza." For now.

Nakime:

You are a humble sunshine! No, really, you smile as if both your wallet and mind were empty.

Nakime doesn't know what the heck she likes about you. You are lovely, she can easily admit that, but that's it? Still, she lets you around, you watch with awe her castle, wanting to touch everything, to explore everything. "Nakime-chan! Your house is the one of an empress!" You always compliment her for everything.

"You are also very impressive." She tries to answer that good vibes, it's bit hard to her. You don't mind it, you are fine with how little she gives. There is also the fact that you talk a lot and she can't keep up with that. "Nakime-chan, it's not necesary for you to compliment me. I know it doesn't come naturally to you. Just being around and you teaching me all this greatness make me so happy already."

But she loves being around you, she lets you explore but keeps an eye on you to make sure you are not hurt. She relaxes against the positive energy you bring to her home as you wander around or join her to talk to her. This is fine.

Hantengu:

You are brave and honest, always facing upfront everything. A natural leader.

Hantengu admires you a lot, but he also finds you quite intimidating. Everytime you are around he hides and covers himself, which is a bit cute with how nervious en embarrassed he is, but you always manage to find him to talk. You share yout thoughts and feelings easily and try to reach solutions. "I really think you should find a way to depend a bit less on the clones. They can't always be around."

"Al right, I will see into it. I promise. Just let me be, please. I'm very tired." He lies, he always lies. It's hard to not lie. To lie is to protect himself, and he's just so afraid. He knows you can deal with the situations but he is too paranoid to not lie. Still, you are patient with him, and he trusts you enough to rely on you. He really likes you because he can actually do that.

It's hard to be so afraid of everything, to not being able to trust himself. He didn't ask to be like this. You are a stable safespace. You are trying to communicate, no idea if there will ever be results. But you try.

Sekido:

You are a hyped disaster who just wants to have fun!

Sekido wants to die. What was going on with him falling in love with the perfect mix of Karaku and Urogi?! What the hell?! "C'mon Sweet-Cherry, let's just have fun!" You pull him into doing a reckless and useless activity that would probably get you both killed if he wasn't a demon. "DON'T CALL ME LIKE THAT!" He screams blushing, you are nothing more than trouble. You start laughing and keep teasing him and he just trembles of embarrassment and rage. "HOW DARE YOU?!"

He never does anything to you, how could he? Not only you are too precious, but you would die from an attack of his. Why must you be so infuriating?! Always being in the best mood?! "Ohhhh, are you mad? You look cute at mad, but you know what would be even more cute? A smile!" He really can't stand you... and that is why he just stays still as he lets you have your way with him, huh? There are times he is just amused and watches you be.

There are even times you got him to laugh "*gasp* Is that a smile? That's so cute!" He will always deny "NO, leave me alone!" He gets used to your teasing, and you know you've won when he starts teasing you back. "I stop looking at you and you almost kill yourself. Are you that needy?" He asked once amused. "Oh hell yeah, I am. You should always look at me!" He does.

Karaku:

You are a concentrated person with great ambitions.

Honestly? Karaku is always just chasing a good time, that includes chasing you at times. You, on the other hand, don't do anything without having actually thought about it, analyze the results, pro's and con's. "C'mon, Hot-stuff! Pay attention to me!" He is always trying to distract you when you are working.

You want more than what you have, you want to get big things, be big things, that you work hard for it. "Give me 15 more minutes and I'l spoil you, Karaku. But I'm working." He doesn't want to wait, so he puts himself on your ear and "Argh~ ohh fuck~ ahh, Y/N~ it feels- mnph!" You blush and cover his mouth with you hand, and he starts to lick it and suck it.

You always have to redo your schedule for him, he is greedy for attention and likes to mess around. He thinks it's funny both how you resist to his charms but also give in to them. He is supportive of you, so he will help if you tell him to do something in specific, but still. Karaku is a distraction, a pleasurable one, and you are addicted to it. It's only human to procrastinate. "Y/N! Let's have fun together!"

Urogi:

You are classy and collected, almost having a zen presence.

Urogi likes you a lot, "You are like, shiny but without glowing or reflecting light, if that makes sense" it doesn't, but you understand what Urogi wants to say. He is always moving and acting like an animal, he likes grabbing things with his feet, chew all his food together inside his mouth filling it until parts slip off his lips, destroy things and draw attention. But you also attrack people's attention.

"Behave a little Urogi, watch your manners." You wipe softly and kindly some dirt in his cheek with a piece of cloth, being patient and tender. Ever so calm, like a Buddha! And you are elegant as well, and Urogi only wants to play and mess with you. He wants to snach you away because he likes you. "Mine!"

He is always or moving around you or all over you, sometimes he kidnaps you before flying away. As he is careful to not hurt you, you are forever impossible to perturb. That only makes him crazier about you, hyped by only having you near. "Y/N, call me Baby-bird! I like it when you call me petnames! Call me something cute!" You only chuckle calmly before nodding and speaking gently. "Is this ok, my Baby-bird?" "Yay! Call me that again!"

Aizetsu:

You are loud and strong-willed [You are Naruto Uzumaki, believe it! Okno 🤣 sorry.]

Aizetsu looks up to you, you have a very strong character and a determined personality. You are not afraid to draw everyone's attention to yourself and to stand up for what you believe. "Sekido, stop scolding Aizetsu! He is trying his best! Aizetsu, baby, don't let him talk to you like that!" He really likes you and can't help himself but shy away.

"Thank you for defending me, Y/N. I'm sorry for being a bother." You lunge fowar to grab his shoulders with your arm and press him against you, making him blush. "You are not a bother, just... stop letting others talk and walk over you. And stop being so cute!" It's easy to forget who is the more powerful between you two, since you always take the lead and he lets you be fondly.

He likes when you hold him and cuddle him, loving that you just go for what you want and that you go for him. Most of the time you are physically touching somehow, he passive and letting you do whatever you are, blushing at most. And you all over him showering him with love. "You are my baby, Aizetsu! Don't forget it, I will always be there for you!"

Gyokko:

You are lazy, always looking tired, but very generous and kind.

Gyokko wants to scream everytime he sees you looking as if you just woke up. He actually does scream at times, horrified, really. "AHHHHHHHHH! Oh gods, oh gods, you look TERRIBLE! What happened?!" You just look at him, not really caring of your appereance, before smiling softly to him. "I stayed up late, that's all. Don't worry about me, Gyokko." That only frustrates him more "I'M NOT WORRIED! I'M DISGUSTED! GO BACK TO SLEEP!"

Honestly, there are times he thinks just eating you and get over with it would be easier, but he doesn't want to risk it. As a human, anything that happens to you might be your last breath. He doesn't want you gone, and it's easier to blame how fragile your body your state instead of the fact thatcyou don't take that much care of yourself. Specially because you care a lot for others, always helping around, giving others your time, energy and resources.

And while that is the reason he loves you, he feels you should focus more on yourself at times. But you spend a lot of time together. Sometimes you watch him from afar while he makes pots, other times he watches you help others. You watch him with kindness and awe, he watches whoever is with you with anger and frustration. "Stop wasting so much on others! Come with me right now, I'm taking you away!" You are the most patient and understanding, you you mend the problems you both have. "Let me finish this favor I promised someone and I will go out with you. Don't be impatient." He is impatient, but you both manage.

Gyutaro:

Well-born, you are very healthy in every sense possible.

Gyutaro doesn't even know what is that you like from him, he's poor, ugly, sounds ill, has low self-steem, can't say no to Daki, has enough envy to fill the district's money if he was paid for it, and you can keep listing. And you still stay around. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what is going on."

He has so much envy of you. You are reliable with your emotions, you have a body you clearly take care of, a well developed brain and skills, you are socially apt, and you were born in a family with money. You are everything he hates and yet you are so good... "I really just want... something, ne. I don't know. Give me something from you, ne." You give him a hug and he burries his face into you.

You know how to treat yourself and others without getting hurt, without being anything like him. He really would love to be more like you, just like he loves to have you around to help him. Because he loves his sister, but he also wants somwhere he can heal, and you are good health personificated for him "Let's keep this a bit, ne." He tells you. "Alright, and you're welcome." He thanks you softly as he follows your lead and trust you to help him with whatche needs, even when he doesn't want ir or disagrees.... he thinks you could fix him.

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luv-elixir · 1 year

Text

❧ Body Electric ☙

Stepfather Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Word count : 7.4K

18+ Content warnings : Stepcest, manipulation, power imbalance, naïve/insecure reader, age gap, corruption, c*m-fetish, slight size kink, slapping, spitting, degradation, stepdad!Leon, stepdaughter!reader, reader has a tiny electra complex. (Slight mentions of reader being verbally abused by mother along with mommy/daddy issues.) Porn with plot.

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION! I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE ACTIONS WRITTEN BELOW; ALL THAT IS WRITTEN IS PURE FICTION AND FANTASY!

Summertime was always a weird time for you.

When you were a child, your parents would just send you off to a camp to avoid dealing with you for a while, and when you were sent back home, you’d hide in your room while they fought for hours on end.

Even after they got divorced, the arguments seemed to never end. A constant battle over who would have the responsibility of caring for you all summer finally being settled when your grandmother offered to take you in until the season was over.

Now, as a university student, you would be spending your summer at your mother and her new husband, Mr. Kennedy's, home.

Interactions with both your parents had been scarce when you started university. You simply just didn't have the time or energy for them to berate you with your hectic schedule. It was no surprise to hear your mother had been dating; with your father getting married a few years prior and her having a few boyfriends here and there, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about her love life. You did start caring when she told you she was engaged.

It came as a huge shock when you finally met the mystery man.

He was handsome.

Everything about him was striking; he was an Adonis, simply too beautiful to be human. So beautiful that you nearly forgot your mother was right there and that the only reason you met was because he was to marry her.

How could your mother draw a man like him into her iron-clad grip? He was charming, caring, attentive, conscientious, and frankly too good for a woman like her, or anyone for that matter. Leon Scott Kennedy was simply too good to be true.

You truly had no idea how they had gotten into a relationship. Hell, you didn't even know your mother wanted to get married again. It was all a huge question mark for you. The only thing you were sure of was his name, age, and your affinity for him.

The wedding happened exactly three months after you met. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help the sinful thoughts you had as they married. He just looked so handsome in his suit that you couldn’t help but fantasize about his big hands touching you, ignoring the wedding band tying him to your mother.

Laying in bed that night, furiously rubbing your aching clit, you moaned his name and thought of how you wished he was yours instead of your mother's. But more importantly, you tried to pull your head out of the clouds and make yourself remember that it would never happen.

Little did you know that all those countless nights you spent fantasizing about him, he was thinking of you too. It was his fucking honeymoon and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Jerking himself off, thinking of your alluring face and delicate body. He couldn’t resist using the image of a little beauty like yourself to get him off, even while the beauty’s mother slept right beside him…

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You are so fucking naive and clueless to not realize how obvious you were being with your crush on your stepfather. It was clear as day to any man who had ever been lusted over that you liked Leon more than a stepdaughter should.

Of course Leon knew; he knew from the moment he saw that shyness show up in your beautiful eyes when he first introduced himself that you had a crush, and damn, he is more than happy about it.

Every time his precious stepdaughter and his wife left home he would snoop through his sweet angel's room. It started out small—just quick peeks, leaving everything alone—but overtime it began to escalate.

Leon only does it because he cares; he wants to make sure his precious baby is happy and isn’t getting into any trouble. At least that was his justification. He knew you were quite a covert girl; being raised Catholic and raised by sanctimonious (hypocritical) parents, you were never one to step out of line, fearing the wrath of your parents. Being sent to an all-girls Catholic school, your interactions with boys and men had been few and limited; he was sure the only friends you had who were boys were your family members. You were hardly ever allowed to go out without the supervision of your mother, but it still didn’t hurt to check. After all, you are now one of his responsibilities.

When Leon would go through your drawers to see the clothes you hid from your mother that you bought at cheap second-hand stores, knowing that she would scream and berate you for owning a skirt that goes above the knee, he would imagine how beautiful you must look in them and how happy you must be wearing something you truly liked, even if you could only wear it in the safety of your room; it made his heart flutter.

His favorite thing to do in your room was to read your diaries. He thought it was so adorable how you kept every single one that you’ve ever had. It was a big invasion of privacy, but you didn’t even bother to hide your most recent one, and he just couldn’t resist. Reading them was exhilarating; learning more about you and what goes on in your little head made him feel closer to you. Leon just wants to know so he can protect you better, understand you better, and learn to love you better.

He thought it was adorable how you’d write about almost every interaction he’s ever had with you, like the time he bought you your favorite singer's vinyl records and a Polaroid camera after you asked your mother if you could buy them yourself a few days prior and she refused to let you. You jumped into his arms, hugging him with all your heart and giving him infinite ‘thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy’s." It was the touchiest you’ve ever been with him, and your perfume lingers on the shirt he has tucked away, refusing to wash your scent from it.

One of Leon’s favorite diary entries of yours was the one where you first met. He loved it so much that he snapped a photo of it just so he could read it whenever he wanted.

February 1st

I just got back from dinner with mom and her fiancé, Leon Kennedy <3 I called him Mr. Kennedy all night even though he insisted I call him Leon cause I got so nervous and just couldn’t look him in the eye. He was so freaking handsome, he has the prettiest eyes. I never thought a man could be so handsome. It’s not fair how mom has him, she doesn’t deserve him. Gosh he’s just so handsome, I wanted him to just take me in his arms and kiss me like in the movies !!! I hate that his heart belongs to mom, how come she gets to have a man like Leon instead of some ugly fat bald dude ?? I know it’s so wrong but I can’t help but like him, he was so nice to me tonight my heart is still pounding. He even gave me a nickname ! He said I look like a doll and called me doll face more than my name, gosh my heart is fluttering just thinking about it !!! If anyone finds out I’ll just die, this is so so so wrong but I can’t help it. I know he’s going to be my stepfather but I want him to look at me with his pretty eyes, I want him to hold my hand, I want him to be the one to hold me, I want him to say I love you to me, I want to be the one marrying him instead of my contemptible mother !!! I know it’s perverse and dirty but I wish he wanted me instead of her.

Leon loved it. He loved seeing the vicious, possessive, dirty side of you.

What he loved even more was reading your entries about how much you wanted him to love on you, even if it was rather on the innocent side. Just something about you writing down your fantasies made his cock stir, reading things like-

May 26th

I’ve been with mom and Leon for 2 days, my stuff is all moved into the house and it basically looks the same.

I saw Leon <3 and mom through the kitchen window while I was reading in the backyard kissing and he had his hand on her neck but then she yanked it away and rolled her eyes before leaving. If I were her I’d let him do what he wanted to me. If I knew how to french kiss I’d do it with him all the time, let him wrap his hand around my neck while I sit in his lap and just french kiss for hours. All my friends have done it before but I’ve only gotten the tiniest of pecks. I know it’s sinful to like my stepdad but fantasy never hurt anyone ??

-Leon would teach you how to french kiss and so much more.

Digging through your panty drawer, his eyes widened. Instead of seeing your usual cotton underwear with cute patterns, he instead saw a pair of lace white panties with a pink bow at the bottom of the drawer as an attempt to hide it away. This was clearly meant to be a set of sorts. He felt his heart nearly burst as he sifted through your bras to get to the bottom, only to find the matching white lace bra with a pink bow in the middle.

Why the fuck did you have these?

Was there someone you were going to wear them for?

He needed answers and he needed them now. He hadn’t read your diary yet so he hoped that the answer could be in there. Snatching it from your desk, his eyes frantically scanned through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

June 3rd

Mom let grandmother take me out shopping with her and I had a really good time !! I do miss spending summers there but getting to see Leon makes up for it hehe :) I really do wish mom would let me see grandmother more often though. She took me to the mall and she got me a bikini and a pair of actual proper lingerie !!! I know it might be weird for her to buy me that but she told me every girl needs a proper pair and mom would kill me if I asked her and I just wanted to have something to make me feel pretty even if no one knows I have it. It feels good to be a little more normal, it sucks that all the other girls get to show off their pretty swimsuits and wear pretty lingerie while i look like a chump in my stupid one piece bathing suit and stupid cotton underwear and ugly bras. Mom says it’s gross to have these things even though I saw the receipt from a lingerie store on the table right before her honeymoon, what a hypocrite. I had to sneak it in wearing both the bikini and bra under my normal clothes haha, I’m even wearing my new garments as I’m writing this. I think I’ll even change into my bikini in a little bit just for fun. It was a good day :).

Jesus you are so fucking cute

Relief washed over him instantly, but his heart cracked. You're such a beautiful girl, and you didn’t even know it. He saw the way boys and men would look at you; he even saw the jealousy in your own mother's eyes. How did you not know that you were drop-dead gorgeous? With beauty like yours, you could wear rags and still be the most beautiful thing to walk the earth. You looked exactly like a doll, you didn't need lingerie or bikinis to be pretty.

Leon knew from reading all your journals that the reason you felt this way was because of your upbringing; your parents weren’t exactly ones to instill confidence but preferred to tear you down and keep you in a constant state of vacillation so you’d have to constantly rely on them.

A notification dragged him from his thoughts—a text from your mother saying that you’d both be home in 5 minutes—as he began to clean he kept thinking of how beautiful you looked in your pretty lingerie and how he would be getting to actually see you in it soon.

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This was absolutely perfect.

The moment the words left your mother's mouth, Leon felt the blood rush to his pants. When he glanced at you sitting on the sofa and saw you squish your thighs together, he knew you felt the same heat too.

It was like the stars aligned; your mother would leave for her close friends bachelorette party week abroad in Mexico and leave you and Leon all alone. Fate was truly on both your sides.

Until he heard your mothers voice say-

"You could always spend the week at your father's if you don’t want to stay here with Leon, honey. We can drop you off the night before I leave. Would you rather do that?"

Fuck, maybe you would say you wanted to be with your father.

"No, no, it’s alright. I want to be here with all my stuff and adjust to the new house better; I'm still getting used to it."

Another wave of relief washed over him.

“Okay honey, are you okay with that Leon?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll be working most of it anyway.”

A lie, he would immediately call the DSO to tell them he’d be taking the entire week off.

Leon glanced at you once again to see you looking at your lap trying to hide the smile forming on your pretty lips.

This week he’s finally going to make you his.

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Your poor heart was about to pound out of your chest. Leon had taken your mother to the airport three and a half hours ago for her flight, and all you could do was pace around Leon’s home. What was taking him so long to come back? Chalking it up to airports being a pain you continued pacing. Knowing you and Leon would be alone for the week made the feeling of anxiety coursing through your veins increase.

You tried your best to look nice, taking the time to make your hair look pretty and putting on more makeup than usual now that your mother couldn’t tell you to wipe it off. Rebelling even more, you put on a cute sundress that would send your parents into cardiac arrest if they were here to see you wearing it.

It really did feel nice to doll yourself up.

Finally, when you finished and looked at the large mirror in the hallway to admire your work, it hit you. You were doing all this for your own mother's husband. You did this to impress your stepfather. What the hell is the matter with you? This is wrong, and dirty, and nasty. Even if he wasn’t tied to your mother why would ever want a puny girl like you?

Damn it, you should’ve just spent the week with your father and stepmother, even if you’d be miserable. You’d probably just be a nuisance to Leon anyway; he’ll probably just spend the week avoiding you. God, why didn’t you just bite the bullet and go to your father's? You should’ve never agreed to stay the week, it was doomed from the start.

Being so drowned in your thoughts you only heard the door being unlocked when it was too late…

CRAP

“Hey doll, I’m back from the airport!”

The door is about 1/4 open.

CRAP CRAP CRAP

What can you do? Running to your room won’t work; the staircase is directly in front of the door. Hiding isn’t worth the risk of getting caught and looking more stupid than you already do. You don’t know the house well enough, so if there is a blind spot where you can sneak off to so you can quickly get changed, you definitely don’t know it.

Too late.

Leon is now standing two and a half feet in front of you.

Nervously smoothing the bottom of your dress, all you could do was look down at his shoes as his eyes practically burned holes into you.

“Wow. You look very nice today.”

You felt your face get hot as embarrassment washed over you. Is he mocking you? His voice didn’t sound mocking but you never know. Even if he is you can’t just stand there like an idiot!!! Say something, anything!!!

“Thanks, Mr. Kennedy.”

You mentally slap yourself.

Was THAT really the best you could do??? At least you didn’t stutter. Raising your head, you finally meet his eyes and see how sincere they are.

“I’ve told you hundreds of times to call me Leon sweetheart.”

He won’t admit it out loud to you yet, but he secretly loves your formality. He gets a little rush every time you call him “Mr. Kennedy” and “sir”. His wife raised such a polite young woman, he can’t wait to see what else he can get you to call him.

“Are you hungry doll? I’ll order or make you whatever you want.” He has his very big hand on your shoulder rubbing soothing circles on your skin and you feel electricity all throughout your body.

“I’m okay right now Mr. Kenn- Leon. But thank you for offering.” He moves his hand to rub your shoulder and you want the moment to linger as long as possible.

“Okay doll, I’m gonna go take a quick shower.” His very big hand leaves all too soon, “After I’m done I’ll meet you in the game room so we can do something fun tonight, you okay spending some time with me sweetheart?”

You felt a jolt of excitement at his offer, “Okay, I’ll be waiting there for you!”

With one last smile to one another you both head your separate ways.

You felt so happy that Leon wanted to spend his time with you instead of just going out or staying in his room to avoid you, you knew it was wrong to want his attention but you just couldn’t help it. He was the one who offered, and you were raised to always be polite and accept invitations, your parents only had themselves to blame. Why should you care about her feelings when she’s never cared about yours? After all it was your mother’s choice to leave her husband all alone so she could have her fun, so why shouldn’t you indulge yourself and have your own fun too?

During your epiphany, Leon was in the shower stroking his cock, thinking of you standing there in your pretty little dress, looking more vulnerable than a deer in headlights. It took everything in him not to push you to the floor and stuff your tiny pussy full of his big cock. He wondered if you had your regular Sanrio cotton panties or your lingerie on underneath?

He imagined your little whines and whimpers, saying how he’s too big and won’t fit so he only fucks you with half his length until he can stretch you out more, how sexy you would look riding him. Thinking of how you’d shyly guide his hand to wrap around your neck as he fucks you into oblivion.

Did you even know the effect you had on him? he thought of you every second of the day. he saw your angelic face everytime he closed his eyes, had constant dreams of you. He thought of how much happier he’d be if you had been his bride instead of your mother. Hell you’d probably faint from embarrassment if you knew even a sliver of his fantasies about you.

Wrapping a towel around his waist Leon couldn’t help but smirk as he thinks of all the things he would be doing to his precious stepdaughter tonight.

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Sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to shuffle a deck of cards, the TV played an Impractical Jokers re-run softly in the background as Leon finally came downstairs.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, secretly admire how good he looked. He wore gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt that clung to him deliciously tight, showing off his muscles beautifully. Having felt self-conscious in your dress and the sun having set, you changed into your sleep shirt and shorts while Leon was gone, and he loved it. Your thin pajamas hugged your figure so well that he had to look away before his cock hardened.

Now all he had to do was execute his plan. First he’d put in a scary movie (a classic way to get a girl to cling onto her beau), gain your trust, and finally he’d fuck the shit out of you.

“Hey doll, thanks for holding up,” Reaching over to turn off the lamp, he cheekily smiles at you “What do you say we watch a movie? I know a good scary one I think you’d like.”

Nervousness crept into you as you toyed with your shorts, “Oh I’ve never really seen a horror movie before, my parents have never let me… but I want to watch it though!”

‘A night of firsts’ Leon thought. “I’ll put it on, it’s an older movie but it’s a classic. Why don’t you come up here and sit next to me sweetheart?” He patted the spot next to him on the sofa, “Don’t want you to be all by yourself down there.”

Shyly, you got up, Leon gently grabbed your hand and sat you next to him. You hadn’t been this close to him since he bought you those gifts a couple weeks ago; you nearly forgot how he was even more handsome up close and personal. Picking at your fingernails, you waited anxiously as the movie began. Putting his arm around your shoulder, he somehow made you get even closer to him, his cologne and shampoo invading your senses. Rubbing his hand up and down your arm, he could feel the goosebumps forming on your soft skin.

25 minutes had passed, and you had practically molded yourself into his side. The movie was scary, of course, but you couldn’t blame snuggling into Leon on just being scared. You knew exactly what you were doing, and as long as Leon was okay with it, you’d keep doing it. This was your only opportunity to get a taste of what it was like to be with him, and goddamn, you were going to take it.

When a jump scare happened you let out a small scream and hid your face in his neck, clinging to him tightly. The cogs turned in Leon’s brain; everything was going according to plan.

Sliding his arm down to your waist he held your head with his other hand, “You scared baby?”

Your heart beat faster at the pet name, “A little bit…”

“You shouldn’t be sweetheart,” He caresses your face. “I’m right here to protect you.”

His breath was fanning your face; you were so close to him that you could see every beautiful, unique detail that marked his skin.

The lump suddenly comes back to your throat.

“You’re so angelic,” he tugs you even closer than you were before, “look just like a doll.”

Blush spreads across your face, kissing the palm of Leon’s big hand you sheepishly put one hand on his chest and the other on one of his big arms, tracing gentle circles with your small fingers. “Do you really mean that Leon?”

“Course I mean it baby,” placing you on his lap, he made sure to position you so you’d feel his hard cock under your cunt, “most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

A tiny smirk appeared on your lips, “More beautiful than my mother?”

His cock was pulsing hearing that come from your pouty lips.

“Especially more beautiful than her,” you began pressing tiny kisses to his jaw, “can see the envy in her eyes every time she looks at you.”

And with that he dove in and kissed you. It felt electrifying as he slipped his tongue into your hot mouth, pressing it as deep as he can go. You whined when he pulled away, quickly giving him a small peck.

"Fuck, doll face" he sighs, scattering gentle pecks on your neck, “You like how I kiss you, hm?" his big hands wander down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and making you moan.

"A-ah, Leon," you whimper, his hands not leaving your ass. Leon just smirks and pulls your body closer to him. He leans down to kiss your lips once more, but it was rougher. He wraps his arm around your body, tugging you firmer, while his other hand cups your cheek. Leon’s in control of the kiss, you just try your best to keep up with him. You whined once again when he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both together.

“You finally got a real kiss, and now you can’t get enough, can you, dirty girl?” He wiped the spit from your lips with his finger, placing it in his mouth to taste both your mixtures. Your cheeks were flushed red from how turned on you are for him.

“Let’s continue this in the bedroom nasty girl,” picking you up bridal style he carried you up the stairs,“gonna need more room to do what I want to you.”

Making a beeline for your bedroom, upon entry giving you a chaste kiss before guiding you to stand between his legs.

“Be a good girl and take my cock out.”

You just nodded your head, obeying him immediately. You'd done some research, so you weren't as naïve as you had been before, and you were hoping he'd give you the chance to show him what you learned. Leon began removing his shirt as you began to scoot down, by the look of an evident bulge, you could tell his cock was gonna be big. Leon watches you with hazy eyes, petting your hair softly.

You felt your heart rate go faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. Quickly tugging his sweatpants and boxers down his hard cock slaps against his stomach and bobs forward, the thick tip smearing your cheek with his precum.

Leon reaches for your face to wipe it off but you grab his wrist and lower it. Your mouth is watering. He’s so thick and long, how was he supposed to fit in your mouth let alone your pussy?

With no plan at all, you leaned forward and enveloped the head of his cock between your pretty lips. He hissed at the sudden contact, your tongue tasting his precum beading at the tip. It was a little salty, but hearing Leon’s deep groan of pleasure, you’d learn to love the taste.

You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock. Taking your small hand you pumped it up and down, spreading your spit all around his fat cock.

“Holy shit! Where the hell did you learn to do that, doll?”

You blushed, letting out a small giggle, and licked his tip, “Watched a porno, wanted to learn how before I did it to you.”

Opening your mouth to slip his cock back in before he could respond, you tried to take as much of him as you could. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly began to suck his cock. His grip in your hair tightened and the tinge of pain had you gushing into your panties. You whimpered around him, clenching your thighs together to help ease the pressure between your legs.

He let you suck on him, lathering his member in your spit until you reached the point where you couldn't handle anymore of his cock in your mouth.

"C'mon angel, try to take more of daddy in that slutty throat," He growled, you choked but did your best to relax your throat to allow him to fuck your mouth. Your panties were soaked and sticking to you, having your handsome stepfather use your throat as he pleased was a turn on.

"Look at that. Bad little girl aren't you? You're my bad, naughty girl." Leon mocks, watching tears drip down your cheeks.

You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his big cock. Using your hand on what your mouth couldn’t reach to try and make him cum.

"Fuck my love, you're doing so damn good. Sucking your Daddy's cock so good." he moans, hand still gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again. The gagging sent shivers down his spine.

Saliva continuously dripped down your chin, "So messy for your daddy, my baby" he suddenly pulled out, leaving you a panting mess before him.

Lifting you in his arms he tenderly kissed your forehead, "Did such a good job sucking me off angel, always knew you were secretly a whore. Love how sloppy you are, can’t wait to teach you how to deep-throat me."

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice sounded, “Anything for you.” you practically moan, quickly you pressed a kiss to Leon’s nose and tried to wriggle out of his arms.

Confused Leon gently put you down, sat back on your bed, and waited to see what you were going to do. “Keep pumping your cock!” You quickly went over to your dresser and grabbed the Polaroid camera he got you. He almost had a heart attack hearing what came out of your mouth.

“I want you to cum on my face and take a photo of it. Is that okay with you?”

Leon practically snatched the camera from you, “Shit doll, didn’t know you were this nasty. Hurry up and suck me off so I can fuck you after this.” he quickly pushed you to your knees.

He shoved your head on his cock, becoming impatient. He just wanted to feel your tight mouth on him again. His free hand tangled in your hair once more as he started to push himself further in your mouth. Your eyes instantly teary as he reached your gag-reflex, making your throat burn. Looking down at your pretty face made his self-control snap and he lifted his hips up, forcing his whole cock down your throat. Two more thrusts and he pulled out, his hot cum spurting all over your face.

Snapping two photos on the camera he placed the three items on the floor and lifted you up on the bed, "Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You instantly do what he tells you, allowing him to spit in your mouth and without being told to, you swallow happily.

Gathering his cum on your fingers you happily lick them clean, “I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna go wash my face real quick!” and Leon waits patiently, stewing in anticipation.

Re-entering your room Leon saw that you ditched your pajamas and now only wore the lingerie he found in your room just days ago.

You truly are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

"C’mere baby girl, come here." Leon coos and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches from yours. He clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it.

He presses a sloppy kiss to your swollen lips, "Ready for me to finally fuck you, my baby?”

You nod your head the best you can. "Please, want it so bad daddy"

"You think you can take my cock?"

You hate how flustered he can make you. You only nod and lean in for another kiss, letting Leon take control of it once again.

“I can take it. Promise I can.”

“Okay doll,” he nips at your jaw, “just gotta prep you first.”

Prep?

Every coherent thought leaves your mind as you watch him unclip your bra, exposing you to him. Before you can cover yourself, Leon snatches your wrist with his hand and shoots you a warning look before kissing and sucking at your sensitive breasts. Holding onto him as he laid you on your back, you waited to see his next move.

His hand cups your panty-clad cunt and you jolt, panicking at the sensation your legs closed on instinct, Leon growled, "Open your fucking legs or I’ll leave right now..."

You whimpered, startled by Leon’s tone as he pushed them back open. Leon smiled, pecking your lips quickly, "Be a good girl, doll..."

Feeling you up, he stroked your clothed pussy with his fingers softly. Your little hand reached for his free one, putting his pointer and middle finger to your lips you began to suck on them. He pressed his fingers harder on your cunt, specifically on your cute little clit making you moan around his digits.

"You feel good, angel?" Leon asked softly as you nodded, feeling relaxed you kept your legs open no longer needing Leon to help keep them spread. But Leon was going too slow and you were starting to get frustrated.

"M-more..." You quietly begged him, making him chuckle darkly. Leon could see your hips thrusting up harder into his hand, wanting more friction as you became more desperate.

"Such a cute doll, aren't you?" Dazed, eyes barely open, mouth slightly gaped, a little drool from when you sucked his fingers in the corners of your sweet mouth. ‘She looks so fuckable.’

He was tempted to just shove his fat cock inside your tight virgin cunt and make you take it, no matter how much it hurt, and he would have if it was anyone else. But you aren’t just anyone; you're his stepdaughter, his precious baby who deserves to have her pussy fingered and eaten out, so he pushes the thought out of his mind.

Leon just wants to fuck you stupid, "Let's get these off you..." Taking a look at your cunt, he noticed your panties had a wet spot on them that seemed to be getting bigger.

"Look at that, baby... So wet..." His fingers touched the wet patch, feeling the stickiness on his fingertips, he bent down, "Fuck, you smell so good my love..."

Leon took off your ruined panties and he could feel the hunger devour him right then and there. Saliva gathered in his mouth, a voice in his head telling him to just dive in and eat your little cunt like it was the last thing he'll ever have.

So he listened.

Leon dove in without a warning, his tongue collecting the juices that seep out of your cunt as you screamed, "L-Leon!!!"

"So sweet. Taste so fucking sweet..." He growled as he sucked the puffy little nub in between his lips, softly biting it and making you thrash underneath him, arching your back as you called out his name, "You're just a little skank, aren't you?"

"N-not a skank, Leon! Feels... Feels w-weird..." you whimper and grab onto his hair, Leon didn't stop sucking, licking, he gave his all as you felt tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes.

"Just a dumb fucking bitch. Nasty little slut that loves how her stepfather plays with her pussy." He collected his saliva inside his mouth and spits on your cunt, making you more of a mess as his fingers roam your entrance.

Without a warning his fingers start ramming inside you—moving them rapidly up and down, hitting the spots you didn't even know existed. You couldn’t think straight, not when he spat on your cunt and made you know how good it felt to have your pussy doted on. You were crying, wanting him to slow down but despite it hurting, you still wanted more.

He moved his tongue and fingers in sync, rubbing your swollen clit at a fast pace trying to get his good girl to cum as fast as he can and repeat the process over and over again. Leon wanted to make the bed drenched with your cum.

Leon could feel your walls clenching on his fingers, restraining his movements he knew you were close. Then he went harder and harder, pressing down on the puffy nub as you screamed, the tears on your face evident.

"You gonna cum, aren't you, babydoll? Are you gonna be a good girl for me? You deserve this so much, baby. Watched you for so long, been dreaming of this day since I met you" He slaps you across your face, savoring the moment, "That's right, doll... Let the whole neighborhood know how good I'm making you feel. Show daddy know how much of a whore you are."

Leon’s right, you really are a slut.

Stars clouded your vision. The knot in your stomach made you feel like you were going to pee, feeling it coiling in your belly, it grows bigger and bigger.

Suddenly something so unexpected happens that shocked you both. Leon can feel the gush of stream hitting him as you twitch in his grasp, moaning so loud he knows the neighbors will hear it. The clear stream of liquid told its tale and Leon knows exactly what it is.

"L-Leon!" your thighs shook frantically as you cried, he could only smirk seeing you squirt all over his hands and mouth.

"Good fucking girl," he gives a few gentle slaps to your aching pussy "Gonna make you my own personal porn star, doll face. Bet you’d fuckin’ love that."

You just stare at him with heart eyes. Grabbing the back of his head to make him lean down, you licked from his chin back up to his lips so you could taste yourself.

Leaning back he kisses your forehead, “It’s going to hurt a little more cause you have such a tight cunt, but I’ll go slow. I promise,” he says with furrowed brows.

You loop your arms around his neck, and nod, hoping that the he can see the adoration you feel for him in your eyes. Leon nods back stiffly as his eyes flit to your lips before kissing you hard, once again. Though this time, while his lips are on yours, one of his hands reaches between you both, gripping the base of his cock. He rubs it between your folds, the tip brushing against your clit making you moan, high pitched and sweet into his mouth.

You brace yourself for the stretch of his big cock. When he finally bottoms out, you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders where your hands were rested. He hisses, and your brows furrow with worry when you feel the tiny pricks of blood oozing out.

“I’m sorry,” you panic, tears prickling your eyes from both the pain of your hymen breaking and the fear of hurting him. “Are you mad? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so sorry,” you softly cry.

Here Leon is, balls deep in the wettest, tightest pussy he’s ever had, and you’re asking him if he’s mad at you. As if a few little fingernail scratches could actually hurt him. He laughs a little, trying not to move before you’ve adjusted to him being inside of you. “You could punch me in the face and I’d still adore you. I’m fine,” he says as he pecks your nose.

To make you forget about it he leans forward and groans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he starts slowly fucking you. "That’s my good girl," he chuckles, hearing his balls slap against you, "taking this huge dick like a whore."

"Yes, yes, r-right there daddy! Hurts so good!" his words were made you blush red, turned on from the way he was spoke to you. You love it — you love surrendering yourself to him, letting him do whatever he wants with your body, loved to let him use you like a sex toy.

"Yeah? My little bitch loves how I fuck her hard with my cock?" You don't even need to answer because he can feel it. He sees his cock protruding against your stomach, your pussy too little to accommodate his big dick.

The hand that was once wrapped around your neck moves up to your face as he forces two fingers inside your wet mouth.

Your eyes roll back, choking as he went past your gag reflex.

"It’s s-so big," you mumble around his digits, your saliva coating his fingers as you swirled your tongue around them. “Love it so much,”

"Dick too big to fit inside this little cunt. such a little baby I’ve got here." He gives a light slap to your puffy clit, “Can see it moving in your stomach, babydoll. My cock is the only one you need. Know it hurts but you’re gonna take it like a big girl, yeah?”

You quickly reply, pussy clenching, "Yes, just p-please don’t stop," you say through his fingers, batting your eyelashes.

His lips curve up in a smile, loving how cute you said that, "Mhm, 'course you love it. My little cum-slut can't get enough of her stepdads big cock."

You two were a hot, moaning messes. Looking up at him pathetically Leon’s cock throbs at the sight of you all used, your face flushed. "Want to cum, sweet girl?"

Wanton moans filled the room as you nodded your head.

“Only way I’ll let you is if you tell me what I want to hear," he squishes your cheeks together, “Wanna hear you say that this is your daddy’s pussy and that you belong to him and him only. Say it and I’ll make you cum, babydoll.”

Your cunt squeezes him tightly, you love how he only wants you for himself.

“M-my pussy is daddy’s, and I o-only belong to him!”

He slaps your cheek harder than he did before and soothes you with a sloppy kiss.

His thrusts gets rougher, pounding right into your sweet spot before he sends you to a hard, body-shaking climax. Your vision blurs, seeing stars as your pussy squirts your cum onto his dick. "There we go, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock – fucking little minx!."

You only have the energy to moan, brain dead at the staggering orgasm.

He comes undone right after, hot strings of cum coating your tight walls. Pulling out, he groans when he sees both of your mixed cum oozing out of your cunt and onto your comforter.

Leaning down he places his long fingers in your messy pussy, shoving his cum back inside.

"C’mere, my love," he plants his hands on your stomach and lays you on his chest, kissing your hairline.

You both lay still for a couple minutes, catching your breath. You listen to his heartbeat come back to a steady pace as he rubs your back and shoulders up and down, kissing your head every once in a while.

“Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” Leon says breaking the comfortable silence.

Nuzzling further in his chest you hold him tighter, “M’fine Leon, just sore.”

You hear his heartbeat quicken again.

“Did such a good job baby, thank you for letting me do this to you.” He tugs your head back, pressing a long kiss to your swollen lips.

You feel your heart stop as he moves you and gets up from your bed. You grab his hand and he lets out a small laugh, giving it a kiss, “M’not going anywhere doll, just gonna put my pants back on and get you some clean panties.”

A small smile spreads across your face, relieved he wasn’t leaving you all alone. When he comes back he holds you as tight as he can without suffocating you.

Holding his jaw, he can barely hear you whisper a scared “Thought you were gonna abandon me.”

You’d never have to worry about him leaving you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it doll face” he squeezes your throat, “I’m never letting you go, whether you like it or not...”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

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What are your thoughts on the je'daii? Do they even work, like I find myself irritated by the concept because people often use them to validate/prove the notion that "balance = both sides of the Force"

If you stick to what George Lucas said, in Star Wars a person being "balanced" is someone who accepts their inner darkness and resists its pull nonetheless.

When fans mention the Je'daii, it's usually in the context of:

"The Jedi downgraded from the Je'daii, limited their studies of the Force, refusing to study the Dark Side was a mistake. It was an original sin that caused them to create an imbalance within them."

Which is weird, to me, because the whole point of the comic's narrative is that:

the Je’daii Order’s way was doomed to fail.

Introduced in the Legends comic series Dawn of the Jedi (2012), the Je'daii are the predecessors of the Jedi. They are an order of Force users who studied and practiced both the Light Side and the Dark Side in hopes of finding Balance.

The reasoning is simple: everyone has a bit of good and bad in them, you learn to master the good and the bad sides inside of you, indulging them equally. But while this method seems sound on paper… it didn't work.

Consider that they’re already dabbling with the Dark Side...

... but hey, at least they’re aware of its dangers, they’re trying to be responsible about it.

There's a support system where they all warn each other when they're about to cross a line. But even then, there's many who've fallen and been exiled to a moon, to be rehabilitated.

Suddenly, circumstances compel all of them to use the Forcesaber, a weapon that only activates when you draw on the Dark Side.

And that does something to them. Over the course of a year, they all become increasingly aggressive.

Soon, a faction breaks off because they no longer want to stop using the Forcesaber. They’re addicted to the Dark Side.

A war ensues, at the end of which the Jedi Order is born, a group of Force users who:

acknowledge and accept their inner darkness,

while also striving to overcome it rather than give it power.

So that’s the moral of the whole Je’daii story.

Their idea of "Balance by wielding both" was actually so fragile and difficult to maintain that all it took was a little push for them to become vulnerable to the Dark Side's temptation.

Hell, even after the Jedi Order was established, one of its founders, Master Rajivari - who in Dawn of the Jedi (2012) is framed as a wise ex-general who, albeit strict, spends his days meditating and philosophizing - he goes to the Dark Side too!

Because that's how the Dark Side works.

The Dark Side isn’t just "negative feelings" or a "bad guy superpower" that you can mix with a "good guy superpower" to unleash the ultimate 'Force blast'. This isn’t an anime.

The Dark Side is a drugs/smoking/drinking addiction.

It's selfish, temporary pleasure. The more you consume it...

... the more you get addicted...

... and the more it consumes you right back...

... until nothing remains.

Jon Ostrander, who wrote Dawn of the Jedi (2012), echoed this sentiment multiple times:

“As I see it, those working on the light side work with the Force, channeling it, open and sensitive to what it tells them. They serve it. Those on the dark side try to impose their will on the Force, to make it do their will, to make it serve them. The Je’daii believe in a balance between the light and the dark side and so attempt to use both. Problem is, a balance is hard to maintain and the dark side is so very seductive.” - John Ostrander, LA Times, 2012

“The Je'daii aren't light side or dark side, although they know and are aware of both. Instead they seek a balance in the Force between light and dark. Balance, however, is a difficult thing to maintain and there is always the danger of falling wholly to the dark side — and some Je'daii have done so.” - John Ostrander, Newsarama, 2012

And this is a recurring theme throughout all of Ostrander’s comics, by the way. Be it with the Je’daii, but also with Quinlan Vos or Cade Skywalker, the point remains the same:

"Yes, wielding the Dark Side gives you great power, and you get to show off some badass new tricks...

… but it ultimately destroys you and everyone around you."

Remember: if it weren’t for Cade or Quin’s loved ones, neither of them would have come back from the Dark Side. They aren't badasses because they can use Force Lightning, they're badasses because they found the strength to give that up.

So if you genuinely think the Jedi "downgraded" by refusing to give the Dark Side more power than it already has on them... you're missing the point.

“It’s not about ripping things out of the sky using the Force or Force Lightning. A lot of people, they think “oh look how powerful Vader is, look how powerful the Emperor is, I want to play be the bad guy because I get these powers”. It’s an empty feeling, at the end of the day, after the moment. [...] The Dark Side is a spiral downward that you’re trapped in.” - Dave Filoni, “Force of Rebellion”, 2018

It was an upgrade.

Framing "balance" as "equal Dark and Light Side" is like consuming one (1) salad a day and one (1) whole bottle of vodka and calling that "balanced". No, buddy, that'll kill you. Because:

The vodka is better at being destructive than the salad is at making you healthy.

It's won't stay just one bottle per day. It'll eventually become two, three, etc.

Because as George Lucas stated time and again, resisting the Dark Side is a constant struggle.

So that's my two cents.

You've probably already heard about the recent announcement of a Dawn of the Jedi feature film, a biblical epic that will be directed by James Mangold.

And truth be told... it scares me SO much that we came THIS close to an Episode IX: Duel of the Fates that framed "balance" as - you guessed it - giving equal power to your light and darkness.

Like, how did this ⬆️ get as far as it did? Did nobody think to sit Colin Trevorrow down and explain to him that he fundamentally misunderstands how the Force works?

So all I can do is cross my fingers and hope James Mangold has a better grasp of - if not the lore (I wouldn't be surprised if the words "Je'daii" or "Tython" aren't uttered once in the film) - at least the message.

#incidentally Jon Ostrander is one of the few EU writers who actually *got* the Prequels' intended narrative #je'daii #je'daii order #star wars legends #expanded universe #jedi #jedi order #in defense of the jedi #jedi culture #Dawn of the Jedi #the force #dark side of the force #jon ostrander #jan duursema #dave filoni #meta #QnA

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absolutely-esme · 3 months

Text

Monster!Tim Coraline au part 3

I had more thoughts on the au from here and here.

First off, It's called Hungry Monster Tim au unless and until I come up with a better name.

That's the tag that will help you find related content. I titled the post the way I did so that people who found the au before it had a name could recognize it. I'm hoping this will minimize confusion.

...

Now, I figure I'll talk a bit about how others view Tim.

The most of the earlier additions to the Batfam have mostly interacted with Tim in Emotional Support Tim mode.

Emotional Support Tim is pleasant and comforting. He is not overly exuberant and joyful in a way that would grate on fresh grief. He is also not joyless in a way that might make a hero feel obligated to worry about him. He is gentle and competent. His patience seems nearly endless. He can tolerate both being coddled and being leaned on. He can tolerate both being clung to and pushed away. He can tolerate switching back and forth at unpredictable intervals.

Tim approached Nightwing in his standard state of "tired, low on patience, and possibly about to do something stupid," once before Tim realized he was also grief-stricken and in no fit state to get Batman under control. He might have an inkling that Emotional Support Tim is an act, or he might just think Tim was having a bad day.

Bruce thinks Emotional Support Tim is what Tim is actually like. By the time Bruce was functional enough to not need so much managing, he'd gotten attached enough to the facade for Tim to have concerns about dropping it.

Alfred can tell that Tim is putting on a facade. He can tell that the role Tim has taken on is wearing on him. He doesn't like it. He feels guilty for allowing it to continue. He can't bring himself to put a stop to it when it's keeping his adoptive son alive.

Barbara initially meets Emotional Support Tim, immediately clocks the act, and pulls him aside to make sure there isn't something sinister afoot. Babs has reservations about every aspect of Tim's involvement, but agrees that something had to be done about Bruce. She lets him carry on for now, but she's ready to pull the plug if it seems like it's getting too much for him. She insists that Tim drop the act when it's just the two of them.

Babs doesn't know about the supernatural stuff specifically, but she knows there's more going on with Tim than what she knows about. She may learn that he has some hereditary health stuff that requires him to be extra careful about his food intake. She makes a point to not be weird about it because people being weird about her wheelchair annoys the crap out of her.

I like to imagine that Babs and Tim have a certain amount of solidarity over being the sensible ones who keep all these unhinged, dramatic bitches in line. They also have solidarity over ignoring the fact that they are just as dramatic and unhinged as the rest of the Bats.

Steph meets Tim in Regular Tim mode because Bruce isn't with him. Instead of trying to discourage Spoiler, he introduces her to Babs. Steph knows Tim as a tired smartass who kind of always seems like he's a bit hangry and trying not to take it out on anyone, but apparently he's just like that.

They don't date, but do become friends. Part of this is because grouchy, eternally hungry, constantly done-with-this-shit Tim isn't attractive to Steph but is kind of hilarious. Part of it is because Babs points out that there is no possible timeline where the kind of power imbalance from only one member of a couple knowing the other's secret identity doesn't turn toxic.

When Steph eventually encounters Emotional Support Tim, it creeps her out. She uses the term "pod person" when asking what the heck that was.

Steph's disastrous stint as Robin doesn't happen because she's already got her own thing going. She already has a mentor and appropriate protective gear. Babs and Steph actually get along better because they start their mentorship as Oracle and Spoiler without any of the complicated emotions of taking up a mantle.

I like Steph as Spoiler the best because it always seemed a little messed up to shove someone who already had their own original Identity into two legacy mantles. Let her do her own thing. She doesn't need to be a successor to Babs or Dick when she's already the OG Steph. Instead of giving her the Robin gear or the Batgirl gear, get her some upgraded, Bat-quality Spoiler gear.

Steph doesn't start a gang war or fake her death in this timeline, because the circumstances that caused it do not exist here.

Jason initially encounters Tim in Feral Cryptid mode, then writes that off as a fever dream after waking up to Emotional Support Tim. Once free of the Lazarus parasite, Jason makes it his mission to be a good big brother to Tim. Tim seemed a little stand-offish at first, but warmed up to him. (As soon as Tim realized that food was part of Jason's love language, he rearranged his meal plan to let Jason feed him without triggering supernatural problems with his metabolism.)

Jason eventually manages to earn Tim's trust enough to meet and get to know Regular Tim. Jason is both honored and concerned. Putting on such an extensive facade for the comfort of others has got to be exhausting, and Tim seems so worn down underneath it. Well, he doesn't have to do it for Jason anymore. Jason will happily hang out with and support any version of Tim.

When Damian shows up, he mostly sees Emotional Support Tim. Then he starts trying to kill him. Eventually, Tim's patience with the pint-sized murderer wears thin (possibly due to Damian hitting a PTSD trigger), and Tim goes Feral Cryptid mode. This freaks Damian out. There is no video evidence (which the rest of the Bats assume to be because Damian tampered with the security system in an attempt to get away with murder).

It doesn't happen again.

Tim doesn't bust out his powers or cryptid form against Damian again, but now that he's seen it, Damian sometimes sees traces of Feral Cryptid Tim lurking below the surface. Various little things he'd ignored that hadn't seemed significant on their own now seem to stem from the nature of what lurks inside the human skin.

Damian stops the murder attempts early. It's not because of ethics (which will take time to learn). It’s because he has no idea how to kill whatever sort of unearthly thing Tim is, and he recognizes how unwise it would be to continue attacking something he cannot kill. For now, Tim seems content to leave him be whenever he's not directly under assault. Damian doesn't want to risk becoming enough of a pest to be worth the effort of swatting.

...

I also had thoughts about Tim's post-Robin period.

When Tim goes on his quest to retrieve Bruce from the time stream, he doesn't take the Red Robin suit. He's going to be outside of the Bats' scrutiny, so he gears up with a suit and equipment he'd secretly made with his supernatural nature in mind. It's got Bat-standard armor and padding, but modified to accommodate a bit of form shifting without compromising protection. It's got a patchwork thing going on.

Tim sewed it himself, which allows him to manipulate it. It's also got buttons sewn in strategic locations to eliminate blindspots. (Taking down the beldam gave him the ability to control things he made and see through buttons he sewed).

His utility pouches are full of both Bat-standard equipment and things relevant to Tim's abilities. Also, he makes his pockets bigger on the inside, so he can carry a lot.

Tim isn't around the other Bats, so he's not being Emotional Support Tim. He's not using the minor illusion powers he got from the beldam to make himself look pleasant. He only makes the effort to be comforting when dealing with victims. He's just being the semi-feral scrungly dude he is.

...

Tim keeps in touch with Jason, Babs, and Steph while he's off on his quest to find Bruce. He occasionally pitches in with stuff that can be done from a distance.

Tim didn't say that Bruce was still alive before he had evidence. It's not because this version managed to predict that they wouldn't believe him, but rather because he thought he might have to do some supernatural stuff to get him back and didn't want witnesses. He just told the other Bats he needed to investigate something and would tell them more once he had figured out enough to know what to tell them.

This means that the other heroes don't think he's crazy, and Tim can use hero resources for his investigation.

I haven't decided yet if Tim will interact with the League of Assassins at all. On the one hand, I think this Tim might not need to work with them. On the other hand, Hungry Monster Tim terrorizing the League of Assassins and fighting the Lazarus Pit would be funny. Maybe Ras doesn't try to recruit him. Maybe Tim just shows up, fights the Lazarus Pit, and leaves without explaining anything to anyone.

Either way, I think that Tim is pretty much done with keeping up the Emotional Support Tim facade by the time he comes home after saving Bruce. It's been long enough to justify the change.

Babs, Jason, and Steph are happy for Tim because they can see how much better he's doing without the added strain of keeping up the act. They are also glad that he feels comfortable enough to just be himself.

Bruce and Dick are more in the horrified/concerned neighborhood because, from their perspective, Tim started off gentle-natured and glowing with health, got fired from Robin, disappeared for a while, and came back gaunt and world-weary.

...

I'm thinking about whether or not Tim should tell Babs, Jason, and Steph about the supernatural stuff he's got going on.

It would have come out at some point. If he tries to keep it secret forever, you can bet some kind of dramatic, high-stakes threat would force the reveal. That's just how the Bats' lives are.

What I am debating with myself is whether or not to have Tim choose to share a secret he's been keeping for as long as he can remember for fear of the danger discovery might bring with the people he trusts most without something forcing his hand.

If he does, I think he would tell Jason first. Jason has seen that side of him, and Tim allowed him to think it was a nightmare. Tim wouldn't want to risk Jason hearing about it from someone else. Tim would probably be scared. He doesn't know if Jason will still like him once he knows that Tim really is the Monster from his nightmare. He doesn't know if Jason will forgive him for lying about it.

I think this would happen after Tim comes back to Gotham after saving Bruce.

#Hungry Monster Tim au #dc #batman #batfamily #cryptid tim drake #feral tim drake #Eldritch au

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soapyblubbles · 1 year

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⋆｡˙ 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 ˙｡⋆

pairings: prongsfoot x pureblood!reader

summary: sirius and james take it upon themselves to show you how to play a fun muggle game.

warnings: dubcon, drugging (aphrodisiac), power imbalance, threesome, degradation, praising, petting, dumbification, naive/gullible reader (reader doesn’t know much about muggle world which makes her naive in that sense.)

a/n: the way i never post what I say i will… this came to me as i was watching something where a group played truth or dare. anyways sorry for the abrupt ending..

“Are you sure this is how you play the game?”

James tuts, pushing you back into his chest and sloppily pecking your cheek. About three rounds ago, Sirius had dared you to sit on James lap and the curly haired boy has refused to let you up ever since.

“Of course princess, we’d know best wouldn't we?”

“I guess… It’s just- you guys keep making me go.” You frown when the both of them laugh.

“Hush now, puppy. It’s my turn.” Sirius, who’s sitting in nothing but his boxers (courtesy of James), gives you a menacing grin as he spins the empty bottle.

You wait with bated breath watching as the bottle lands in the empty spot to the right of him. Already you know what Sirius is going to say before he opens his mouth, his dark eyes locked onto you. “Truth or Dare?”

“No fair!” You whine slightly, fighting the urge to cross your arms. “That’s the third time in a row!” Every time the bottle landed in an empty space they’d claim it was your turn. Saying things like `well you could be sitting there if you weren’t in James lap’ and then, when you attempt to move off of his lap you are promptly stopped.

At this point, you’re just following along with whatever they say because you know they have more experience in muggle affairs than you do. But if you were being completely honest with yourself, this was starting to get a bit ridiculous.

Muggles are so weird.

“How many times do we have to explain this to you?” Sirius grumbles distractedly, rummaging through the pockets pulling out an unlit cigarette from the pocket of the discarded jeans next to him.

“Princess. We’ve already told you twice.” James scolds lightly. You frown. The weight of both their eyes boring into you makes you fiddle with the hem of your shorts unsurely, before ultimately, you decide to go with the safe route. “Truth.”

Instantly, Sirius' face twitches into a devilish smirk. “Is it true you’ve got nothing under your shorts?”

Your mouth falls open and instinctively, you try to cross your legs. James hands stop you before you can, squeezing your thighs gently. He rests his chin on your shoulder to peer at you expectantly, Sirius doing the same as he lets out a puff of thick smoke. “Well? You have to answer the question princess.”

“I- um..” You can’t answer. Can’t even think as James starts to knead your skin gently, traveling higher and higher the longer you take to answer.

James chuckles softly at the flustered look on your face. “I think the poor thing needs us to help her.” Before you can utter a single protest, Sirius is getting up, hovering over you while James uses his grip to place your legs around his thighs.

Sirius rests his muscled arm above you, trapping you between James and him while his other hand starts to play with the bow on the band of your shorts. “I guess I’ll just have to check for you.” You let out a slow breath, your eyes becoming lidded as his fingers trail lower and lower.

Without breaking eye contact, he hooks his fingers behind the flimsy material separating the two of you and lets the back of his knuckle drag lightly over your cunt. “None.” He whispers softly.

Your mouth opens in a slight pant.

Sirius revels in your attention, briefly flicking his eyes down to hum appreciatively. “Just as expected.”

As quickly as it happened it’s over, Sirius goes back to his spot across from you and James lets your legs close with a simple movement of his hands. The only sign that anything happened at all is the uncomfortable feeling between your legs.

“My turn.” James grabs your chin and turns it towards him. He whispers your name gently. “Truth or dare.”

You blink, not even noticing that he didn’t even spin the bottle this time. “T-Truth.”

They both shake their heads in exasperation.

“You can’t pick truth twice in a row, puppy. Everyone knows that.” Sirius rolls his eyes, looking bored.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Sirius mocks. He huffs when he sees the way you pull your lip between your teeth. “Don’t start crying on us now puppy, aren’t you supposed to be a big girl?”

James tisks. “Pads, don't be mean to the little thing. She doesn’t know any better.” He rubs your hip reassuringly and you relax in his embrace, basking in the comfort he supplies.

“Fine, just hurry it up then.” Sirius mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I dare you to…” James trails off, humming in contemplation. From behind you, he shares a sly smirk with Sirius as a sudden thought comes to both of them. “I dare you to drink a glass of whatever we choose.”

In an instant, your questioning voice meets their ears. “Why-“

“Ah-ah. Them's the rules pup.” Sirius quickly interrupts. “You either do it or get punished.”

James bows his head down until he’s close to your ear, “Which will it be, honey?”

“I think I’ll just drink.” You whisper.

“Good girl.” He kisses the side of your mouth, lingering a second too long before he sits back, smiling smugly at the bashful smile you give in return.

Sirius reaches for one of the bottles by the end of his bed, hiding the label from you before you can read it. “No cheating.” He raises a brow and nearly empties all of the contents as he fills your cup to the brim.

He saunters over to you and James, and suddenly you’re aware of his bare chest. His toned abs that're still on full display. You look away as he stands in front of you, heat rising to your cheeks at his brazeness.

“Drink up.” Sirius lifts the glass for you, swatting away your hands when you try to take it from him.

The drink is thick, and sickeningly sweet. It coats your tongue in honeyed goodness as it slides down your throat to settle in your gut. Beads of the addicting ambrosia dribble down the side of your mouth and before you can move to wipe it away, James is there. Licking up your neck in a tantalizingly slow manner, savoring every bit of the sugary droplets he can.

You’re not even halfway through the glass before you start to feel it. Your whole body starts to get warmer and you try to push it away, head falling back on James shoulder. “What’s happenin’ to me?” The words are slurred as they tumble out of your mouth and a sudden burst of heat, then pain shoots straight to your core.

You moan, hips bucking up of their own volition. “Hurts so bad.”

“What hurts, puppy?” It’s Sirius who speaks up first. Staring at you in a way that makes your stomach twist violently.

“My-My..” Tears spring to your eyes as words seem to fail you.

James hushes you softly, pushing away a stray piece of hair that falls into your face, and tucking it behind your ear.

“What do you need, baby?” He asks kindly.

“Need you to touch me.” Your skin burns and somehow you know that the two of them touching you will make it go away. When neither immediately moves to do so you whine, crawling out of James’ lap so you can face him.

“Please, please, please…” You’re practically in tears, clutching at James’ sleeve and desperately trying to get him to touch you.

James coos, lips forming a soft pout. “I would, but you haven’t finished your dare yet.”

You quickly straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your foreheads together. “Please Jamie. Please? I’ll be so good. So good for you…” You trail off, muttering to yourself as you start peppering kisses along the side of his neck in attempt to persuade him.

James lets out a quick breath, eyes darting to Sirius. You barely notice, continuing to mumble sweet nothings in his ear.

“Suppose, we can make an exception, huh Prongs?”

James lets out a breath of relief, tapping your sides. “Have’to take your shirt off first, okay honey?” He lets out a strained groan, hands coming to your waist to stop you from where you unknowingly started grinding on his already hard bulge.

Frantically, you rip off the offending material, grabbing James palms and placing them on your bare chest.

“Fuck.” He lets out a broken whisper, leaning forward to catch your nipple in his mouth. He sucks harshly and you mewl, hips starting back up again now that James’ firm grip can’t stop you.

Sirius’ voice pierces through the haze that seems to have been placed over the two of you. “No bra either? You really are desperate.”

He threads his hands in your hair and tugs on it harshly. A moan tears its way out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

His dark eyes narrow. “Just me?”

You shake your head as much as you can, pulling James closer to your chest. “Jamie too.”

#hunnie writes ☀︎#dark hunnie ☾#sirius black #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #fratboy james potter #fratboy sirius black #pureblood!reader #gullible!reader #sirius black smut #sirius black blurb #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #james potter smut #james potter blurb #james potter fic #james potter one shot

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 16 days

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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, flirting, fluff, angst, pining, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, girldad!Joel, tipsy!Joel, heteronormative bullshit, inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, Sad During the Holidays™, financial/mental/emotional/physical abuse, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 9k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: The more settled you get into your new job, the more your home life frays at the edges. When Joel asks you for a favor, you both struggle to keep from crossing the line between professional and personal.

“Blue Plate Diner?” you read aloud. The flickering bulbs of the neon blue sign added to the Mom & Pop charm of the breakfast place Joel had picked.

“It’s good, I swear. Just give it a chance and you’ll love it,” he promises.

You’re craving the proximity of last night on the bench together passing out candy, so you choose a booth when the waitress asks if you have a preference. Joel picks up a menu and hands it to you, and you take the opportunity to scoot closer to him when he grabs one of his own.

“So what do you normally like for breakfast?” he asks.

“Um, I dunno. Just whatever is around, I guess.”

“What sorta answer is that? You don’t have a favorite breakfast food?”

“I dunno. Do you?” You glance over to see what he’s considering on the menu, only to find he’s ignoring it completely and has his eyes set on you.

“Yeah, I got some classics on deck, but I wanna make sure you get somethin’ you like.”

“Well what’s the fan favorite?” You take a look around at the other patrons and find not a single one of them looks to be under 70 years old. “Other than maybe applesauce and prune juice,” you add.

“Very funny,” Joel laughs under his breath. “You’ll be old one day, too, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get there first, so you can tell me all about it so I can be prepared,” you shoot back with a devilish smirk.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re nothin’ but trouble?” he teases with a full body bump to your side.

You quickly look back down to the menu and wonder what he would say if you told him that yes you had in fact been told many times in many different ways that you were nothing but trouble – except not in the fun, lighthearted way that he’d just said it.

“Yeah, but I’ve heard worse,” you settle on.

When he seems to be sizing up your response, you give him a full body nudge of your own, which draws a soft chuckle from him. “So,” you say brightly. “What do you recommend since we don’t have to worry about our dentures popping out?”

He rests his arm along the back of the booth behind you and pins you with a put on stern expression. “Speak for yourself,” he huffs. He’s so broad and open sitting next to you like this. You could curl right into his side and fit so snug and perfect, you just know it. Somehow you just know it’d feel like his body was meant to curve around yours.

You giggle and turn to him, your hand finding it’s way to his lips before you can really register what the fuck you’re even doing. He stills, eyelids falling half-lidded for a moment as he watches you, and leans into your touch. The scruff of his beard is coarse and scratchy. You wonder what it would feel like against your neck, your lips, in between your legs. You tap his front teeth when his mouth opens into a smile. “Your denture guy does some real good work. Can’t even tell they’re fake,” you mock observe.

You want to touch his dimple so, so bad. It’s right there. Would he let you? Would it be weird? He still hasn’t moved, just sitting there letting you touch and poke and prod as you please. Your hand gently curves against his jawline, and your fingertip grazes against his dimple. “Is this your real hair or do you have a wig guy, too?” You meant for it to come out as a playful jab, but instead it was a breathy sort of question that betrayed the farce of innocent levity.

“I’m gatekeeping my wig guy, sorry,” he teases. “I’ll give you my denture guy’s contact if you want it, though.”

“Should I come back?” the waitress asks no one in particular.

You and Joel both missed her return to your table. Gravity feels stronger with how quickly your hand drops from his face. You situate yourself forward again to face the server. Joel still keeps his hand along your back where it rests on the booth. “You need a minute?” he asks you softly. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice even though it hasn’t emerged onto his face quite yet.

You know he means do you need more time to look at the menu, but all your brain can recognize as needing a moment to process is the insanely flirtatious banter that’s definitely crossed over into inappropriately touching your boss territory. “Um, can you just order for us both?”

“I got you,” he assures you with a smile. Your tummy flips because again there’s so much more to his words than their surface value. He does have you. He has you in ways you haven’t even begun to openly admit to yourself despite feeling it.

He has you in the way that he’s always been on your side since you first met. Taking up for you when Jeremy was being an asshole. Recognizing and having faith in your abilities to do a job you have zero experience for. Driving you to and from work every day so you had safe, reliable transportation. Calling to check in on you whenever he wasn’t in the office. Texting you on the weekends. Taking the time and the effort to explain things to you until you got the hang of it and never making you feel dumb about it no matter how many times or how long it took. Letting you come over to his house when you said you were alone at your own. And even the little things that might not matter to most people – getting the door for you, making sure the temperature in the car was comfortable, asking if the music playing was okay or if you wanted to change it.

Joel takes care of you in so many ways that on their own might seem insignificant or standard but all add up to one overwhelming sense of being looked after.

He orders for you both – a monte cristo sandwich and chicken and waffles - and you settle into easy conversation again. You’ve never tried either dish, and you soak in the eager way Joel explains them to you in detail and what he thinks you might like about them. You end up preferring the raspberry jam to dip the sandwich into over the strawberry jam that Joel liked better. The chicken and waffles are absolute perfection, and Joel is nice enough to let you have the last bite.

Your stomach was uncomfortable with fullness, but you’d have to wait until you were alone in the office to unbutton your jeans for more room. You lean back with a heavy sigh against the booth and mindlessly snuggle against Joel’s arm there. You don’t remember when he put it back after the food had come.

“Not a breakfast person, huh?” The curve of a self-satisfied grin slips onto his mouth.

“Did I eat too much?” You feel self-conscious now. Maybe he’d meant to save some of it for later? You didn’t realize how hungry you actually were. It occurs to you that you didn’t eat dinner last night. You sometimes forgot to eat if you weren’t preparing a meal for your dad.

“Oh quit it,” he gently chides. “You know damn well I’m over the moon that you liked the food. I was nervous I’d oversold it to you.”

You relax again knowing that he wasn’t upset with you for helping eat the plates clean. “You always pick good stuff. I knew whatever you picked was gonna be good.”

His entire face beams with a deliriously pleased grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe a little laugh.

He turns his head from you to look out the front of the diner, and you swear the tips of his ears are pinking just like the apples of his cheeks.

“So, can I ask a favor now that I got you all comatose with sugar?” he lobs at you and makes eye contact again.

“Ask away, Sugar Booger,” you giggle, feeling a little giddy and high off the carb and glucose laden foods. And maybe making him blush. And possibly also the prolonged proximity to him.

“Oh wow. No more syrup for you,” he jokes. “You sure you’re of sound mind? Don’t want you claimin’ an altered state later on and try to get outta it.”

“Is the favor that bad?”

Joel winces at the unintentional negative setup he’d created for his impending request. “No, I mean, it’s not– No, it’s not that bad. More just like I’m not the best with those sorts of things and could use some guidance.”

Your eyebrows lift in curiosity, and you wait for him to continue.

“So, there’s a guy on our crew – you’ve met him, I think? Paul?– and he’s been with us for 10 years this December. So me ‘n Tommy wanted to do a sort of, not like a party, but more of like a sit down dinner sort of thing? And invite all the employees to come celebrate.”

You stare blankly at him, wondering how this was supposed to be something you’d have a better hand at than Joel or Tommy.

“I know it ain’t your job duties, but I could use a little help,” he admits. “Jenn always sorta just handled this stuff, and I shoulda paid more attention to it when she was—”

“I can do it,” you answer quickly. If Jennifer had done it, you could do it. You had to do it. You weren’t going to come into this position with none of the experience she had and none of the work ethic, too.

“You don’t have to. I can do most of it, but I just need a little help organizing it and whatnot.”

“I can do it.”

“Well alright then,” he says like he’s relieved it’s settled and didn’t take too much convincing.

He pays for the meal, and you both head to the car to start your work day.

Kenzie: sssooooo the job???

Her text comes through, and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline in pleasant surprise. You’re shocked she even remembered you’d quit the grocery store and started full time with Miller Contracting. After ten seconds of consideration, you realize she probably had a little more incentive to recall more of what’s going on in your life because she wanted the dirt on you and Joel. You can’t really blame her, though. You’d be the same way.

You: omg hi! yes, it’s been really good! hbu

Kenzie: caught up w my study buddy friend again this past weekend

Kenzie: he did better this time around

Kenzie: might have to give him a better dicking down score tbh

You: gotta love a fast learner right lol

Kenzie: no fr haha

Kenzie: so have u and joel fucked yet or what

You roll your eyes. Of course she probably would’ve already had this figured out and been fucking Joel on the regular if she was in your shoes, but you didn’t have the sort of inherent charm and finesse that Kenzie seemed to possess when it came to hooking up and relationships.

You: he’s literally my boss

Kenzie: ok but im not hearing a no…..

You: you are trying to get me fired 😐

Kenzie: no im trying to get u FUCKED

Kenzie: which btw whens the last time somebody knocked the cobwebs outta that pussy

You: omfg

Kenzie: 🎤🎤🎤 lets hear it bitch i need to know what im working with

You groan and scrub a hand over your face. You really, really weren’t in the mood for this particular conversation. It had been a long time since you’d been with anybody, but that wasn’t what made you reluctant to dive into the topic. You’d told her about your past experiences, but she never picked up on the fact that you didn’t mention who they had been with. Pretty much everything you knew about having a sex with a guy you’d learned from Kenzie’s extensive and detailed exploits. She would typically take the lead on conversations around hookups and whiskey dick and bad dating app matches, and you were happy to just listen along and live a little through her tellings.

You: don’t laugh

Kenzie: oh god ok hold on

Kenzie: ok im ready

You: it’s been like 3 years ish

Kenzie: WHAT

Kenzie: u didnt tell em this was an emegenyc!!!!!!!

You: are the typos for dramatic effect or are you legit that worked up

Kenzie: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Kenzie: if i wasnt in class right now id be calling you asap im so serious

Kenzie: omfg ur poor kitty wtf that is actually tragic

You: ok actually I think I’d just prefer you to laugh at this point instead of whatever this is 💀

Kenzie: ok ok sorry

Kenzie: im just in a state of shock let me pull it together

Kenzie: ok

You: you have to remember I haven’t been with a ton of ppl

Kenzie: pure and innocent okay mary mother of jesus 🙏⛪

You: it’s not like I don’t want to!

You: you’re supposed to be helping me rn 😒

Kenzie: ok well what was he like?

You: who?

Kenzie: the last guy you were with? 3 years ago?

Ah, there it was. The default assumption. It wasn’t usually intended to be rude or presumptuous, but it put you in a position of having to explain your departure from the “norm.” You sigh and decide to give Kenzie a chance. She was super open when it came to sex and all that, so maybe she wouldn’t be like every other person you’d had this conversation with, which thankfully had been very few.

You: nope never been w a guy

Kenzie: …..

Kenzie: im so confused rn

You: well kenz when two ppl like each other a whole bunch, sometimes their crotches get all hot and tingly

Kenzie: ppfffttttt dont have to explain that part to me

Kenzie: ok so ur a virgin?!

Kenzie: 👁️👄👁️

You: nope just never had dick or dick shaped things inside me

Kenzie: hmmm ok idk if thats how that works but im gonna roll w it bc i really dont know lol

You sigh again. You know she’s probably genuinely confused and probably also trying to halfway pay attention to whatever lecture she’s in, but it’s still frustrating nonetheless. This idea that sex had to be penetrative to “count” never made a whole lot of sense to you, but over the years you’d found out that you were in the minority with that viewpoint.

You: wow ty for your grace and understanding 😐

Kenzie: i mean it could be worse we could be starting from square 1 so at least youve got some experience under your belt we can work with that

You: I’m really not trying to fuck up this job like obviously Joel is hot but I don’t want to lose this job bc I cross a line and do something stupid

Kenzie: i bet hes huge 😮‍💨

You: that’s not helpful!

Kenzie: ok ok!!! sorry i literally cant help it hes hot and has bde like its not my fault im thinking about it

You laugh at that. Joel did in fact carry himself with the confidence of a guy who was “blessed below the belt,” and the thick, broad physique he had also had all signs pointing to big. You tried your hardest not to think about that, though, because once you got fixated on it that was it. His body always felt so nice and warm next to yours, and you’d put a firm boundary in your mind to not let your imagination run wild about what was beneath the clothes.

You: ok I gotta get back to work

You: text me soon! I want to stay in the loop with everything!

Kenzie: same! 💖

You: ❤️

You’d always preferred pants, but a dress was a single item and cheaper than buying a decent pair of slacks and an appropriate but not boring top for this dinner you were organizing. There was a steakhouse that wasn’t too upscale but still landed in that clean, woodsy tavern type of environment you felt was a good fit for the crew. You knew your usual jeans and t-shirts weren’t going to cut it, so you carved out a little time to bike up to a few thrift stores in the area.

The wrap dress you’d picked had a sort of matronly floral pattern, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, it looked better on a body than dangling from a hanger, so it wasn’t a total loss. You used a few carefully placed pins to make sure it wasn’t going to fly open in the middle of the dinner, and, voila! you had a sort of cute outfit to wear to this thing.

The Sunday of the event finally rolled around, and your nerves were at an all time high. You worried that you had forgotten something or that people weren’t going to like the party or that you were going to embarrass yourself in some way. You ignored the catastrophizing as much as possible, but even your favorite, softest t-shirt was feeling itchy around the color while you waited near the front hallway to listen out for Joel’s truck.

You couldn’t leave the house in your dress without your dad demanding to know when and how you’d gotten it. He’d never approve a new dress for just one singular work function. It’s tucked away in your bag until you can change into it later. You make a beeline for the door when you hear Joel’s truck pull up. You absolutely do not want him to interact with your dad. The idea of him confronting Joel about your pay sets your panic on edge.

“When are you gonna be back?” he barks out. He’d agreed to let you go to this work event, but he wasn’t happy about it.

“It’s supposed to be from 1 to 3, dad. I might have to help clean up after, but I don’t think it’ll take too long.” Your hand grips on the doorknob when you hear Joel’s truck come to a complete stop. Bits of imagined images flash in your mind of your dad finding out you’d been lying to him this whole time about how much you made. Your stomach clenches.

“Clean up after? You’re not even getting paid for this thing. Why the fuck would you— You know what, nevermind. If you’re stupid enough to work this thing for free on a weekend, there’s no point trying to explain to you why that’s fucking ridiculous.” He huffs and shakes his head with an incredulous, aggravated smile.

“I’ll be back soon. Bye, dad.”

He settles back into his chair and flicks through the TV channels. “Fucking moron,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear.

You pretend like you didn’t hear him even though you both know you did. Joel is approaching your front door when you bound down the steps towards him. “Hey, ready to go?” You don’t wait for an answer as you scurry to the passenger side. Joel rushes to open the door for you, and you feel bad about making him hurry. You just need to get off your street, and then your nerves might settle.

Joel hops into the driver’s seat and greets you with a smile. “Well hello to you, too.”

You force a smile back. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined this whole thing by being late.” He motions for you to put your seatbelt on, and it’s only then you realize he’s got on a nice pressed button up with dark wash jeans. His hair is lightly gelled and combed back.

“What the fuck,” you exhale.

“What?” He pulls back, brow knitted in confusion.

“You– You look so handsome.” It jumps out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

He bursts into a deep belly laugh and shakes his head. “Well you don’t have to sound so surprised about it.” He puts the gear in reverse. “Get your seatbelt on, sweetie.”

“‘Kay,” you mumble absently. When had the inside of the car gotten to 500 degrees? Were you sweaty or clammy? It was hard to tell. You shove the seatbelt into the lock and slump back, all while stealing glances at Joel. He pulls out of the driveway and heads down the street. You suddenly realize you look like an absolute dumpster fire in comparison. “I, um, I do have a different outfit. It’s in my bag.”

“Oh? You can wear what you’ve got on if you’re more comfortable in it,” he offers. “It’s just the guys. Nobody there to impress. I just figured I should put somethin’ on since I’m the big important boss, right?” He flashes a small grin your direction.

“No. I, um, I actually got, like, a real outfit for this. So. You don’t have to worry about me looking like a complete slob.”

He turns his head your direction fully now with a disapproving frown. “You look nice. Why’re you sayin’ that?”

You shrug and look out your window. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sounds like you did,” he contends.

“Sorr–” You clamp your mouth shut before the word can leave it. “I’ll word it better next time.”

The drive is quiet for a few minutes.

“Hey, you doin’ okay? S’everything alright?”

You hug your arms tighter around yourself. “Yeah, why?”

“Just seem bothered or somethin’. You sure nothin’s wrong?” he presses.

“Just nervous I guess about the party,” you half-lie.

He reaches a hand over without taking his eyes off the road, and your throat squeezes tight when his hand settles gently against the top of your thigh. “You have no reason to be nervous, okay? You did a great job, I just know it. And if anybody doesn’t like somethin’ — even though I doubt that’ll happen — we’re gonna say that I did it or chose it, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s our plan, okay?” he interjects. He stops at a red light and turns to look at you, pinning you with a tender but firm expression. “You’re an employee, too, remember? So you should have a good time just like everybody else, you hear?”

You nod and slowly put your hand atop his. You graze your fingers against the solid shape of it and feel grounded for the first time all day. “Okay. I’ll try to enjoy myself.”

“Good,” he approves with a gentle squeeze to your leg before putting both hands on the steering wheel again.

The steakhouse has a private room that you booked, and you get another boost of encouragement when you see that the setup they did is really nice. Joel appraises and compliments every balloon, confetti, tablecloth color, banner you picked, and so on until he starts repeating himself. You were worlds away from the stress of your house by now, and you slipped away to the bathrooms to change before people started arriving. You situate your dress so it hangs just right, double check the pins are in place, and give your hair a quick pat down.

“Oh good, no one’s here yet,” you sigh when you rush back into the private party room.

Joel’s hands are in his pockets as he casually stands admiring your efforts for the party. He turned when you spoke and stopped dead in his tracks. “Wow!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that just because I was an idiot in the truck,” you dismiss.

“You look incredible!” he raves. He pulls his hands from his pockets and holds them out low to his sides as he approaches you with an open appraisal of your form. He’s standing so close now you feel a bit dizzy. It doesn’t help matters when he slides his hands to cup your elbows. “That’s a really nice dress. You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. Your chest might as well be on fire, and your ears were throbbing with a pulsing drum.

“And you’re not an idiot. I really wish you’d quit sayin’ that stuff,” he adds gently. His face is open, imploring you to stop the ingrained habit of tearing yourself down with simple but hurtful self-directed words.

“I don’t mean to,” you admit in a soft hush. You rest a hand on his stomach and fiddle with the small buttons there.

“I know you don’t,” he says just as soft. He smooths a cluster of stray hairs to sit behind your ear.

He nudges your chin before putting his hands back in his pockets. “Chin up, alright? Let’s have a good time.”

Your mouth twitches to the side in a little half smile. “Okay,” you agree.

You keep your word for the most part. The rest of the employees filter in one by one, all dressed in varying degrees of special occasion attire. You feel a bit better about your dress now seeing a few others wearing pretty much what you’d consider “elevated loungewear.” You recognize the names and a few faces, but you’ve never really had a chance to actually sit down and talk with most of them. They all seem friendly and easygoing. The back and forth between everybody feels like one of those scenes in a movie or TV show where everybody is sitting around for a holiday meal while the camera pans through all the boisterous, joyful interactions.

You surprise yourself by enjoying all of it and glancing around at all the happy energy zipping through the room. Normally you’d probably feel like the odd man out for not really knowing anybody that well, but the atmosphere is so warm and friendly that it feels perfectly acceptable to just be a content fly on the wall. It probably helps that Joel keeps checking in on you as he’s taken to doing.

You’re sat near the end with him and Tommy – prime positioning for whoever needs to get up and grab something or stand to make an announcement. The man of the hour Paul is seated near the other end of the table, which actually turns out perfect since most people’s attention keeps focusing his way. You make sure to keep the physical and verbal boundaries with Joel in check even though you wish you could just reach out and hold his hand.

The first snag comes when the drink orders are being taken. Everyone is getting beer or wine, and you feel a bit of panic rise up. You can’t remember the last time you drank, and you don’t want to make a fool of yourself or be the only person not drinking. It was a celebration after all, and the pressure to just pick something and deal with the consequences were weighing on you more and more the closer the wait staff got to you. You fumble with the drink menu and pray to god your hands don’t shake too much or heaven forbid your voice when you actually have to speak.

“And for you, ma’am?” the waiter asks politely.

“Um. Um… I … I, um…..”

“Oh, what about that peach moscato I was tellin’ you that Sarah won’t shut up about? You said you like moscato, right?” Joel pipes up.

You turn to him and try to hide the surprise on your face. You’d never had any such conversation. It dawns on you that he’s trying to help. “Oh, yeah! Perfect. Um. I can’t remember what it’s called, though?”

Joel pretends to be in thought for a moment trying to recall. “Hm, I think the label has a flower on it? A peach flower maybe?”

The waiter “regretfully informs” Joel that he isn’t familiar with the moscato in question. You feel a bit bad for him knowing all of it was just something Joel had pulled out of his ass to save yours. Joel shrugs and says whatever peach moscato they’ve got would do. The waiter nods and scribbles down your order before excusing himself and taking Joel and Tommy’s orders for beers. Everyone is served their beverage, and you actually think your fizzy pink drink looks pretty with all the peach slices floating around in it.

“Mind if I try some?” Joel asks when you haven’t taken a sip after several minutes.

“Oh, go ahead.” You hope he takes a big gulp so you have less alcohol to get through. When he does just that, it takes all your effort to not jump into his arms. He makes an approving face at the taste of it before setting it back down in front of you. He leans closer to you and quietly says, “Weak as shit just like I figured. You should be good with what’s left.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He leans back into his own space and gives your lower back a quick, encouraging rub.

Everyone is ordering steak and seafood and some of the fanciest food you think you’ve ever heard of. You choose the peppered mustard salmon filet at the waiter’s suggestion that it would pair nicely with your moscato. You finally do take a sip and whip your head Joel’s direction.

His eyebrows raise in question, and he breaks into a soft grin when he recognizes your pleased reaction. “You like it? S’good, huh?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod. “It’s actually really good. Thank you.”

He leans in again so just you can hear him. “Sorry I cleared most of it already. Was just tryna let you off the hook. You want me to order you another one?”

“No, that’s okay. I really appreciated that, by the way.”

“Of course, hon.” He pulls away and cuts through his medium rare steak. He offers you a slice, and you take a bite. It’s delicious. You all share a laugh when he asks if you want to try some of Tommy’s medium well steak, just so you can see the difference of how steak should actually be eaten. “Whatever, man. If not wantin’ your food to bleed out all over your plate is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right,” Tommy asserts with a sparkly eyed grin.

After dinner, a few of the crew stand to make their toasts and reminisce on times Paul made an ass out of himself or dropped a really expensive power tool and broke it or found himself in the awkward position of being pursued by both the husband and wife – separately – on a kitchen remodel job he worked. Tommy stands and says a few words about Paul’s work ethic and great attitude that keeps the hard days from being unbearable. Joel stands and offers a few words of his own and then detours a little.

“And we’ve been so lucky to have a guy like Paul with us for these past 10 years. We always wanna show our thanks to him and to all of you for showin’ up every day and just gettin’ shit done.”

The table murmurs in agreement with a few people making exaggerated whooping sounds.

“And I also wanna say,” Joel continues, looking down at you and gesturing for you to stand with him. Your legs feel like jelly as you rise and let him wrap a loose arm around your shoulders. “That this one right here put all

this together, so a special thanks to her for that.” Most of the table gives their cheers! or their quiet golf claps, and you fight the urge to run away and hide under the table. “She’s also the reason why y’all’s paychecks didn’t get fucked up when Jennifer had to leave us so quick—” Joel gives a pointed look to Corey, an employee and Jennifer’s ex-fiance once she discovered his cheating, who blushes and drops his gaze “—so let’s all make sure to let her know we appreciate her coming on board in the middle of all that mess and helpin’ to keep things on track.”

The table collectively gives a genuine round of cheering and laughter in praise of you and your role in their undisturbed paychecks. You nervously smile and wave in acknowledgment. Joel gestures that you can take a seat again, which you gratefully accept.

“So here’s to all of you from me and Tommy both. Don’t matter if you’ve been here 10 years or 10 months, we wanna say we appreciate the work y’all do. Thanks everybody for comin’ out today to celebrate.” With that, Joel tips his beer in the air to toast with everyone, and you sip down the rest of your drink.

As things start to wind down, you excuse yourself to the restroom and pluck your phone from your bag to check it before coming back. Just another reason why you could never truly be a dress sort of girl: the lack of pockets. You have a warm glow about you as you assess your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and you know it’s not just the few sips of moscato you’ve had. This had been fun. Being out with other people – and even with everyone drinking – it never got too rowdy or uncomfortable. Your chest pangs at the thought of how much you wish you could do something like this more often.

But that wasn’t your life, so you quickly brush those feelings away. You’d learned long ago that lingering on the impossible only made you feel worse. You sigh and pull your flip phone from where you’d ungracefully shoved it into your top. Your heart drops when you see you’ve missed 7 calls from your father. It drops even more when you see he hadn’t bothered texting. It signaled one of those moods he got into where he’d get indignant over the thought of having to exert too much energy to access you. You should be the one checking to make sure he didn’t want to say something or need something.

Your hands are shaking as you exit the bathroom to get a better signal in the hallway. The phone only rings twice before your father picks up.

“If you aren’t going to answer my calls, there’s no need for you to have a phone at all,” his cutting voice comes through.

“Dad, I’m so sorry, I was just—”

“Do you even know what time it is? Have you even been keeping track of it?” he interrupts.

You regretfully haven’t. You’d been having such a good time that you hadn’t thought about how long it’d been. You’d booked the room for 12-4. Hadn’t you told him you’d be staying behind to help clean up? It couldn’t be that far out of the window, could it?

“Dad, it’s a work–”

“Bullshit!” he snaps. “You have other responsibilities! You know all the shit that needs to be done around the house before the week starts!”

You flinch even though he’s not present. You knew that tone all too well.

“Dad, I swear I’ll—”

“You can’t just leave all your responsibilities in the dust just because you want to go out and get rowdy with coworkers!”

“I’m not, dad! Please just let me—”

“GET YOUR ASS HOME IMMEDIATELY!”

“I-I’ll stay up to get everything done, dad. I swear! I’ll get started right when I get home!”

You imagine he must mean pressing his shirts, cleaning the kitchen, and tidying up in general. And whatever other chore he dreamt up on the spot that you were expected to jump up and do without question.

“If you don’t get home soon, I’m gonna lock your ass out. See if you lose track of time again after that.”

“Dad! I’m leaving soon! I–”

The other end goes dead, and you pull your phone away to see the home screen. He hung up on you. The clock reads 4:37.

Joel is happy to see his employees getting some downtime, an opportunity to throw back some beers and shoot the shit with each other. They all worked so hard. It felt good to be able to do things like this for them.

You’d slipped away to the bathroom several minutes ago, and Joel excuses himself with the intent of thanking you without anyone else around. He figures he could use a bathroom break himself, and he winds through the restaurant towards them. He stops just short of the hallway when he hears your voice, but it’s not your usual tone. There’s a shakiness to it that Joel immediately clocks.

“I’m not, dad! Please just let me—”

Why do you sound so panicked? Did you say ‘dad’? Why would talking to your dad have you so frazzled?

“I-I’ll stay up to get everything done, dad. I swear! I’ll get started right when I get home!”

What did you have to stay up to do? Why did you have to get home to get started on it? How much of it was there? You hadn’t even been gone that long.

“Dad! I’m leaving soon! I–”

There’s just quiet after that. Joel immediately thinks back to a conversation he’d had with you earlier this week after you’d finished a call with a particularly disgruntled client.

“You sure you never worked at a call center or somethin’?” Joel laughed.

“No, never. Why?”

“S’just you don’t seem fazed at all by people bitin’ your head off. It’s the sorta thing you think seasoned debt collectors would be used to, not somebody workin’ at the supermarket.”

He then thinks about the way your dad spoke about you when he’d run into him at the car shop. Joel starts to wonder if it’s the same way he talks to you.

He slowly rounds the corner to find you staring blankly at your phone. Your head snaps up when you notice him.

“Oh! Joel, hi. You scared me,” you breathily laugh.

“Hey, you okay?” He can’t help himself. He considered playing it off like he hadn’t heard anything – to just mind his own business for once when it came to you – but he had to know if there was something wrong, if there was something he could help with.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. My dad just gets really worried when I’m out by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself,” he contends, a little offended by the notion that your dad didn’t trust him for some reason. Joel reminded himself that he was protective of Sarah and that your dad was probably just coming from the same place. He couldn’t blame a dad for being protective over his baby girl.

“You know what I mean,” you breathe with a shake of your head. The undercurrent of your words came through clear as day: please don’t make me explain it because I’m so, so tired.

“Yeah, alright. I, uh, overheard a little bit when I came ‘round the corner. You, uh, need to get home soon?”

Your sad eyes locked onto Joel, and it took everything in him to not scoop you up into a tight hug and tell you that he’d do anything right now to see you as carefree and happy as you’d been not that long ago at the table.

“Yeah, sorry. I can call a cab if you–”

“No. We can get goin’ if that’s what you wanna do,” he assures you. “Let me just use the bathroom real quick and say bye to everybody. We’ll get goin’ quick, alright?”

Your frown added to the contradiction of the entire situation. It didn’t seem much like you wanted to go home at all despite insisting you did. Joel knew he’d be replaying the entire day over and over in his head to figure it out.

Joel had offered to walk you inside after getting the car door for you, but you managed to talk him out of it, saying how he’d done plenty for today and that you’d see him in the morning. He waved and reversed out the drive before disappearing around the corner.

The front door was unlocked. You breathe a sigh of relief. One obstacle down, one million to go.

Your father is waiting in the foyer for you, tall and imposing. “Took you long enough.”

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“What’re you wearing?” He rounds on you now like a buzzard on rotting flesh.

Your gut turns when you realize you’d forgotten to change out of your dress. He pulls at the sleeve as if to inspect it.

“Dad, be careful! That’s Kenzie’s dress!” you lie. “If I mess it up I’m gonna have to replace it!”

“Oh, is that so?” he sneers. He yanks your bag from your shoulder and flips it upside down, emptying its contents all over the floor. You stay frozen in place as he uses his foot to kick around your things and search for some incriminating item. You almost lurch forward when he toes your clothes to the side and sees your work phone.

“And I guess this is Kenzie’s phone, too? Just borrowing a brand new phone from a friend?” he mocks as he leans down to pick it up and shove it in your face.

You shake your head, your tongue heavy and inoperative, and a black fit of rage clouds over his eyes.

“So, you’re stealing money from the account somehow, huh? Spending it on ridiculous things for yourself? How long has that been going on?” he demands.

“No, I’m not! It’s for work!” you plead.

“Oh yeah, just like this little function today was for work, huh? BULLSHIT!”

It happens before you can stop him. You watch in horror as he throws your work phone into the wall. It thuds to the floor with cracks throughout the screen in several places.

“Dad, stop! I need that for work!” you cry. You scramble to the floor to salvage what you can.

Something in your voice must tell him you’re not lying. He seems to realize you’re telling the truth: it is a work phone. You hadn’t been hiding anything or spending money – your own money from your own account.

“See what happens when you keep secrets? Makes me feel like I can’t trust you at all.”

It’s as close to an admission of error that you’re going to get. He certainly wasn’t going to outright apologize. You hold back tears until he stomps off into the living room and plops down in his chair, just where you’d left him earlier today. You gather your mess of things from the floor and try to pull yourself together enough for the hours of chores ahead of you.

You’d been close to your normal self on Monday morning when Joel picked you up. He was waiting for some somber mood or vague mention of yesterday’s hasty departure. But, you were acting like nothing had happened. So, Joel did, too. He’d found that taking your lead with these strange situations was the only thing that kept your guard down. He’d have to just work the information out of you slowly and gently.

The entire thing had left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe your dad had really just been worried about you being out past when you’d said you’d be home, but was it really necessary for him to get so upset over it? You couldn’t just up and leave of your own accord since Joel had driven you both, so why did it seem like your dad was blaming you for something you had no control over?

It wasn’t until Wednesday when he saw your broken work phone that the uneasy feelings came back tenfold. You’d sworn up and down that you’d dropped it a couple days ago and that you’d meant to tell him about it but forgotten. You’d apologized profusely for it and urged him to deduct the amount from your paycheck.

It just added to that nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. First the apparent relief of being paid cash. The fact that your dad was on all your accounts. The condescending, sharp way he’d held himself when Joel ran into him at the auto shop. The way you always seemed to change the topic whenever family or home came up. The way you sounded upset on the phone with your dad on Sunday. And now your work phone had been “dropped and cracked.”

It all gave Joel a bad feeling he couldn’t quite pin, but he couldn’t root it on any one thing in particular. All he could do was keep a closer eye on you and watch for more indications.

He takes you to get a new work phone and doesn’t leave until you’ve picked out the color you want of the newest version available. He doesn’t entertain your hesitance at accepting such a “nice gift.” He downplays it for your benefit. “Nah, quit it. It’s a work thing, but, hey, if it feels like a gift, I ain’t gonna argue with that.”

You were supposed to be getting direct deposits just like every other employee starting next month after Tommy had pressed him about it, but Joel wanted to keep that on hold until he got a better idea of what this bad feeling was that had taken hold of him. He’d been paying you in cash and driving you to the bank every other week, and he suggested doing that for “a little while longer” until he “could get some other things sorted out.”

To no surprise, you had no qualms with the offering.

You’d faked your excitement with everyone else around the office about the days off coming up for the holiday. Now here you were up at the crack of dawn trying to scrounge up whatever you could to put together something for today. It wasn’t going to be a Thanksgiving feast, that’s for sure. Part of you is relieved when your dad wakes up and tells you he’s going to Denise’s for the day. He’d been standoffish since he’d thrown your phone, but you didn’t dare acknowledge his almost rueful demeanor. If he didn’t directly address it, you knew better than to bring it up.

Just for good measure and to keep you in line, your dad explains that Denise’s parents are going to be there today, and he’s not willing to risk you tagging along and making some sort of scene. He wants to make a good impression, and it’s abundantly clear he doesn’t consider you someone that would make him look good. If you’re not an asset, you’re just in the way.

He takes the one decent dish you’d managed to produce and tells you not to wait up.

The quiet and calmness of an empty house is a rarity – a nice change of scenery – but you can’t pretend you’re not a little lonely. Something about the holiday where you’re meant to gather around family and friends and express your gratitude for them and everything else. It all amplified your solitude. You can’t keep your mind from drifting to your younger brother Calum who you hadn’t heard from properly in months.

He’d made the choice to leave almost a year ago. In truth, you’d never really felt lonely until he left. And as much as it hurt to no longer have him here with you, you understood. The least you could do was respect his choice and give him the gift of leaving this awful place behind. He didn’t need reminders of his past, what he’d decidedly departed from, when he was probably enjoying himself on Thanksgiving for the first time ever. You smiled as

you imagined the friends he might be having a meal with. At least one of you got out. You don’t begrudge him, but you do wish there was some way to know if he ever missed you.

A blanket work text comes through on your work phone. Some sparkly cornucopia graphic with even more sparkly text that read Happy Thanksgiving! It was sent by Joel, but you had a feeling the graphic was more of Tommy’s doing. You respond back to Joel on a private text.

You: happy thanksgiving :) shame you didn’t send out one of your famous emoji stories tho

Joel: Tommy made me send that ugly thing.

Joel: Thought of you earlier, by the way.

You: oh?

Joel: Yeah the parade was on, and I saw the Jolly Green Giant. Creepy fucker. Don’t remember him looking like that.

You: and that made you think of me? 😐

You snort at the inadvertently rude comment and break into a wide smile when his contact takes up the screen.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you assure him.

He groans on the other end. “Listen, I was tryna say that I thought of you ‘cause of the grocery store, you know? Canned green beans at the store? And you used to work at the supermarket, so… And the float was ugly – I don’t think you’re ugly, not in the slightest — I, well— now that came out wrong, goddammit—” You openly giggle at his floundering, and he lets out a nervous, self-deprecating chuckle.

“Been making merry it sounds like,” you lightheartedly tease.

He makes a sheepish sort of sound and admits to “having been bullied into a coupla bottles of beer by Tommy” but is quick to assure you he’s going to “stuff myself with some appetizers to soak some of it up before talking to any other employees.” You grimace at the reminder that this is not in fact some friendly call but rather your boss just sending out a mass text wishing everybody a nice holiday.

You wish you were there with him. His warmth and kindness feels like it was meant to be shared on days like this, surrounded by a good meal and a happy family. Even this somewhat inebriated version of him is so different from what you’ve grown up with.

“Sure is quiet over there,” he notes.

“Yeah, I just stepped outside for a minute when I saw you were calling.”

“Ah, well don’t let me keep you from it, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling, Joel. Say hi to Tommy for me.”

“Will do. And, uh, sorry about the green beans thing again.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me a trip to Blue Plate Diner for that one.”

He laughs and agrees that the “punishment fits the crime.” Your heart stutters at the promise of getting to cuddle up next to him in a booth again.

“So, you ate good and all that?” Joel asks as he turns the wheel.

“Oh yeah. Probably gained five pounds,” you lie with a fake laugh. “How about you? Tommy bully you some more after we talked?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Gotta remind myself that alcohol hits different the older you get. Gotta have some food in me first before I start sayin’ crazy things.” He grumbles to himself when he pulls into the office parking lot and finds a large portion of it sectioned off with cones. He spots somebody in a high visibility vest and hops out to talk to him.

You watch on as he points to the various cones and then to your office door. The worker nods and gestures to something down the road. You try to follow along to where he’s pointing, but his hand drops before you get a good look. After another moment of discussion, Joel shakes the guy’s hand and moves a few cones aside. To your horror, he motions for you to drive through.

It’s a short, straight path. You don’t have a license, but this was as simple as it got in terms of driving without hitting anything. The entire lot was empty except for the cones Joel had moved aside for you. You shakily scoot over to the driver’s side but can’t make yourself shift the gear. You’re suddenly cold and clammy, staring blindly at the wheel and the gearshift. Why can’t you just do this simple thing?

You jump at the door opening. You hadn’t even noticed Joel making his way back over to you. “Hey, you’re alright. I got it.” He hops into the truck without another word, and you barely shift over enough to make space for him. You wait for the insults to fly, but they don’t come.

No why you couldn’t manage such a simple request?! barked at you

No I have to do everything myself! hurtled your way.

Instead, he pulled into a space and put it in park. Before you’d even opened your mouth to apologize, he waved you off. “Nah, shouldn’t have assumed you were comfortable with it. That’s my fault,” he offers casually.

“It’s so stupid, I should’ve just–”

“Shouldn’t have asked ya in the first place. Not right. I know you don’t have your license, and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be comfortable even if I thought it wasn’t a big deal. I’m sorry for puttin’ you in that spot.”

Your mouth feels dry, adrenaline coursing with the stress of a reprimand that wasn’t going to come but you’d been trained to expect. He hops out and gets the door for you, just like he always does. You take his hand as you step down from the truck and hate how you have to let it go.

“You know, uh, if you ever wanted to, I could take you to get your learner’s. I could take you to practice – you know, just learn the basics. If it’d make you feel more comfortable….”

“Yeah, okay.”

You had to learn to drive eventually, right? And you weren’t about to turn down more time alone with Joel.

You listen as he rattles on about all the abandoned parking lots and empty job sites he has in mind for you to practice without the stress of people or cars around. You want to tell him that if you were with him you knew you’d be alright. You settle for a “thank you.”

◦ ty to @jupiter-soups for looking this over ◦ posting this a tad earlier than planned bc I'm going to be offline towards the end of the week and want to make sure this goes up without any issues ◦ ty for all the love thus far on this series!

tagging those who have shown interest (lmk if you want be removed):

@verybigvag @drunk-and-capable @bizarrelove-triangle @dontjudgemyobsessionpls @cumberpegg @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @umnitsa @ellenmunn @zooty-and-fruity @walw1017 @keylimebeag @beelzebeth87 @janaispunk @wand-erer5 @0vix0 @pastelnap @goodwithcheese @akah565 @fadajnaoqkzalq @confusedpuffin

#fic: chrysalism #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #hurt/comfort #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fluff

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