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peachesofteal · 3 months

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The Acheron

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 10.6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Modern retelling - Greek mythology AU. Hades and Persephone. Two Kings of the Underworld. Abuse (by reader's mother). Bad BDSM etiquette. Dom Simon Riley. Switch John MacTavish. Impact play, spanking. Ichor (blood) play. Non-con voyeurism. Kidnapping. Submissive reader. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Alcohol. Praise kink. Biting. Anal play. Subspace. Dubious consent. First they're sour, then they're sweet, then... they're sour. Tags are for your health, not mine. .A meeting, a trick, a meal.

Hebe’s is humming.

You nod to her through the crowd, a gaggle of mortals waiting at the counter, the line of them moving swiftly as they order their pastry-coffee duo for this dreary, rain slogged morning.

Her perpetually young face lights with exuberance once she spots you, and you can’t help the smile that fights into place at the sight of her. Hebe is a cherub. Soft, curved for ages, like she had been sculpted by her father himself. Today, she’s dolled up in tones of pink; pink lipstick, fuchsia stained cheeks, magenta streaks in her otherwise dark, tightly coiled hair that sits at her shoulders.

For a while, before you were brazenly corrected, you wondered if maybe your mother wanted Hebe as a daughter, instead of you. A perfect picture of untouched purity and power, an eternal cupbearer, worshipped as the goddess of Mercy. She was sweet, like her famous Portokalopita, orange syrup cake that drew a group of wanting mortals at the door every morning. She’s a stunner. A mountain of sunshine, a ray of positivity.

Sometimes, you hate her for it, even if she is one of your best friends.

Something about her cheerful demeanor can dig at you, scrape along the sticky matter of your brain, gnaw at the soft bits that you’re still trying to protect, tender pieces that match your heart.

You follow the hall to the back room, where bookshelves taper off and large floor to ceiling windows flank the east and west sides to allow as much light in as possible. There are others here, a few mortals curled in overstuffed armchairs, books and cappuccinos in hand, light jazz soothing the atmosphere through a few hidden speakers. Healthy clematis blooms along the stair rail, purple blossoms disappearing into the second floor, where more reading rooms wait, books and plants boundless inside Hebe’s.

A place for everyone.

You feed the clematis a little spark of magic, enough that the vine stretches, shivering and sprouting more flowers. “Aren’t you stunning this morning?” The plant curls around your fingers eagerly, imbued with the essence of power, drinking up the magic drops you encourage into its cell structure. “So healthy and strong, you’ve recovered so well.”

“Good morning.” A wraith of a voice whispers, and you catch the iridescent flicker of a cloud, of Nephele. The clematis will need pruning soon, probably next week, or maybe you can make time in the next few days, you don’t really have too much going on, just your birthday, and that delivery to Hera-

Ghostly fingers stroke the inside of your elbow, and the cloud nymph regards you with an insightful expression. “Earth to Seph.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is meek, and she shrugs.

“I asked what you’re doing tonight?” Oh.

“Dinner… with my mom.” She nods, and says nothing, jaw clenching, apologetic grimace lining her lips.

“And Friday… Aselgeia?” The club. Your muscles tighten. It’s been over a year since you’ve been to Aselgeia, the club of many vices, the ones where mortals and creatures and gods all mix interchangeably, chasing their own pleasure. The memory of last time heats your spine: A private room. A black chair. A stranger swinging a paddle towards your bare-

Nephele coughs.

“Yeah, definitely.” You put the box down that you’re carrying, twelve small pots containing strings of pearls, all crossbred to produce different colors, emboldened by their proximity to you in the Greenhouse for these past few months. They’ll sell well, you have no doubt. “I’ve got a few more boxes to bring inside. Don’t supposed you could do something about this slag weather we’re having?” You gesture, and she snorts.

“Hebe says they’re fighting. Probably looking at weeks of storms.”

“They’re always fighting.” You whisper it, even though most know the truth. Zeus and Hera were explosive. Tumultuous. Which is fine, you suppose, for a private life. A public life, however, one that belongs to the Golden King and Queen, should probably be a bit more… restrained.

After all, why should you and everyone else have to suffer because Hebe’s mom and dad can’t get along?

“I’ve got a lot of cataloging to do, so I’ll catch you around. Text me after dinner tonight, if you need to talk.” She finishes quietly, kindly, but without encroaching, and you squeeze her hand with affection.

“Thanks, Nell.”

The final two boxes stack comfortably for your dash inside. You're eager to get all the plants settled so you can get back to the Greenhouse, slink away to your personal temple, your place of refuge, somewhere quiet to prepare for your dreaded birthday dinner in peace.

“Hello.” A male voice calls, accented so strangely it’s impossible to place. He waves, trying to flag you down.

“Hello?” You turn, nearly stumbling back at the sight of him.

Who is this?

He’s stunning. Brilliant blue eyes study you from a mountaintop, taller than you by more than a head or two. His hair is short on the sides, but long in the middle, a fashion of mohawk you’re unfamiliar with except for in Hoplites, warriors who sacrifice themselves for the sanctity of the state. He’s broad, built like there’s a Herculean amount of muscle underneath his immaculately tailored midnight black suit, and his cheekbones complement the razor edge of his jaw, framing a full set of dark, plush lips.

He looks like a dream you’ve never had. A fantasy that failed fruition.

Fairer than Adonis. Brighter than Apollo.

Butterflies kick up a fluttering frenzied in your belly.

“Sorry to bother ye, I’m looking for Hebe’s?” Ah. You smile.

“You’ve found it. This is just the backside. Front door is around the walk to the left.” He steps closer, and you’re about to introduce yourself when you hear the whinny of a screech owl’s tremolo, a tinned melody that whistles past your ears.

Olympus tilts. Axis trembles. And so do you.

The stranger is keen, and glances around.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I um… it’s just that owl, I swear I saw the same one a few days ago… I didn’t think they were too common around here.”

“Dinnae think they are.” His eyes twinkle, celestial light that has you drifting, floating through time and space into starlit irises. The air turns heavy, hot- fresh fired bricks weighing down your chest, and everything spins, day turning to night, night molting black, deep hues of purple and blues streaking past your vision, spinning like moon, twisting you up until your balance is faltering, and you sway. “Whoa, hey.” Fingers fold over your arm, surprisingly cool, chilled, and it pulls you back into your body, spine uncurling, brow smoothing.

“Sorry, I…”

“Ye alright?” He’s still holding your arm, directing you to a bench, relieving you of your box in a swift motion.

“Yeah, sorry… I… I skipped breakfast.” There’s no other explanation, right? The handsome stranger tsks.

“Can I get ye somethin’? Maybe from inside?”

“No!” You blurt, horrified. Hebe would have a cow if she thought you were feeling faint or had skipped a meal. She takes caring for her loved ones far too seriously. “No, I’m almost done, and then I’ll be on my way home. I’ll eat there.” He raises an eyebrow, completely skeptical. “I swear.”

“Alright then. Let me help ye with the rest at least?” He’s standing with a hand extended, and you track the veins on the inside of his wrist until they disappear beneath his t-shirt, golden, tawny skin just barely allowing them to be seen. You wonder if it’s mortal blood that catapults through his body, or the rich, golden ichor that also spills from yours.

“Sure.” He lifts the box, gesturing for you to grab the other.

“I’m John, by the way.” John. It simmers in the front of your mind, stitching itself into the fabric of your magic.

“Persephone. My friends call me Seph.” Bold. Too bold.

“Ye’re Demeter’s daughter.” He comments, and you blink, fresh wave of regret curdling the sourness of your stomach.

“Yes.” Fool. Give your name to a stranger, and this is what will come. “Do you know-“

“Only in passing, dinnae worry.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Ye wear yer emotions plainly.” Your cheeks burn, embarrassed at the blatancy of his statement. “It’s refreshing. So many of us, we play too many games, hide our true selves.” Us. Golden ones. Gods.

“You’re Cloaking.” You intend it to be a statement, an observation, but with a tight jaw and frowning brow, it’s an accusation.

“Aye. Wouldnae want to scare ye away, would I?” What? Your steps slow, gait pausing in concern. “Sorry, ah. Bad joke.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” He carries the boxes to the door, setting them down carefully, and then rising back to his full height. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Well, John,” you say it with a hint of sarcasm, and it conveys your doubt. That’s not your real name, is it? “It was nice to meet you.” You extend your hand, expecting a shake, but he holds it with both of his, back bowing, lips softly pressing the skin of your knuckles, tender touch making your knees weak, your heart swooping and swooning.

“The pleasure was mine, Persephone.”

“Have you given anymore thought to your role in the coming year? Your presence at harvest, or planting, would do-”

“I haven’t.” The wine is too oaky, so earthy it takes like dirt, the opus of your mother’s existence, and you swallow it down in silence.

“Persephone.” She chides, like she has a million times before. “If you just tried, a little harder-“

“I am Spring, mother. Life. Rebirth. Fertility.” You ignore her wince. “But that doesn’t mean I’m well suited for crops, and grain, and harvests.”

“It means exactly that. Otherwise, the Greenhouse would not exist.” Her knife slices into a bloody piece of meat, red dripping down the sterling to her fingertips. “Why must you fight your destiny?” Your mind wanders to your visitors the other day, the sisters. The Moirai. Does she know? Is that why she’s saying this? Did she send them? “You spend so much time actively trying to deny me, holed up with your flowers and silly little house plants-“

“It is you who denied me.” Her eyes narrow. “You who didn’t want me to become a fertility goddess, who wanted me to be some weapon of green light, to be the spitting image of you. You raised me to be a threat!”

“Is it so wrong, that I did not wish for my daughter to become a common whore? That I had hoped to prevent her becoming such a failure? That I dreamed of her becoming so much more than… what sits before me now?” The words do not shock you anymore. You’ve grown to expect them.

That does not mean they do not sting.

“It is wrong that you kept me locked in this house, away from the world, until I was too strong for you to control.” You spit, fork clattering against your plate. Rage sears white at the edge of your vision, overflowing bouquet of flowers in the center of the table blooming into massive blossoms, edges of petals beginning to curl inward.

“Control yourself.” She warns. “Or I will do it for you.” Your pulse thunders. The air in the dining room crackles.

You do not relent. Rationally, you know you should. You know this will only end one way, that this will sever another tie to your past, to your mother, one you won’t be able to repair… but you can’t stop. The magic itches under your skin, screaming.

The ivy that covers the outside brick shatters a windowpane above her head, springing through the opening like a virus seeking a host, sticking to the inside wall. Glass falls to the floor, rain pelts the roof.

“Persephone.” Shining silver spools, churning across the table, through the air until it takes form-

The Whip.

Your mother’s favorite.

It licks your skin, your fingertips, your knuckles. A different touch, from the reverent kiss you received only hours ago. It cracks through the air like the lightning.

“That’s enough.” She vows.

You will not cry. You won’t. You won’t let her get to you like this anymore. You’re a woman now. An adult. You’re not a child, you’re not, you’re not-

She sighs. Your fingers clench the stem of the wine glass so firmly you think it might shatter.

You finish your meal in stiff silence. Its heaviness droops all around you, blanketing the entire table, your fork, the distance between you and your own mother. It’s an eon. A millisecond. Never enough because you always crave more. More space. More time. More distance. Her eyes spark, anger burning hot behind them, but she says nothing.

When she’s finished, she rises from the table without another word, disappearing down the hall.

Happy Birthday, you guess.

In the middle of the night, the Greenhouse is quiet.

Even the plants slumber, most of the daylight seekers, pistils, stamens, all covered by their petals, lying in wait. In the back, you pad along the floor of moss, allowing the tiny tendrils of green to skim along your bare skin, pulling opulent, indulgent specks of power into themselves. Wisteria lines the walls, tiny blooms of purple and white falling like curtains of stars, only parting for the archway that leads to the spring, a small freshwater lagoon that spills from the crust of the earth as hot as tea, bubbling eternally, waiting for you.

Tonight, the water is ethereal. Steam rises from the pool, slicking its stone home, and you bask in it, muscle and bone turning languid, supple in the roiling spring. It’s nearly sublime, almost perfect.

Your mother’s voice still echoes. Even now, hours later, you can hear her.

A failure. A disappointment.

Your knuckles sting from the salt of the Whip, the silver crust that slices so effortlessly, just as it has since you were a child.

You cried a lot, then.

Now, it’s few and far between. You’ve grown, rebelled, retaliated. You’ve become a lost cause.

Ungovernable Persephone.

The pain still sits so heavily in the bottom of your soul, a wretched, tangible thing that sprouts blackened vine from the earth and a whole manner of other things.

You eye the marble encasement, the walls that harbor the spring. They too, are black. Born from your rage, your sorrow. Your uncontrollable, ungovernable power that grew from the depths of your despair and built you a temple.

The Greenhouse. Your home.

Everyone called it a wonder. A feat, proof of your power. Trees and vines and branches all twisted together, building a harbor, solidifying your presence, your Golden light.

You took your first offering in this place, the glass for the windows and the roof, the final piece of your shelter from the storm, the first stake of your life as a goddess, your life of freedom.

You left your mother’s house that day, only returning now on occasions. You never looked back.

Though, you can still feel the Whip, can still hear it whirl through the wind against your supine form. Can still feel the ridges of scar tissue that never fully healed.

You could have called Nell. Or Hebe. Or Melia. Anyone of them would be here for you. Would listen. Understand.

Outside the window, an owl hoots.

You sink beneath the water line, magma rushing over every inch of your body, washing you clean of her, of the Whip, of the wounds on your knuckles.

A trembling fawn. Still to this day.

A wicked daughter to have, they tell her. A vengeful soul. Rotted to the core.

Ungovernable Persephone.

Olympus is buzzing, even on its ninth day of rain. It’s a vibration that all manner of beings can feel, creatures, gods, even humans. The ground rattles like there’s a lightning bolt shoved into the center of the rail system, electrifying the wires and tracks, zinging from pole to pole between the buildings and above the streets where cars putter alongside those who walk to their destinations.

When you were a child, the name of the city was almost dirty. It made your mother’s nose turn skyward, disgust and disdain clear as the day on her delicate features. “The golden city is anything but.” She promised, on her knees before you, gentle hand at your back. “Those who live there are heathens, and naught else. They would seek to destroy you if they knew the truth.”

For many, many years, you never step foot here.

Not until University. Once you graduated, the rope around your neck, the bit in your mouth began to loosen, and you had already lost your taste for the expanse of metropolis, more interested in your own space outside city limits where you could feel your connection to the earth, where you could indulge your power in privacy.

“It’s not the city she fears.” Melia told you one night. “But Aphrodite. Demeter’s worried ‘Di will knock you right off the whole bloody planet.” She peered over your shoulder, catching the gleam of Apollo, his bright eyes tracking her from across a crowded bar. “Trust me. She’s a jealous bitch.”

Tonight, the city is waterlogged, soaked to the bone, raindrops splashing as you slide from the car to the black door tucked inside a black wall, a soft faced Harpy standing in front of the passage.

“Hebe. Persephone.” She greets, turning to your other companions. “Nephelle. Melia.” You pull your power through the earth that sits beneath cracked concrete and heavy asphalt, spinning your Cloak up and over your body, adjusting your appearance just so. Your mask slips into place, obscuring nearly all your face, both Nell and Melia pulling together something similar.

“Ocypete.” Hebe pauses. “Is there a riddle tonight?” The Harpy grins, flashing rows of too sharp teeth, fine points that can cut the flesh from bone in a clean bite.

“No riddle.” The door creaks wide, and she steps aside. “Enjoy your evening.”

You don’t notice the way her eyes linger after you’ve passed.

Aselegia is one of the safest places in the Olympus. Here, Golden ones must be Cloaked, mortals must be masked, and creatures must go to great lengths to hide their identity. All intermingle with one another, safe in the anonymity. Gods and Goddesses usually choose to mask as well, a practice, you believe, stemming from common occurrences of violent jealousy, an effort to prevent becoming the target of one’s wrath.

The club itself is big enough to get lost in. The first floor houses the lobby, and a set of elevators. The walls are covered in shiny waxed mahogany, red wine rich carpet covering the floor, and it smells different, sweet and smoky, cigars and finely spun sugar. Intoxicating.

The elevators will take you anywhere you have access, and most can visit three floors. There’s a dancefloor on the main level, with a giant bar, private rooms in the wings, bottle service, tables. Very standard. Other floors have gambling tables, quieter music, even a dimly lit pool and sauna.

It isn’t until you get above level three that things change. Endorsements or sponsors are required. Waivers need to be signed. Negotiations begin.

Pick your poison.

You start on the main level tonight. Melia insists, and you agree, grateful to the Oceanid for suggesting starting slow, the low rumble of nerves still present in your magic, your body. The music thumps, high to low song and symphony synthesized into something electronic, and it draws you into a sway, shoulders against shoulders, hips moving in time with the melody.

“Shots?” Hebe brightens, waving over a cocktail waitress, a pretty thing who eagerly does her bidding, enraptured with the way she moves in the skintight, cornflower blue dress. Her Cloak has disguised her well enough that no one would know who she is, but she does not ever manipulate her body. A cherished rule of her own, you’ve learned.

“You’re beautiful.” The girl coos, and Hebe nods, singing over the explosion of Nephelle’s laughter.

“I know, sweetheart.”

A slick sheen of sweat coats the space between Melia’s breasts. You’re both on the dancefloor, moving with the music, Melia perfectly in time, like she was born to it, and you pull her close, slinging an arm over her neck to whisper in her ear.

“He’s here.” A god’s dark eyes glint in the night, between the passages of writing bodies. He wears a white mask, stitched with the threads of glowing sun, but his obsessive gaze gives him away. He’s transfixed, focused solely on the Oceanid in the middle of the dance floor, and she giggles, turning so that her ass is pressed against your pelvis, her head tipped back on your shoulder.

Her hand extends, an invitation. A request.

He’s by her side within a second.

“Apollo.” You nod, and he barely spares you a glance, too busy cradling his Oceanid’s face.

“You have been ignoring my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.” He tenses.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Of course, I am.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re here for Sephy’s birthday, not this.” He peeks towards you, sliver of regret flashing across his face.

“I’m sorry, Persephone.” You wave him off, not wanting to be in the middle of… this.

“It’s fine, we’re just… out. It’s not for anything special.” You look away from them, casually glancing around. You look, but you do not see. Not until…

There’s a male, wearing a pitch-black suit. A god? A mortal? He’s taller than anyone else in the room, broadest shoulders and proud posture, everything about him drawing you in, like blood in the water.

The room stands still. Silent. Empty, save for two.

Tempered water like glass, undisturbed. An undertow vicious beneath the surface, unknown to all.

“Hello.” The pitch of his voice is familiar, almost dreamlike, something that’s never been real, yet startling all the same.

“H-hi.” You stammer. His hand reaches, a magnetic force pulling yours from where it’s clawed against your thigh, and he grasps it like he’s cupping a dahlia bloom, a fragile collection of so many petals that make up an entire beautiful blossom, a universe unto itself.

Black leather caresses your skin. Clear, golden-brown eyes pin you in place, anthracite spiking around his pupils in a halo. You cannot see his face, or his skin, only what’s barely visible of his eyelids and dark spun lashes.

Still…

His beauty is terror. It’s the throat of a lamb, freshly cut. The mutilated carcass of a doe, feeding a forest. Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

It drags you out into a river, where your feet no longer touch the bottom. It sings to you from the depths.

You cannot tear yourself away.

He does not let go. Even when that same voice fills your mind.

“My darling. You shall rule all that lives and moves, you shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods: those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.” *

Warmth slips from your hand, sand flitting through your fingers, a fleeting touch of comfort and confusion fading into the night.

My darling.

My darling…

When the light comes back to you, the male is nowhere to be found. Only Apollo and Melia stand to your side, still in their own world.

“Will you let me take you upstairs then?” He croons, and your heart dances, nerves and anticipation all spiraling together like a sailor’s knot. You know what comes next.

“Only if the girls can come.”

You try to forget the strange encounter on the main level and focus on your needs instead; you’ll know what you’re looking for when you see it, and you say the same to Hebe, too, when she disappears with a male who seemed much too large to not be the son of a giant, leaving you alone on a small, velvet couch, Nell and Melia already long gone. Your second martini sits untouched, and you keep yourself from looking at any one being too closely, lest you get caught staring.

That’s when you see him.

Light blue eyes. Handsomely styled mohawk. Even with a Cloak and mask, he’s hard to forget.

John.

His mask is a red skull, covering nearly all his face, the sculpted brow severe, almost angry.

His eyes glow behind it, locked on yours.

Oh. Shit. You vibrate like a live wire, hanging onto yourself for dear life.

“Hello.” Your mouth doesn’t work. “I’m Soap.” He extends his hand, and you blink. Oh, right. The alias. Because what is the point in all this, if you give your real name?

“K-kore.” You manage to stammer, and the corner of his eyes crease.

“Why are ye here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are ye looking for, little goddess?” He still has not dropped your gaze, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, feel him in your mind, your body.

Myself.

Your teeth dig downward, pressing hard before you whisper the truth.

“Pain.” His eyes flash, and then he tugs.

John- Soap, takes you to a private room. You follow, numbly, shivering with a million emotions, stumbling through the chances, the possibilities of seeing him twice, when before he was a stranger.

A coincidence, you decide, putting it out of your mind. You’re dwelling on it too much, picking it apart, riling yourself up… over nothing. Over a handsome god, existing in the Golden city? Like you’ve never seen those before… like it’s so unbelievable.

“Are ye alright?” He murmurs, stepping up to your back. You can feel the heat of him, his warmth bleeding from beneath the suit to your exposed skin, the dress you chose wholly exposing your spine, your skin.

Your nipples tighten. Your heart races, and your thighs press together inadvertently.

“Yes.”

“Dinnae lie.” He’s gentle in the reminder, and you fill your lungs.

“I’m just… nervous.”

“Ye’ve done this before?” He’s assuming. You nod, quickly, and he motions to a very comfortable looking lounge chair, where you perch on the edge of the cushion. “What would make ye happy tonight?” Anxiety unsettles your posture, and you choke down the embarrassment that tries to claw its way up your throat.

“A… a spanking.” You whisper, pushing flimsy confidence forward. Far away, a piece of your mind, your magic, pleads. It cries, it begs for release. It urges you forward, and you lift your face to his, seeking approval. Comfort.

Reassurance.

The cold hand of doubt rears. It snickers at you. It laughs.

Reassurance from someone, anyone but yourself? Comfort?

No.

“Do ye-“

“My safe word is flower.” You spit, motioning to the stool that waits between you.

It’s an act. A song and a dance, something fake and forced. But he doesn’t know that.

He freezes. Thick tension runs the gamut, heavy and exhausting, and you smother yourself, your emotions, your reactions to this very moment.

Pain. The desire burns. It pushes you to the zenith, until you’re down on your knees, folding yourself forward.

Pain, to turn it off. Pain, to make it all stop.

Pain, to release you into yourself.

What matter of creature are you, that you can only feel whole, when parts of you are carved away?

“Up.” John commands, and you lean back, confused. “Ye’ll do this over my knee.” He bends you, with grace, back towards the soft cushion, laying comfortably, your palms flat.

A hand coasts over the swell of your ass.

“Ye’ll count.” His voice has shifted. Gone is the feather’s edge, now replaced by steel. His accent still rings true, but there’s a firmness to it, a finality. Dominance.

“Yes.”

“Ye’ll tell me yer name, and today’s date, when asked. If ye cannae answer, we’ll stop. Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I need a yes.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll go to ten, then.” We.

“I can take more.”

“We’ll decide what ye can take, when we get there.” You acquiesce, fingers digging down into the cushion before forcibly relaxing. “Big breath.” He coaches, and then-

The first slap stuns you. Only with his hand, and yet still so much stronger than last time with a paddle. It punches air from your lungs, the noise that rockets out of your throat a mix between a scream and a moan.

“F-fuck.” You croak. “One.” He doesn’t hesitate and rains the next one down on your opposite cheek. Again, it robs you of oxygen. “Two.”

“Good girl.” The praise is very small flame at the bottom of the darkest well. It barely lights the path ahead, desperately trying to catch, to grow, but it’s too easily snuffed out. His palm rubs the base of your spine to the tops of your thighs.

Crack.

The sting sizzles outward from impact, and you gasp. “Three-“ Another, same cheek. “Four!” The whistle of the swing alerts you a second before the next, and when you shout “Five!” it sounds off kilter.

“What’s yer name?”

“Seph-Persephone.” Raw warmth simmers beneath your dress and underwear, and the fire at the bottom of the well starts to rage, growing larger, eating what it’s been given, hungry, seeking, trying to build momentum. He asks you the date, satisfied at the lack of delay, and swings so high, you can see the shine of his palm from the corner of his eye. Your toes curl.

Whack. Two, too quickly.

“Six!” A choked cry. “Seven.” Your face is wet, saltwater tracing the plush swell towards your mouth and chin. You sniffle.

“I know, I know. Ye poor thing.” He bunches the fabric of your dress, scratching it across your scorched cheeks. “Ye’re doin’ so well, almost there.” The words barely register, only the sentiment cuts through the haze. Your thighs are pressed so tightly together, slick dripping from your cunt, the aching throb of your clit rubbing against your panties. You’re desperate… to be touched, to be hurt, to be whole. You need it. Crave it more than anything else.

He delivers two more strong, healthy, swift blows. Eight. Nine. They enflame you completely, fire burning in the pit of your soul, encasing you in a coffin where no one can hear you, or see you. Safe and tucked away, floating into a dark cocoon of eternal night.

At the tenth, the room changes. The air grows colder, nearly frigid, shadows clinging to the walls, and you barely register being moved, held like a child, tucked into a chest. There’s talking, somewhere, in your mind or maybe behind you, two pitches at war, a dance of wills.

“Beautifully done, darling.” Somewhere far, far away, in the last sliver of your sane mind, you realize it’s a different voice, a voice echoed in gemstones, ruby and emerald and pearl, before that too, slips into space, and you drift deeper inside the luxurious praise. A warm bath. A sunlit meadow with thousands of Narcissus dotting the hill, soaking up every ray. A golden fawn, taking her first steps to freedom.

John’s face looms into your line of sight, maskless, no Cloak.

“We need a yes.” He murmurs, cupping your cheek. “Persephone.”

“Hmmm?”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.” The words don’t match. They don’t click, they catch, they bump against each other, trying to lock into place, failing over and over.

“Supposed to go… home with my friends but-“ Your tongue is heavy, weighted beneath a giant sequoia, and you shiver. The chest that your head bobbles on catches, an arm securing you in place. It’s warm, and firm, heavier than a tree. Who…

“Little goddess.” He prompts, and you sigh, already wistfully unaware.

“’kay, yeah. Yes.”

You’re already slipping away when the world goes dark.

Your eyes open to a strange place.

You don’t recognize any of it, from the massive four poster bed with lithe, gauzy curtains drawn closed on three sides, to a fireplace the size of a giant, roaring, sizzling flame burning endlessly in its hearth. You don’t recognize the room, the black marble floors, polished to a brilliant gleam, one that you can nearly see your reflection in, or the vanity, dark oak housing a hand carved mirror. You’ve never seen the ornate stained glass window before, stretching from floor to ceiling, the size of ten men. You don’t know the bed, sized for a king, emerald silk sheets and a matching duvet, with a million pillows that were just cradling your head. The robe you’re wearing matches, the green only a shade lighter, and you tuck it tight across your body, realizing you’re fully nude.

The fire pops. It pushes a gasp from you, caught off guard, and at the sound, another being in the room stirs from the plush rug just beneath the bed.

A three headed dog.

It, they, stare at you, tongues wagging, eyes wide. Jet black fur, darker than midnight, white teeth so sharp they could rip your throat free in an instant.

You’ve seen this dog before… in pictures. Schoolbooks. You know their name.

Cerberus.

Panic races through your veins, ratcheting your heart rate higher and higher, your body and mind separating, all synapses dizzy with fear.

Oh gods. Where… where are you? What happened? You were just… you were just having some fun, at Aselegia, with John… weren’t you? Where…

Are you dead?

You reach for your power, digging deep, trying to drag as much as you could to the surface-

Nothing.

You bleat, a scared lamb, in panic. It’s a cry. A scream. An awful sound. You need your rage now, but all you find is fear. You cannot reach your power. There is a blackened lock around it, a casing that holds it away from you, out of reach.

Cerberus whines. They hold their position, tail swishing back and forth, and you scramble towards the middle of the bed. Your ass protests, skin warm and tender against silk. Your knees tuck to your chest, and you force your eyes closed, trying to take long, measured breaths without success.

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re-

The door clicks. John appears, two palms out, hesitant, and cautious. Your voice shakes, no matter how hard you try to reinforce it with iron will. “G-get away from me.”

“Ye’re alright, Persephone. We’d never hurt ye.” We?

“We need a yes.”

“Need ye to say yes, so we can take ye home, take care of ye.”

Something flickers behind him. A figure, a shape of shadow, shifting.

Dark. Dangerous. A wolf, circling a kill.

The male from the dance floor. He wears no mask now, but the feel of him, the threat of his power, is unmistakable… and familiar. You sputter on it, choking on him and John, the threat of their power combined looming, suffocating. “Oh gods.” You clutch the robe tighter. “Wh-where am I?”

“You know where you are, darling.” The other one says, and you moan.

“N-no. I… I can’t be. I can’t dead. I can’t be here… I-“

“You’re not dead, Persephone.” He cautions. “You’re very much alive.” And shaking, alive and trembling so vigorously you can hear your teeth chattering, chest heaving up and down, desperately trying to suck air inward. Cerberus whines again, and he rubs a thumb behind one of their ears. “Easy, Cerberus. She’s alright.”

“I ca-can’t be here. I have to… I have to go home.” The room seems wet, dollops of tears falling from your lashes, sticking to your skin and the sheets. Reality slams forward, rushing right up against your nonsensical mind.

It takes one gentle pulse of their power, to realize the truth.

Hades. They’re… Hades. They’re Hades and you’re… you’re in the Underworld.

Beg. Beg them for mercy. Whatever it is you’ve done, you must try.

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know what I did but I swear, I’m sorry, I-“ John tries to reach, seeking your hand, but you curl up into a tighter ball.

“Shhh. Ye hae nae done anythin’ wrong, sweet Persephone. Ye’re alright. Ye’re safe.” Safe? Safe in the Underworld? With them?

Oh gods. You let Hades spank you.

“You… you tricked me.” You whisper, raw betrayal and pain weeping profoundly in your heart. You trusted him and…

You are a fool.

“We did what was necessary.” The wolf-like one says solemnly, gaze heavy.

“Necessary?” You squeak. “What’s… necessary about this?”

“We will explain everything, after we’ve eaten. Or maybe had some more rest? It’s the middle of the night, for you.” What?

“No… I can’t… I can’t stay here. I have to-“

“Go home? So, you can hide away in your temple, kept company only by your plants and the occasional friend you let inside?” You blink, stunned, mouth dropping open.

“How do you... have you been watching me?” The stained-glass window on the far side of the room shifts, drawing your attention, morphing slowly from a tawny blur to a… screech owl.

“Oh, my gods. Oh…” The room shudders. “You can’t keep me here, I have to go…” Wolves circle, flanking where you sit, precarious and hopeless, a hand in front of your body like it will save you. “Please.”

“It’s alright, darling.” The dark one moves, blurred in shadow, magic blanketing you in a warm, comforting hold, heating your bones, encouraging your eyes to slowly shut.

The last thing you see is the ceiling, your body cradled in the embrace of a stranger.

Morning comes slow.

At first, you don’t open your eyes, even though you’ve been long awake.

If you open them, your fear will be real. It will be valid.

So, you keep them closed. Keep them shut long enough you drift in and out of twilight, until someone clears their throat.

Fuck.

“Are you going to open your eyes?” His voice is ruby and velvet. You shudder.

“Hades.”

“Technically. One half of a whole, but my loved ones call me Simon.” Your brow flexes at that, and there’s a soft chuckle in response. “Will you wake? It’s well past morning now.”

“Are you going to render me unconscious again?” you hiss, cracking an eyelid. He’s sitting in a posh armchair, oiled black leather beneath his black suit, eyes steady on yours. His face is a map of scars, but instead of seeming rough, or out of place, they naturally suit him, complementing his broad jaw, severe expression, perfectly sculpted bone structure. His nose is crooked, like it had been smashed and rearranged once or twice, but still sits as if it was meant to be, and you wonder how anyone could do anything of the like to Hades.

He's handsome, in a way you expect to die from.

“Only if you cannot behave.”

“Perhaps I could show you how I behave.” You smile with a full set of teeth, words ending in a snarl, and he huffs another gentle laugh.

“I have seen the victims of your wrath, Persephone. I have no doubt you’d strike me down if you could.” You swallow the nausea in your stomach. Your magic.

“I want my magic back.” You blurt the demand, not even pausing to consider a more tactful way.

“We did not take it, only… bound it, for the time being. It’s still within you, we would never separate you from your power.” He sighs, a golden pearl rocking in his palm, glinting in the fireplace’s gleam. “Contrary to popular belief, we are not a monster.”

“Then let me go home, if you’re not as they say you are.” His eyes harden, face twisting sour, and then… sad.

“I’ll give you some privacy. There are clothes in the closet. Johnny and I expect you for breakfast, and then a tour… if you’re good. Cerberus will show you the way when you’re ready.”

If you’re good.

Cerberus leads you through a maze of decadent marble and arches.

You follow behind them hesitantly, cautious, and they mind you, slowing when you’ve lagged too far behind.

You can’t help it. You’re mystified.

You expected the Underworld to be dark, and dingy. And while maybe it is on the dark side, with glossy, polished marble, giant onyx columns that blot of the sky, and black stone everywhere… when you peek out the windows, you’re gob smacked.

Beneath wherever you are, which you’re beginning to suspect is Hades’ palace, is lush greenery. A verdant, fertile field lays to the south and the east, wrapping around to the edge of a forest, where you can just barely make out a large variety of deciduous trees. To the North, a river winds, separating the palace from a large meadow and… a town? You shake your head, as if to clear your addled mind and cloudy vision. Is that truly… a town?

“Asphodel Meadows.” Someone says from behind you, nearly jumping you from your skin.

“Fuck.” You gasp, hand clutching your chest. It’s a man, not John, or Simon, but a stranger, clad in all black.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s… okay. I- what did you say?”

“The town. It’s Asphodel Meadows. A place for mortal’s souls.” He bows. “I’m Thanatos.”

“I’m… Persephone.” He smiles, just slightly.

“I know who you are, my lady.” My lady?

“What do you…” words nearly fail as you grapple. “What do you do here?”

“I am a child of Nyx. The god of Death.”

“I thought Hades…”

“They are the Kings of the Underworld. I am the personification, the embodiment of Death.” Oh.

“You reap.” You whisper. His jaw tightens, and then smooths.

“Your escort is impatient. I think he’s probably ready for his bacon.” He eyes Cerberus, who whines, tapdancing on slick marble.

“Bacon?”

“Yes. He’s very spoiled. Eats better than the Kings themselves.” He motions down the hall. “It’s just that way. Lovely to meet you, my lady.” He gives you another bow, and then turns down a corridor, one that had not been there before, leaving you and Cerberus alone in the empty hall.

“I- you too.”

The Kings, as Thanatos called them, are both seated when you push the incredibly heavy door open. At the sound, John rises, Simon behind him, and the three of you stare at one another for a minute, until Cerberus barks.

“Please, sit.” John motions to the only other place set, a third chair between them. You swallow.

“Uh…”

“We don’t bite.”

“Not unless ye want us to.” John smiles, sinfully handsome in the morning light. It streams into the surprisingly cozy dining room through a group of five windows, all facing east, capturing the light of… a sun?

“Is that a sun?”

“It’s a sun of sorts.” Simon offers. “We have a sky, weather. A sun, a moon. Clouds. Everything that exists in Olympus.”

“Are ye hungry?” You hesitantly lower yourself into the chair, surprised at the array of food displayed. “We ah, weren’t sure what ye liked so, got a bit of everything.” Meats, yogurts, sweets, cereal, fruit, anything you could want laid out in front of you, but it’s something so near to your heart that catches your eye. Portokalopita.

“They are Hebe’s.” Simon murmurs.

This is a trick. They kidnapped you. They’re holding you hostage. You have to convince them to let you go. The warning resounds, and your stomach thrashes.

“I want to go home.” You push the plate of orange cakes away, disappointment flickering across John’s face, exasperation on Simon’s. “Please. I… I appreciate your hospitality and you… you bringing me home for… aftercare,” you grit the word, shame rocketing up your spine. This is what happens when you trust. You let Hades spank you, for fucks sake. And then they abducted you. “but I need to go home. The plants, they need me. My friends-“

“Your friends are used to going days on end without contact from you.” Simon cuts you off, and the blood drains from your face. “Are they not?”

“N-no. They’ll know I’m missing, they will.” Lie. He knows. You know they both know, just by the way the regard you. Half pity. Half amusement. It makes your blood boil. “Fuck you.” You hiss, shooting up in the chair.

“Seph-“ John tries to soothe you, calm you, using your nickname like he knows you, and it only makes you more irate.

“Don’t call me that.” You whirl on him. “I trusted you! I don’t even know you and I let you-“

“That is the nature of Aselegia, is it not?” He counters, cutting you off. You gape like a fish. “The anonymity. Dinnae turn it on me now.” His tone melts from ice to warmth, sympathy bleeding from his irises. “I assure ye, we are more than trustworthy. We would never, ever hurt ye. We would never let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye’ll see.”

“Then let me go home.” He shakes his head sadly but says nothing, and rage snaps in your heart like the drawback of a rubber band, stinging and sharp. “What do you want from me?” John opens his mouth, and then abruptly closing it, deferring to Simon.

“You are our guest. We’d like to get to know you. I promise, just as before, you will not be harmed in our care. We will never hurt you."

"How do I know that?" You’re incredulous. “You expect me to take you at your word?”

“Let us strike a deal then.” He declares, and John nods supportively.

Don’t, your good sense screams. Don’t be an idiot.

“What kind of deal?”

“You will stay here for two days, forty-eight hours exactly. We will show you this realm and get to know one another in that time, and at the end, we will reveal the doorway that leads back to Olympus.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Two days? And then I can go home?”

“Two days.” John echoes. Sapphire eyes gleam, and you carefully, quickly, try to pick apart every word in the proposal.

“My magic.” You demand, and they both answer immediately with a resounding,

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Your power is wild, Persephone.” Simon tells you, not unkindly. “We do not know how the Underworld will react to it, and we must think of our residents, all the souls we care for here. We cannot let something upset the balance that is so delicate.” Your mouth goes a little dry. You were expecting more of an answer about control, domineering you, your magic, keeping you contained. Not… care for souls.

“Yer mother raised ye to be her weapon.” John says softly, kneeling before the chair where you sit. His hand rests on the cushion, and you wonder if he means to touch you. “We dinnae regard ye as such, but until we understand ye better, we need to protect-“

“I understand.” You cut him off. You don’t need some forced sympathy, pity, thrust upon you by Hades, of all gods. They exchange a long glance, one that gives you a small peek into their lives, layers on layers of words and sentiment, communicated with a single glance.

Simon reaches for John, pulling him to his feet and into his body, chest to back.

“Do you agree?” Two days. Two days and you can leave. You can do two days of anything. You certainly cannot fight them, or your way out. What choice do you have?

“Sure.”

“We need a yes, darling.” Darling. The pet name makes your toes curl. You take a big breath.

“Yes.”

The valley outside of Asphodel Meadows is one of the most stunning places you’ve ever been. It’s lush and lively, covered in Narcissus and Asphodelus, like a meadow one could only dream of. You're not sure why it feels so familiar, like the cusp of another life, or a nightmare, but it takes root inside you. You lay in the field of flowers, letting them cover your body, wishing so desperately to touch your magic, so you could truly feel them, the grass and the dirt and the stems here, all things that seem like they’re so full of life, so opposite your expectations of the Underworld.

“Shall we continue?” Cerberus perks up at the sound of their master’s voice, head popping over the flowers to spot both Kings standing on the path, a good distance away. They peek at you, heads tilted, and you sigh. It seems you’ve been assigned a minder, in the form of a three headed dog.

You join them on the road before long, walking silently, sullenly, John sneaking glances at you nearly every chance he gets, and you can pinpoint the heat of his gaze every time, the throbbing intensity of his focused power nearly bowling you over.

“So, there are two of you?” What are you supposed to talk to the Kings of the Underworld about, anyway?

“Aye. It’s a little-known secret. One realm, two gods to rule.” You frown, perplexed.

“But… you haven’t always been that way?”

“No.” Simon answers. “We were once Golden brothers in battle, long before your time, before becoming this. When we fell in love, our souls split. They merged with our magic, tied us together eternally. Now, we rule as one.”

“So, you’re married.” You deduce.

“In the most permanent way you can think of.” They stop short of a bridge, one that crests high over a roaring river, and Simon gestures broadly. “Persephone, this is the Acheron.”

The Underworld is a place of rivers, you learn. Waterways that hold power, that possess the ability to cleanse you, free you, burn you, punish you. There is a river of fire, a river of weeping, a river to forget.

The Acheron is the river of woe.

Fitting, you think, standing on the bridge. Below, bright turquoise water rushes by, crashing into rock and boulder, each sound more akin to a scream than the thunder of a tributary. Mouths, long and full of despair, wail beneath the current, wraith like creatures with bone white skin and eyes skimming along the top.

You get lost in them. Lost in the irreversible cycle of woe, desolation creeping up inside your own self as you peer down into the depths. Are you not like them? Despondent. Bleak. Isolated. Is that not what you’ve made with your life, what was chosen for you? Hidden away, sharpened like an axe never to be used. Are you not alone, like them? Trapped, like them?

You don’t even realize you’re leaning forward until pressure rests at your back. “Easy. Dinnae want ye fallin’ in.” John murmurs, stepping away the edge, bringing you with him. Your limbs feel shaky, and you wonder if it’s because you just almost went over… or because you didn’t eat earlier.

“Sorry. I uh-“ you don’t know how to explain it, that feeling. The agony that bubbles up in the back of your throat.

“We know.” Simon regards you with empathy, understanding, and you shake the attention loose, pushing ahead of them, down the bridge and into town, into Asphodel Meadows itself, eager to leave the river and its woe behind.

In town, the Kings are well received. It surprises you, to watch them in the street, welcomed by the souls who live there. They take you on a tour, introducing you to residents, explaining the structure, the magic and the infrastructure that makes it all work. Souls take their preferred form in Asphodel Meadows, allowed to choose for themselves, whatever they feel most comfortable in, and you’re shocked that such benevolence would be bestowed upon anyone in the Underworld.

Why are they showing you this? Why go to such great lengths? What is the purpose?

“Hi.” A small voice breaks you from your confusion, and you find a small girl at your feet, bouquet of Narcissus clutched in her tiny hands. You crouch.

“Hello.”

“I’m Phoebe.” She giggles, cheeks round and rosy.

“I’m Persephone.” You incline your head. “Phoebe is a beautiful name.” Your heart pangs. She’s so small, so… fragile. How did she die? Where is her family? Is she here alone?

“Thank you, my lady.” She tries to bow, and you rush to stop her, stilling her with a hand.

“Are those for me?”

“They are. Johnny said they’re your favorites.” Johnny? You glance over to where they stand, both turned your way, something unreadable in their reflections.

“Well, thank you. They’re lovely.” She wishes you well, skipping off in another direction, and you meander across the street, unable to hide your quizzical expression.

“Johnny? Not Hades?”

“Ach. The kids they’re… they’re usually a wee bit scared, first thing. It’s better for them, if we’re friends.” He shrugs, but Simon watches him in reverence, pure love and light beaming from his gaze, adoration in every slow blink.

Your heart skips.

Fuck.

“Are you not hungry?” Simon muses, walking beside you and John in the castle. Your shoes tap along the way, echoing, and Cerberus barks. John glares at them.

“I… I am afraid to eat here.” They both stop short.

“Why?”

“I have always heard… a myth. That if you somehow find yourself here and you eat, you’ll become trapped, stuck here forever.” Simon chuckles, dry and warm.

“No, darling. Please, we do not wish for you to starve.”

“The legend isnae true. Only by eating whole pomegranate seeds that ye pluck from the flesh of the fruit yerself, can ye become bound to the land. And we dinnae serve those.” He winks, stepping a little closer. “Ye can eat, little goddess. Please. Join us for dinner, we insist.”

“Okay.”

Simon is not at dinner.

John makes no mention of it, and only when you’re halfway done does he offer an explanation, something important that needed to be tended to.

“Ye look stunning.” He hums, and you have half the decency to smile. You chose a dress from the never-ending closet, black to match their suits, for fun. Its back is open, and the front offers a generous view of your breasts, but not quite enough.

You felt like sin. Johnny has been staring like you are. And maybe, you didn’t want sex, but you did want to punish them for their treachery. If only a little bit.

For making you a fool.

“So, no Simon?” He swallows a mouthful of red wine.

“He apologizes. Somethin’ came up.”

“That’s alright.” You shift, legs crossing. The transition is unintentional, but it draws Johnny’s eyes to your knees, and up. You lift your glass, the largest goblet of red wine you’ve seen, and allow a small river of red to run from the corner of your mouth to your neck. It traces the valley between your breasts, and Johnny growls.

“Persephone.”

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Ye’re playing with fire.” He grits, the gleam in his eyes one of a predator.

“I’m not playing with anything,” you hiss, slamming the glass down. It shatters, it sloshes, it spills onto the table and into your lap. “You’re the ones playing with me. Kidnapping me, holding me hostage.” Your anger builds, overflowing inside your soul, clawing at the locked box of your magic. Cerberus whines, galloping across the floor and out the main door, but you hardly notice, too focused on spitting as much fire and venom at your captor as you can. “Touring me around the Underworld, making yourselves look like some benevolent, beloved rulers when really all you are… are gods of death and decay.” John stares at you, wild eyed. Your chair clatters to the ground as you stand, fury rocketing through every vein in your body, ichor pulsing beneath your skin. You’re so, so close to your power; you can taste it. Can feel the way it screams, how it howls to you, churning in the depths of your being, rattling the cage it’s trapped inside.

Trapped. You’re trapped. Like always.

Your vision blurs, and you take a step towards John. It all happens so fast, so lightning quick that it doesn’t even register until your hand is swinging through the air and across his face.

He does nothing. You feel the rumble of his power, pushing and pulling at the seams of your very being, waiting to tear your apart, but he holds himself at bay.

Only watches you with cold, wrathful eyes.

The air chills.

“That’s enough.” Simon stands between your bodies. Power, so potent, so strong, wraps tight, shoving your wrists together, Golden cuffs immobilizing you, holding you still. “You want to be a disobedient little brat, is that it?”

“YOU STOLE ME!” You scream it, raw and agonized. It tries to burst through your skin. Tries to explode your vessels. Your very heart. Your chest heaves, eyes wide, and John flanks you, coming closer and closer until you can feel his heat against your side.

He’s hard.

“What did ye think ye were doin, sweet Persephone? Did ye really think you could strike me?”

You don’t have an answer. Words die on your tongue. Guilt burns. Did you want to hurt him?

Did you?

The cuffs yank you forward. They singe your skin, dragging you to the table. “What’re you doing?” They drag you across the food until you're climbing on top, until your whole body is prone, feet dangling above the floor, bent at the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?” Simon mocks. Hands grip your hips, and your traitorous body clenches. “This what you need, little goddess? Need to be punished?” Your dress is shoved up around your waist, exposing your skin to the frigid air, and you force away a small moan. “You need your pain, darling?” Yes. Fingers pinch the back of your neck. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” You snap, darting daggers with your eyes over your shoulder. His answer is a chuckle.

“Turn your head.” He hisses, hand on the back of your skull. When you do, you come face to face with Johnny’s hips, the length of his cock freed from his suit pants and bobbing right in front of your mouth.

Oh, gods.

He strokes it slowly, the pink- nearly red tip oozing pre-cum, long and thick in his fist, his size enough to make your thighs press together, cunt throbbing with delight. Traitor.

“Open, darling.” He smears it against your lips. You tuck them in tight, trying to keep them closed, and he looks over, to the god who stands at the curve of your ass.

Simon takes a handful each of your cheeks, spreading you wide. He kicks your feet too, knocking your legs into an A-frame, fully exposing your weeping cunt.

“She’s dripping.” He announces, a finger sliding through your folds, body jolting with his touch. He circles your clit, barely, not enough, and you whine indignantly. It’s enough to loosen your lips, enough for Johnny to grasp your jaw, shove the tip of his thumb between your teeth, and then pry you open.

Once he gets the tip of his cock against your tongue, it’s over. Salt and earth dab along your tastebuds, and you drool on the table, trying to breathe through his rhythm, trying to focus as Simon tucks a finger into your hole, slowly pumping in and out, occasionally pulling free to swirl it around your untouched rim.

One finger inside you is enough to burn, heat rising through your belly, walls clenching tight, and John groans, pressing into the back of your throat, cutting off your airway.

“So good, all day.” Simon grits, stroking your clit in tiny circles. “Sweet Persephone, and now,” he’s building you closer, so close to the precipice, to the top of the mountain where you’ll hope he’ll throw you off.

But it’s not enough.

“I know darling, don’t worry. I’ll give you your pain.” He croons. John thrusts hard, drives into you vigorously, head thrown back. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck, and you watch a slow rivulet dip beneath his collar. He’s so… they’re so…

A hand cracks across the tender skin of your ass, rippling out like a shockwave. You choke.

You clench. The tide rises.

“Fuck. There you go.” Light dances in front of your eyes, small pinpricks of stars, and you gurgle on the dick that shoves down your throat. Another strike, the same side, and you cry out, gasping for air. The tip of his finger gently pushes against your rim, and then it’s replaced with a mouth, a hot, intrepid tongue, swirling around as your hips buck and he plays with your clit.

You’re going to die. You’re going to explode. You need more.

You try to tell him, try to choke it out around John’s shaft, but it’s like he knows, like he’s reading your mind, and he pulls away to dig his teeth into the plump swell of your ass, biting down so hard you think you’re bleeding.

No. You are.

You scream.

Rivers of ichor paint your skin. The next spank comes directly over the puncture wounds, and instead of screaming in pain, you moan in pleasure, head held in Johnny’s hands, your face a tool for him to fuck, your pussy squeezing down around the single finger stroking in and out of your body. He swings again, and again, fire lighting behind your eyes, explosions going off one by one, your orgasm cresting, rising in the swell of an enormous wave, and just as you’re about to come, Simon plunges a finger deep into your ass, shoving you off the mountain.

To where they catch you below.

The rest is a blur. John finishes down your throat, salt and sweat and tears all mixing in your mouth, and he moans your name as he gives you a belly full of seed.

You’re limp, floating, drifting higher and farther than you ever have before, not in your body, not even in your own mind. Hardly cognizant when you’re picked up, tucked away in the shelter of a chest and carried down the hall. You close your eyes.

You come back a little bit when you’re placed in shallow hot water, a steaming, rocky pool, your face settled in Johnny’s neck. Cloth and deft fingers rub your shoulders, your waist, anywhere you might feel sore, even the bottoms of your feet.

All the while, they talk.

It starts simply, sweet words that fills you up until you can’t take anymore. “Did so well, darling. So good for us.” John murmurs in hushed tones as Simon shifts you, turning you on your belly to run the cloth between your legs and over your ass. It stings, and you hiss, but you’re soothed with an apology, gentle kisses down your spine, each one pressed with praise.

It’s not long before you’re tucked into bed, turned over on your side, some sort of magic and salve being applied to the bite in your skin. You’re gone now, barely aware, barely awake, but with it enough to catch the little bits here and there.

“-talk about it tomorrow.”

“If they’re from Demeter, I’ll-“ No. Not this. Anything but this. Distress catches in your chest, and fingers stroke your cheek.

“Shhh, sweet one. Rest now.” There’s a little touch of magic, a barely there pulse of power, and you let it take you into the soft comfort of sleep, bedded down like a fawn, cradled between two Kings.

*Hymn 2 to Demeter, line 347

#peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #AIV #ghost x reader #hades and persephone #AIV(OFK)#modern retelling

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madelynraemunson · 1 month

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

838 notes · View notes

bluesidez · 17 days

Text

GymRat!Miguel Part 5

content warning: very fluffy, PDA ➡️ something in which the reader is shy about and Miguel is hungry for, Miguel’s bday is 10/13 here, it gets suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, George O’Hara is NOT abusive in this story and he will be Mexican here idc idc idc, some mentions of food (deer meat at one point), some of the gym photos are white men (my deepest apologies, I just want y’all to have an idea of the pose 😔)

word count: 4.3k (just nod and smile. she's thicc like me😗)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who learns your schedule front to back. He’s always there to walk you to your classes and carry your heavy bags and purses. Sometimes he’ll meet you outside of your dorm, sometimes you’ll send him your location and he’ll come running. Now, you both walk into the lab building hand in hand and leave the building swinging hands. You used to despise those lovey-dovey couples who were stuck in their own world, but now you could understand them completely. They were still a little annoying, though.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a habit of sending you post workout pictures in the early mornings. His go-to poses are the worm’s eye under-chest, the standing mirror, the bench mirror, and the back mirror. The last one was specific to his dorm bathroom, too shy to take his shirt completely off. Your thorough praises made him feel warm, but sometimes you let more silly things slip.

“You could probably choke me with your thighs and I’d be thankful”

“Baby don’t say that. :(( I would never hurt you”

“Oh so you can want me to sit and lay on you but I can’t ask for the same? Wow. The double standards”

“That’s not fair. You should sit on me. I can take it and I want it. Thoroughly.”

“Oh! So you’re saying I’m not strong enough. Got it.”

“Baby I never said that!”

“Whatever Miguel 🙄”

“ㅜㅜ”

“You never answered me though. Will you sit on me?”

“Go get ready for class 😒”

“😞”

GymRat!Miguel who tells you that his birthday is coming up at the last minute possible. You berate him for telling you so late and kick yourself for not asking sooner, but you still manage to get a reservation at one of the fancy local restaurants.

You pull out all of the stops you could. A gift card from Smoothie King, a pair of slippers to match yours, the newest Final Fantasy game, and a muscle bunny keychain to match your muscle bear keychain. He was your big teddy bear, after all.

You handed him the gifts after the staff brought out a chocolate cake with sparklers on it while singing at the top of their lungs. The chocolate syrup read “Happy Birthday Miguel 🤎” around the plate.

Miguel’s smile got bigger as he took the gifts out one by one. He paused when he got to the cards: one a birthday card and the other a thick “open when…” manilla envelope.

The birthday card was simple and sweet. It was the other stuff you were worried about. You found these cute ideas about letters and notes to leave for your significant other. You had one for anger, sadness, needing a hug, sickness, boredom, and even one for wanting a kiss. You remember Jess walking in on you with your lips smashed against the cardstock, trying to get a bunch of kiss marks to cut out. She just sighed out a “young love” and carried on to her side of the room.

“It’s only been a short time since we’ve been dating, but Thanksgiving and Christmas break are coming up so I wanted to leave you with something for when you can’t reach me.”

Your heart is thumping as Miguel takes the cards out, reading their envelopes.

What you don’t expect is for Miguel to start crying.

You startle a bit, scared that the gift is awful, but he lets out a watery thank you, flustered from everything.

You quickly make your way to his side of the table and hug him. You wipe at his eyes and chuckle at his cuteness, telling him you were afraid he didn’t like it.

He shakes his head, breathes deep and slow to calm his emotions.

“No, I will definitely be using all of these. I really appreciate this. Everything. I’m not sure how you were able to do all of this, but I’m thankful that you did.”

You couldn’t take it. Here he was with dewey eyes and red tinting his cheeks. It was cuteness overload.

You face him towards you and lean forward, connecting his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stares at you stunned when you lean back. That was your first kiss with him. His first kiss with you and he was sitting here with his cheeks damp and nose sniffling away.

“I-” his heart picks up and he’s opening and closing his mouth. He was short circuiting.

“Can we- I mean if it’s ok, can we do that again?” Miguel stutters out.

You simply nod your head and lean in again, this time tilting your head.

The cards in Miguel’s hands drop to the table and his breathing stops. Your lips were soft and full. Another fraction of his dreams that were nothing compared to the real thing.

He could only hear his heartbeat and the soft jazz music in the restaurant when he let up for air.

This was definitely the best gift of the night.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed when the waiter comes and asks if you two need anything while he’s leaning down for another kiss.

He just got to kiss his dream girl. Who cares if the waiter saw him kiss you some more?

You jump when the waiter’s hands come close to you two as he picks up an empty dinner plate. You look to the waiter awkwardly to apologize and ask for the check.

This just makes Miguel want to pull you in his lap and kiss you as the entire staff goes by.

GymRat!Miguel who wants you to feed him bites of his cake. You happily agree, especially since he was the birthday boy. His eyes never leave you the whole time.

GymRat!Miguel who grabs the check before you can pick it up. He doesn’t want you to pay for the meal.

“Miguel, it’s your birthday. I picked the restaurant and reserved the seats,” you say a little whiney.

“But I want to pay for the dinner,” Miguel pouts as he holds the check out of your reach.

When he got like this, it was hard to change his mind.

“If you let me pay, I’ll give you another kiss.”

“Just one?” Miguel brings the check back to your level, squinting at you.

You sigh, “I’ll give you ten.”

“Deal.”

Miguel gives you the check with a giddy smile and you slap your card on it.

The kisses still don’t stop him from taking over the tip.

So stubborn.

GymRat!Miguel who texts Gabriel once he’s back in his dorm. He sends pictures of everything from the food to the cake to the gifts.

“Look at what my baby did for me 🤪”

“The same one you left at the party even tho you blew up my phone about her for weeks? 😕”

“Yes…I didn’t do it on purpose. Me and her talked about it already”

“jk jk it wasn’t your fault”

“No way she got you final fantasy. Dana barely got me a cupcake”

“This just proves that my gf is better”

“Tbf tho you and Dana are still in high school”

“Ohhhh my god. You turn one more year older than me and all of a sudden you have the wisdom of a sage. SHUT UP 😭”

“I’ll literally be in college next year”

“AND ANYWAY you’ve never shown me this so-called gf. How do Ik you haven’t gone insane?”

Miguel clicked the back of his teeth in annoyance. Peter walked by him with his eyebrow raised and Miguel just waved his hand.

He sent a picture he took of you from tonight. You looked amazing in that dress and your eyes were beautiful and deep. You were smiling at him from across the table.

“First you try to steal Dana from me and now you get her”

“It’s crazy how this world is so anti-Gabriel”

“What are you yapping about”

“And I didn’t take ANYTHING from you 🫵🏽”

“We were 6 and 7 and you couldn’t push her hard enough on the swings. When will you get over that?”

“It burns all the same”

“You should give me her number and I can let you experience that feeling”

“Gabriel.”

“Show her what a real O’Hara is like”

“Cabrón”

“You’re so lucky I’m not next to you right now”

“THE BIG C WORD?”

“I’m telling mom you called me that btw”

“All because I wanted to meet your gf ☹️”

“Bastard”

“I’M TELLING MOM YOU CALLED ME THAT! WTF?”

It wasn’t long before Miguel’s mom was calling his phone to berate him. He pressed the green button, air pushing out of his nose as his mom’s face filled up the screen.

Peter looked bug eyed as Conchata’s rapid fire words filled the room.

“Ma! That’s so not fair! Gabri called me a bastard!”

There was a quick pause as his mom made a face that he knew all too well. Miguel heard Gabriel yelp as a sandal made a loud impact with his skin.

Miguel heard Gabriel cry out as his mom took off her other shoe, ready to aim, “MIGUEL HAS A GIRLFRIEND!”

Miguel just threw his phone on the bed and groaned. He could hear Peter snickering from his desk.

“What girlfriend? Miguel! Where are you? Come back and answer me,” Conchata’s voice got louder and louder. “I can’t believe you two! You would think this distance meant that you two wouldn’t fight like you’re still sleeping in the same room.”

“We’re not fighting,” Gabriel said. He smirks as he gets in the camera next to his mom. “Miguel is still hiding things from you, though.”

Miguel picked the phone up again with a frown on his face. Gabriel just stuck his tongue out like the brat he was.

“Mijo, what’s going on?” his mom asked, concern in her voice. “First, it was the party and now this. Do you need to come home?”

“No, ma,” Miguel sighed. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine now. Great even.”

“Then why haven’t you told me about this girlfriend of yours?”

“We just started dating. It’s still very new,” Miguel chose his words carefully. Ever since his second seamster in high school, she’s been super sensitive towards him and his feelings. Knowing her, she might give you a hard time. He didn’t want that for you just yet. “I didn’t want to introduce you to her until we were more solid.”

“I think a girl that helps to organize the take down of a sorority in your honor is pretty solid,” Gabriel comments off camera.

“She did that?!” Conchata stares at Miguel with furrowed brows.

Miguel only nods, lips wound in a tight line.

“Oh well, mijo, I have to meet this girl!”

“I don’t think-”

“Let me know when she’s free to come home with you! Maybe over Thanksgiving?”

“Ma, she has her own family-”

“Ok I have to go now! I have to catch my shows. Call me more often or I’ll have to come up there!”

The room fell silent as the call ended and Miguel was met with his messages with Gabriel again.

“CHECKMATE!”

Miguel still wanted to throttle him.

GymRat!Miguel who’s super excited when Halloween comes and you want to wear couple costumes. He hasn’t done costumes since early middle school. Growing up meant realizing that some people your age want to grow up. Fast. No one wanted to dress up in silly costumes anymore or go trick-or-treating. Sure, the scary stories were fun but at that age, he wanted to eat candy all night, not teepee houses and run in the woods.

He’s hanging out on his bed chatting with Mary Jane and Peter while you get ready in the bathroom. The theater and art department collaborated together to host a costume party. This time, Miguel wouldn’t leave your side. Maybe if you had to pee, he would consider waiting awkwardly by the door. He didn’t want the same mistake to happen.

The two of you decide to go as Starfire and Nightwing grouping up with MJ and Peter who dress up as Raven and Beast Boy for a Teen Titans theme.

The costume is pretty tight but he has to admit, it looks great on his build.

You walk out of the bathroom with a cheery “I’m ready!”

It’s definitely not ideal that his suit is so tight.

The skirt is hugging your body in every which way. The cut-outs at your hips had his fingers twitching. To top it off, the diamond cut out for your chest left him internally screaming.

Peter whistled from his desk and MJ hollered about how good you looked. You smiled bashfully, doing a 360.

Miguel wanted to shove MJ and Peter out of the room to reenact what Starfire and Nightwing actually got up to when they were by themselves.

You walk up to him and flip your flaming hair back playfully.

“Do you like it?” you ask, peering up at him.

“I think he more than likes it,” Peter mumbles out in a stage whisper. MJ elbows him softly in the stomach.

Miguel spins you around, “Fuck yeah.”

Your laugh falls out of you, surprised at his curt reaction.

“Honestly, you two can go ahead to the party and we’ll just hang out here,” Miguel said, face as serious as ever as he wrapped himself around you from behind.

“No, no, no! You can do whatever you want after the party. Keep it in, buddy,” Peter says as he starts to guide everyone to the door.

Miguel keeps himself attached to you all night.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you bring your things to your car for Thanksgiving break. It’ll only be a week but he feels like he might not make it.

“You’ll see me again next Sunday, Miggy” you say to him as he’s bent over you with the biggest pout out ever.

“I’m still gonna miss you,” Miguel leans further with his forehead on yours. “Wish you could come with me.”

“Maybe over the winter break we can plan a time to meet outside of school.”

Miguel just sighs dramatically.

You decide to say fuck it and kiss him in the middle of the almost empty parking garage.

Miguel doesn’t let up now that you’ve given him an inch. He’s holding you by your hips, your face, your waist, anything to get closer. He moans a bit into your mouth as you open up.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper, “I really have to get on the road now, baby. And so do you.”

Miguel slumps as he guides you to your driver’s seat. You roll the window down and pucker your lips for another kiss.

Miguel obliges easily and asks, “Call me when you get there?”

“Of course,” you say.

He stands and watches you drive off, missing you already.

GymRat!Miguel who is almost knocked down when he opens the door to his home. Gabriel is wrapped around him like a koala, squeezing away.

Miguel laughs and rubs his back, relieved that he’s not heavy enough to knock him over.

“It’s good to see you too, Gabri,” Miguel laughs.

Conchata peaks around the corner and almost cries at the sight.

“My boys!” She coos while coming to the door. “George! Come help Miguel with his bags!”

Miguel waddles in with Gabriel still clinging to him. He’s glad to be home.

GymRat!Miguel who gets your call in the middle of Gabriel watching him play Final Fantasy. He pauses the game and runs to his room, Gabriel yelling at him to come back and unpause the game.

You tell that you made it home and that you’ll call him later.

You blow a kiss at the screen and he catches it with glee before you end the call.

Miguel is glad you left before Gabriel opens his door like that one big bird meme.

“Was that her?” he asks, voice excited. “Is she still on the phone?”

“Yes. No. Why are you eavesdropping like a creep?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! It just dawned on me a little too late that you left to go talk to her.”

“Whatever,” Miguel groaned. “Let’s just get back to the game.”

“You know you can’t hide her from me forever, right?” Gabriel says, skipping next to Miguel.

“I’m not trying to. But you being a weirdo will make me want to.”

Conchata passes by them with a laundry basket on her hip, “Who’s hiding something?”

“Nobody!” Both Miguel and Gabriel shout in her direction and run back to their game.

Conchata rolls her eyes and continues to her bedroom.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes overwhelmed on Thanksgiving Day. It’s as if every close and distant relative was here. The first floor was full of people. As much as Miguel puts on, he’s never been an much of an extrovert.

He’s up in his room taking a breather. He pulls out one of the cards you gifted him. The one for when he missed your kisses.

He opens and pulls out a letter. There’s instructions on it.

“Each shade is for a different feeling!”

There was a cute chibi doodle of you kissing him on the cheeks at the bottom of the letter. He saw that there was a shade for nervousness/being overwhelmed.

He pulls out a polaroid of you and opens the bag of glossy paper kisses. He flips one and it reads, “Breathe slow and steady 10 times. Kiss me when you’re done.”

He does as you say and brings the paper to his lips. It even smells like you. Sweet. Fruity.

He smiles to himself and takes out one more.

GymRat!Miguel who finally lets Gabriel talk to you on Friday.

“He can be a bit annoying. I’m warning you now,” Miguel says.

“Don’t say that, Miggy. He’s your brother! He’s allowed to bother you at least a little. ”

Miguel yells for Gabriel to come in and he’s running to snatch Miguel’s phone.

“Hi! My name is Gabriel, the better O’Hara. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh my gosh,” Miguel watches as you gasp. “It’s like another Miguel!”

Miguel snickers as Gabriel groans loudly in annoyance.

“I don’t look like him. He looks like me!” Gabriel pouts.

“Well, you both sport that same O’Hara pout.”

Gabriel and you chat for a long time. Miguel had to cut the conversation short when Gabriel started to tell embarrassing stories from their childhood.

“Alright, you’re done,” Miguel says and snatches the phone back.

“Aw, but we were just getting to the good stuff!”

“Yeah!” you say. “I wanna know how you messed up the science lab in middle school!”

“Nuh uh, Gabri is running his mouth too much. Get out.”

“I can’t wait to see you in person!” Gabriel shouts as Miguel pushes him towards the door. “You can meet my girlfriend too! She’ll love you!”

“I can’t wait,” you say, laughing as Miguel struggles to detach Gabriel’s fingers from the doorway.

GymRat!Miguel who talks to you on the phone until you fall asleep. You look adorable as you’re blissful to the outside world. Your cheek is squished on your pillow.

He has the urge to bite it like it’s mochi.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” he whispers before he closes his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of your breaths.

He didn’t know that you were still partially awake to hear him.

GymRat!Miguel who picks you up and spins you around after the break. You squeal in shock, surprised that he could pick you up in the first place.

“Baby, I lift much heavier weights at the gym. This is nothing,” Miguel stares at you as if you have two heads when you comment on it.

You’re in a daydream the rest of the day because of that fact.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you on your late study nights in the library closer to finals. You two always sit at one of the tables hidden by the giant bookshelves.

It was nice and cozy. Quiet and roomy.

It was also a great place to makeout.

Every time you got a set of flashcards memorized, Miguel would pull you in his lap and devour you with kisses. It was a great motivation and a welcomed distraction.

It always ended up getting a little too heated and Miguel would have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes you would feel so delirious that you wanted him to stay so you could crawl under the table and take care of his problems for him.

That was definitely the multiple late nights talking.

GymRat!Miguel who is super bummed out by the time Christmas break starts because you two can’t find a proper time to meet.

You have to visit several other family member’s houses and his biological dad wants his family to join him and his family at some ski resort before the week of Christmas.

George O’Hara was not turning down a free vacation.

You told him to cheer up and enjoy the snow and jacuzzis. Miguel couldn’t help but to think that the jacuzzi would be better with you on top of him in it.

And when Gabriel annoys him, he didn’t mind all that much because that was his baby brother whom he loves dearly. It was when Kron, his step-brother, would run his mouth that Miguel would seriously get annoyed.

He’s been competing with Miguel ever since he caught on to the fact that his dad had a secret love child.

Right now though, he was pissing Miguel off.

First, it was fighting Miguel over a snowboard. Then, it was taking the last elk burger and not even finishing it. Next, trying to knock him off balance right as he got off of the ski lift.

It was as if he was 8 and not 20.

His final straw was when he was being a dick towards Gabriel. All Gabriel was trying to do was bring them together and Kron cursed at him.

Even Miguel doesn’t tell Gabriel to fuck off.

“What is up with you? Don’t cuss at him. He didn’t do anything to you,” Miguel unlocks himself from his snowboard, ready to leave.

“It’s ok, Migs,” Gabriel held his hand out, knowing how this could end.

“No it’s not. He’s been nothing but a dickhead to you, to us, this entire trip. I’m sick of it. Go be annoying somewhere else, Kron.”

“Dad,” Miguel shouts out. Both George and Tyler looked over at him in concern. Miguel didn’t feel like directing himself towards a specific person. “I’m going to the room, I’ll be back down for dinner.”

Tyler wanted to run after him. George was eyeing Tyler for even reacting to Miguel’s cries. Nancy and Conchata just stood in confusion.

“He, uh, he probably just needs a breather. Maybe he’ll talk to his girlfriend!” Gabriel said trying to lighten the mood.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? I didn’t hear about any girlfriend,” Tyler says, saddened that he was being left out.

“Shit,” Gabriel mumbled to himself.

“You don’t live in our home, Tyler. Of course you don’t know,” George says, a bit peeved.

“What George means to say is that it’s all new. Fresh! Even I haven’t met the girl,” Conchata slides in matter of factly.

“Tyler should know her, being that she was the one who emailed him with our son’s case,” George grumbled out.

Tyler turned to Gabriel, “Jessica?”

“Uh, no.”

Tyler then says your name with a fondness. As if he knew you like an old friend. “She was quite compelling with her words!”

“So the two of you know of her and I still don’t even know what she looks like. I never thought this day would come,” Conchata held her gloved hand over her forehead like she was about to faint.

“Why don’t we host a small dinner next year? We can get to know her that way,” Nancy chimes in.

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Nonsense, Gabriel. If this girl was willing to do something so brave for Miguel we have to meet her,” Tyler grips Gabriel’s shoulder tight. A grip that could rival his brother’s.

“That’s a great idea, Tyler! Nice co-parenting move!” Conchata holds her fist out for him to bump. He does it proudly and they walk towards one of the cabins while Nancy follows behind, discussing dinner ideas.

George only scoffs and stomps off to his room mirroring Miguel’s mannerisms.

Gabriel was screwed once Miguel finds out.

GymRat!Miguel who waits until Christmas night in his bedroom to open the gift you sent to him. He smiles at your cute message and unfolds the paper to so much. It’s a Spider-man lego mask, a customized hoodie with a doodle of you and him, two picture frames with the two of you from his birthday dinner and the Halloween party, and some polaroids that you warned him to look at by himself later.

His breath shuttered as he took him in. They were all of you in your dorm room. They started off innocent. You were smiling, laughing, staring at the camera. Then they got a little more explicit.

You had on a tank top with no bra. Your cleavage was on display. Some showed your entire body on the bed. Some showed your torso and hips, curvy and full.

Miguel felt faint.

His final straw was the last picture in the stack. It was a picture of you from behind, “Merry Christmas XX” written in cursive across the top. You had on briefs but your ass was still readable, peaking out from the bottom. There was an arch in your back as you looked over your shoulder seductively. What a tease.

You were going to send him to an early grave. And who took these pictures?

All Miguel remembers was shuddering, hips lifting off the bed as he held one of pictures high. He had to bite his shirt as to not startle the entire house.

After he cleans up, he spreads the pictures across his bare chest and clicks a photo with a lazy yet satisfied smile.

You respond back with voice memos, so happy that he loved his gift. You also send some sounding a bit needy.

Miguel calls you and talks with you all night.

This Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: This one was really fun to write!! I dove deep into my lover girl brain for this. Like full on immersing myself into the reader’s position. I hope you enjoyed! 🩵

As always likes and reblogs are super appreciated. PLEASE COMMENT OMG. 😭 Let me know how you feel or I get nervous 😭😭😭!

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585 notes · View notes

sinswithpleasure · 2 months

Text

To-Do List: Cream & Coffee

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Thank @friskyriskywhisky for this fic. Without him, I'd never write Minju.

Kinks: Public Sex, Magical Mischief, Blasphemy (really, this fic is that).

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Sometimes, you forget Minju is an angel.

She’s an angel, of course, but she’s also an angel, in every sense of the word. As in, “be not afraid” angel, as in miracles type, heaven-born angel. She embodies purity, compassion, kindness, and all that is holy and good with… well, almost every action she takes.

Of course, you’d questioned it before: “Almost? Aren’t angels perfect?” It’s a valid question, and Minju corrects you every time you mention it: “Not perfect—blameless. Also, the rules have relaxed a bit! That’s why I’m always around you humans!”

If your next question is about what exactly Minju isn’t good and holy about, she’s had an answer for that too, with a wink and a smile: “Everyone says I’m mischievous, so it’ll only be a while before you’ll find out~.”

And find out you have—thoroughly, even. Minju seems to orbit around you a lot, and you’ve been roped into her schemes one too many times, much of which bring far too much risk for you. However, there’s no denying the satisfaction those schemes bring though—Minju makes sure you benefit too, whenever she decides to pull one of her tricks. Win-win scenarios are her bread and butter, she says, with a little swish of her hand and soft glow from her eyes, because “a few heavenly miracles don’t hurt anyone”. Far too many times she’s used it to get both you and her out of trouble, and you swear she’s way too mischievous and curious for anyone’s own good. It’s this mischief of hers that leads you to constantly remind yourself that she’s celestial, even if she doesn’t carry herself like one.

As you sip your coffee, Minju’s fork clatters against her plate, and she leans back with her signature smirk. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s acting up again.

“Yah, Minsik.” Minju calls for you. “I—”

“No, whatever it is, no.” You’re quick to shut her down. “I’m not about to do whatever it is you’ve thought up.”

“I didn’t even say what it was!” Minju’s pouting now, arms crossed over her letterman jacket, looking every bit like a petulant child. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s because every scheme you put me up to involves us doing something that could get us jailed.”

“But I always get us out, don’t I?” Minju sulks, but it morphs into a grin quickly after. “And you can’t lie to me about how good I always make you feel when I make you try anything I think up.”

The memories instantly come flowing back—Minju on your bed, Minju on her knees, Minju on your lap, Minju bent over a desk, Minju against the wall. In some of these memories, Minju is naked, and in the others, she’s clothed in varying degrees. With these thoughts in your head, your body betrays your mind—your cock begins to harden in your pants, and you shift your legs to attempt to hide your bulge, even if Minju doesn’t have it in line of sight.

“Yeah, I can’t, but what happened to ‘just having a normal afternoon drinking coffee and eating cakes’, Minju? We can’t even have that anymore?”

“Oh, shut up, you.” Minju’s mischievous grin only grows bigger. “You can’t lie to me, you’re getting horny just remembering what we’ve done.”

“No I’m not.” You lean back in your chair, coffee in hand, taking a sip through the straw. Even if the effort is futile, you’d do it anyway just to spite Minju.

Minju rises from her chair, and she slowly sashays around the table. You take advantage of this moment to ogle her thighs in her jeans—her body is nothing but perfect. She bends down right in front of you, her grin now stretching from ear to ear as she notes your reactions.

“Liar. You know I can tell when humans lie.”

Minju leans in close to whisper her proposition.

“I think we should have some fun, Minsik.”

You sigh in resignation, then take the bait. “What kind of fun, Minju?”

“Well…” The angel stands back up and winks. “I’ve never had sex in a cafe before.”

With a wave of her wrist, white light glows from her eyes, and the world around you ripples, as if it were water. You take a moment to enjoy the visual effects on the world around you. In that time, Minju closes the distance—she straddles you and plants herself on your lap, your bulge pressing right against her body.

“Liar.” Minju repeats, smirking. “You said you weren’t horny.” She crosses her arms as she grabs the hem of her white tee, and you watch in barely restrained lust as the angel on your lap peels her shirt off her. As the cloth rises above her head, her petite, yet perfect breasts greet your eyes as she drops her shirt on the table behind her. Once again, no bra—the angel despises underwear, having “not needed any of it for the entire time I’ve been an angel”, something which you definitely have no complaints about. Minju rests her arms over your shoulder, and she grinds down on your bulge as she softly groans in pleasure. You join her in vocalizing your pleasure, all pretenses dropped, and you hold the angel steady by her hips as you grind into her too.

“It’s great to be an angel.” Minju sighs softly and bites her lip down on a particularly hard grind. “I can just cloak anytime and enjoy having sex, and no one would know.”

“You’re so corrupted, Minju.” You shift your hands up to caress the angel’s body, and she whines in pleasure when you cup one of her breasts in your palm, soft kneads and squeezes of her flesh drawing more sounds of pleasure from her. The angel only laughs, and she denies it with a wave of her wrist. “Heh, no I’m not. I just do what I enjoy doing, and no one’s going to stop me. Not the old man next to us with his newspaper, not the lady to your left working on her financial reports, not the baristas behind me, and most of all,” Minju’s pointer finger pushes against your chest as she taps you three times, “Definitely not you.”

The angel is right—you’re not stopping her at all. Even as the old man to your right shakes his paper to get a better grip on it, even as the businesswoman to your left takes a glance in your direction, you’re not protesting at all when Minju’s hand trails down to undo your pants and zipper. You’re still fondling Minju’s bare breasts, and the angel leans in to push her lips against yours. No one can see you—the angel’s magic ensures that. She only lets the people see what she wants them to see, and right now, she wants them to see nothing at all.

“Mm, so hard for me, that’s good.” Minju has her hand over your bulge now, having shifted down to your lap, and she only gives you a cursory few rubs before she withdraws her hand, to your disappointment. That doesn’t last long though—the angel begins to undo your pants, and she pulls your hard, twitching shaft out from underneath your zipper. She wraps her hand around it, soft slow strokes along your length drawing soft groans from your lips, groans that she silences with a hot kiss. Her tongue meets yours in the middle, and you pull her tighter against you, eager to feel her body against yours. However, Minju pulls herself back now, her weight leaving your lap as she gets off you.

“Minju—”

“Shhh…” The angel giggles at the look of desperate need all over your face. “Give me just a second~.”

It happens in an instant—Minju is on your left one moment, and then in a blink of an eye, she’s on your right. The only difference between both of them is this: the Minju on your left seconds ago had her jeans still on, and the Minju on your right has them off. The angel is naked right next to you, her thighs glistening with her arousal as she straddles you again. It is at this point you notice that you’re naked too, your clothes and hers in a neatly folded pile on her chair.

“This is cheating, Minju.”

“And who’s keeping score, Minsik?” Minju stands over you, her lips softly brushing against yours in a ghost of a kiss. “This little miracle doesn’t hurt anyone, does it? Especially if it gets us closer to having sex.” The angel lifts her legs one by one to fold them up over either of yours, almost as if to kneel right in your lap, her ankles supporting her weight with your help. Her knees are in the air next to both of your thighs. You instinctively grab Minju by the hips and ass while she balances herself, and she grins when she grabs your cock to brush it right against her labia, the moan torn from your lips exactly what she wants to hear.

“Mm, I love this part.” Minju exhales in stutters, the hot breath brushing against your lips. “The part where I drip all over the cock I’m about to fuck.”

And drip all over it she does. Minju coats your cock with a sheen of her slick, her hand helping to spread it all over with soft strokes once more. She takes a glance to see how aroused both you and her are, and the angel only giggles at your dazed expression of lust, pleasure, and anticipation when she looks back up.

“Oh my God, Minju…”

“Hey, not in vain.” The angel jokingly chastises, as she always does. “I’ll smite you.”

“Do your worst,” is your challenge.

“That I will.” Minju lines you up with her hole, and in one stroke, she slams herself down on your cock. You moan out loud as Minju takes you to the hilt instantly. A loud whine of pleasure accompanies your moans as well, before Minju shakily breathes, “Just. Like. That.”

Just like that, she says. Just like that, you’re having sex with Minju, again, on her whim. The angel “smites” you over and over with her hips, engulfing your cock in her velvety, warm, tight cunt with every time she impales herself on your shaft. She takes to sex like a fish to water—you have no idea how, no idea why, and neither do you care or have ever cared. What you do care about right now is how she bounces herself on your cock, every stroke reaching deep into her as she fucks herself down on your length. Neither of you hide your moans as the world carries on around you—the cafe’s patrons are none the wiser about the sexual activities just inches away from them. This knowledge excites both Minju and you— as she fucks herself down on you hard, the almost-crazed joy displayed in her eyes from having such wanton public sex is mirrored in yours as well. Minju is a godsend—figuratively and literally—that has you able to do things you’ve only dreamed of in your wild fantasies, and you’re going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

“You’re hitting me right there every time, Minsik~!” Minju’s G-spot rubs against your shaft with every stroke of hers, and you thrust up in time with her as well. Your loud, vulgar exclamations of pleasure mix with Minju’s own, and the claps of her flesh against yours as well as the wet sounds of her pussy milking your cock only leave you both more and more aroused.

“Oh, fuck, Minju, fuck, you’re so tight, fuck!” The angel’s cunt massages your shaft, as if trying its best to coax your cum out of you as soon as possible. Her pussy is incredibly tight, and the pleasure you derive from it has you close to orgasm already. Minju is no better—she’s softly muttering about how close she is right next to your ear, her pussy drenching your cock and balls in her arousal, walls getting tighter and tighter as she gets close to her peak.

“Fuck, Minsik, make me cum, make me cum together with you, make me cum all over your cock—”

From experience, you know Minju’s a talker, and her words only push you to thrust up into her harder, deeper, faster as you chase your high with her. The girl on your lap fucks herself on your cock in time with your thrusts, and both of you wrap your arms around each other however you can, pulling each other tight against the other as you hit your combined peaks simultaneously.

“Oh, Minju, I—”

“Minsik~!”

Neither of you bother holding back your moans as you orgasm together. Minju’s hips buck against your faltering thrusts, her juices flowing down all over your lap as jets of squirt drench your lower half. Even as your hips stutter, you keep fucking into Minju as well as you can—burst after burst of thick white cum shoots deep into the angel’s tight cunt, and with every thrust, you push your load deeper and deeper into her, prolonging the pleasure both of you enjoy. The carnal pleasure seems to last forever, and both of you hold each other tightly as waves after waves of it wash over your bodies. Both of you make a mess where you sit—Minju’s juices mix with your overflowing load on the chair and the floor beneath you, and the air smells of sex. You hug the angel in your embrace as your highs subside, and she pushes herself off you urgently, though the smile on her face promises she means no offense.

“Don’t get mushy on me, fucker.”

“Shut up.” You help Minju off you, and your cock twitches when you fully exit her—thick drops of cum fall from her freshly fucked hole onto your shaft, and you can’t help but groan when you see it.

“Already wanting a round two, Minsik? We can make it happen.” Minju giggles as she reaches a hand beneath to collect your flowing excess, then raises it to lick it all off. “You always taste so nice.”

“Oh my God, shut up, Minju…” You chuckle to yourself, the corrupted angel joining you as she grabs her clothes. With a wave of her wrist, both you and her are clothed, the mess beneath you cleaned up, and you’re both right back where you started—a normal afternoon drinking coffee and eating cakes.

“This was fun, Minsik.” Minju’s eyes flash with mischief once more. “I wonder where we can do it next…”

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #minju smut #kim minju smut #izone smut

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fizziepopangel · 2 months

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HuskerDust Headcanons (romantic)

Husk says “I love you” first. It’s not a big romantic thing, but to Angel Dust it means the world.

Angel and Husk were both quite affectionate with each other. The two can often be found cuddling in one of their bedrooms. Angel loves being held, but his favorite way for them to cuddle is actually having Husk lay on top of him since he finds the pressure grounding, and he’s found that scratching the cat demon’s back between his wings or scratching behind his ears while he’s tired and comfortable results in purring.

Angel steals Husk's hat every now and again.... Sometimes he steals it solely for the purpose of putting it on Fat Nuggets to take cute pictures of him in it.... While the pictures are adorable, this has resulted in the little pig occasionally taking it upon himself to steal the hell cat's hat, resulting in the man chasing the little creature around the hotel like a madman.

Husk becomes the father figure Fat Nuggets never had and Angel absolutely goes crazy for the relationship between his pet pig and boyfriend.

Although he doesn’t show it often, Husk does sometimes get overwhelmed, causing him to eventually break down in tears. During these episodes, Angel usually holds the grumpy drunk, rubbing his back and humming “Loser Baby” until he’s calmed down enough to talk, or until he’s fallen asleep.

Angel is a sucker for romance. He buys Husk flowers, makes big plans for their anniversary, makes long and mushy posts and posts cutesy pictures on his sinstagram, and goes all out for Husk’s birthday. Husk acts annoyed, but he secretly enjoys the little romantic gestures.

Despite not being the most romantic man, he does randomly grab Angel at random points while they’re together and begin dancing with the man, even humming or singing softly under his breath when Angel points out that there’s no music.

Charlie has so many candid photos of the couple being cute. She’s making a scrapbook for them for their anniversary

After Husk showed him the song, Angel plays “A Sunday Kind of Love" whenever their anniversary lands on a Sunday and makes Husk breakfast in bed as it plays. He calls it their song.

When Angel can, he does drag shows at one of his favorite clubs in downtown Pride. Husk goes to every one of Angel’s drag shows to watch him perform and despite his usual gruff demeanor, he cheers the loudest when his boyfriend is on stage.

After long, rough shoots in Valentino's studio, Angel usually comes back to the hotel exhausted and sore so he sits at the bar, sipping water and listening to Husk grumble about work until he falls asleep at the bar. Husk usually ends up carrying him to bed despite constantly grumbling about being "too old for this shit".

In the event that they both wanted to get married, both of these men would try to make the perfect plan to propose to the other.

In an attempt to be romantic, Husk would begrudgingly ask Alastor to help him make a nice Italian dinner and a cake to hide the ring in. He would be an anxious wreck through the whole dinner as Angel ate as he waited for dessert and the discovery of the ring within the cake.

Angel on the other hand would go the cheesier way of dressing Fat Nuggets up in a little tux and tying a ring around his neck with a bow and having him come up to Husk as the two had dessert with a sign that reads “Will you marry my daddy?”

In true romantic comedy fashion, Angel’s proposal pig would get to Husk right as Angel nearly choked on the ring Husk put into the cake. Of course, they would both say yes.

Despite not being the romantic in their relationship, Husk is a bit of a groom-zilla. It’s not really that he cares about flowers or color schemes or any of it, he’d be happy as long as he’s with the man he loves and their an open bar so he lets Angel handle it all for the most part…. But he does think Angel deserves the best and he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure that man’s day didn’t go absolutely perfectly.

Niffty makes Angel’s wedding dress, and although he will deny it, Husk does cry when he sees Angel in it.

Husk doesn't choose the first song they dance to, but he does request later in the night that the song Frank Sinatra’s “I Could Write a Book" be played so he can ask Angel to dance to that.

Husk recites his vows to Anthony, not Angel Dust.

#fizziepop thoughts #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #all aongs are linked for you to listen #husk hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin hotel angel dust #husker x angel dust #fat nuggets #husk is fat nuggets second dad #frank sinatra #i could write a book #a sunday kind of love #etta james #loser baby #this is one of my favorite ships

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victoria-grimesss · 8 months

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Price Headcanons ~SFW & NSFW~

masterlist ->Paring: Captain John Price x F!Reader ->Warning: fluff, romance, smut down below >:) ->A/N: MDNI! I've had some of these floating around my head and had to write them down.

SFW:

This man needs a vacation, he needs to sit on the beach and drink a little something with an umbrella vacation.

I imagine even if he went on vacation, he would be the "feel free to text me if anything comes up I'm just a flight away" kinda guy. Please someone make him relax.

He's a romantic guy for sure, will kiss you on the hand and bring you flowers without asking.

When you go out to eat he will open the car door, the restaurant door, and pull out the chair for you because the woman he loves will NOT be touching a door. He gives you a wink once he tucks your chair in.

When he's home, especially right after he gets back he loves nothing more than to sit side by side and read your books together, make him a good cup of tea and he's sending heart eyes your way.

His favorite way to sleep is with you right on top of him. Out on the job he sleeps with his gear on, so he's become accustomed to having a weight on his chest when he sleeps, he feels uneasy without it. But when you lay onto of him like that he's out like a light.

He gets nightmares frequently, if you're a light sleeper he apologizes for waking you up but you never complain and for that he cannot repay you. If you're a heavy sleeper and you don't wake up he'll calm his beating heart and find comfort in your scent and soft breaths. Sometimes he wants to talk about it sometimes he doesn't, it depends on the severity and if he wants to plague you with it. At times he just wants to lay with you in his arms, he's safe at home with you, his boys are safe at their homes, everything is okay.

He's built a steady routine over the years, part of that routine is waking up ten minutes before he's supposed to so he can admire you when you sleep and hold you close to his bare chest, he loves these mornings.

He trusts you with his life, and with that he'll let you trim up his beard, a barber botched it once and Gaz laughed at him, so he said you're the only other person allowed to do it now.

He definitely falls asleep when watching TV and when you try to change it he'll wake up and say he's watching it.

One time you washed his hat without telling him and he panicked like when you lose your wallet. You had to pre-soak his hat twice to get it semi-normal.

I imagine him as a good cook but a shit baker. He gets frustrated when he tried to follow a cake recipe for your birthday and can't find the recipe under the person's life story. He went to the store and bought one then wrote your name on it.

He loves it when he can show off how strong he is, sometimes you'll pretend you can't open a jar just so he can crack his knuckles and "show you how its done".

He's over the moon if you ask him to show you how to fish, even more elated if you offer it as a date idea.

He loves to sit at the counter and listen to you talk about your day. He's a sucker about your voice and could listen to you talk about literally anything.

He calls you on his way back to base and talks to you on the drive home, makes the drive go faster.

He starts ring shopping 2 months after you two started dating, he knew you were the one.

He almost threw up when he proposed, he was so fucking nervous but the night went perfectly.

Definitely carried you through the door of your shared place when you got married, he's old fashioned like that.

His dad jokes are out of this world awful, but you laugh at them even if it hurts, because you love him.

Loves to have the team over to watch sport matches, when you were house shopping he always referenced about having them over when the two of you would view the living room.

When the two of you are out he puts a hand on the small of you back to guide you through crowds.

NSFW:

His stamina is impressive, he's an older guy but he can go for rounds and those rounds are heavy and sweaty.

Alot of things you do turn him on, kiss him on the spot where his neck meets his head, touch his knee and move you hand slowly up, tell him how much you missed him, tell him he looks good in that shirt, wear that shirt, really anything you do turns the man on.

John Price loves to love you through and through this man is a giver.

He will kiss you from ankle all the way up, muttering about how good you looked today and how much he was thinking about getting you out of these clothes.

Not possessive but more protective. Your relationship is built on mutual respect for one another, although there is a trend between the times when you get a little more attention from other guys and when he absolutely fucks your brains out. He denies it the next morning.

He uses his voice to his advantage. He purrs in your ear hours before he undresses you, light light touches and honeyed words butter you up to the point you're begging for him to take your clothes off. "You need me this bad love? Desperate girl." He wears a devilish smile.

Certified pussy eating master and I stand by that. That man can go forever between your thighs, his eyes roll to the back of his head when he first licks you, you'll have to pry him away beard soaked with evidence of his skills.

Good with his hands too, he angles then just the right way to find your G-spot, all while saying the dirtiest things just so he can feel you clench around his fingers. "You like that, fuck look at you dripping down my hand."

He loves when you grip his arms when he drives himself into you, you leave nail marks and he gets off on it. That you're feeling so good from what he's doing to you that you have to hold on that tight.

Favorite positions would be missionary, cowgirl, or anything where he can look you in the eyes so he can see your reaction when he slides it in so agonizingly slow.

Loves it when you ride him, front facing so he can see you cum. He makes you wear his hat for sure. And when it dips too low in front of your eyes he'll stop all movement just to fix it. "There's my pretty girl." He grinds into you to start again.

You guys fucked in his car once and he loved it, couldn't do it again though. His back hurt too much the next day.

Guilty pleasure is hotel sex. The both of you get a nice big room at a fancy hotel, have sex in clean white sheets making a mess of the newly made bed, he fucks you in the bed, the shower, the desk, over the dresser, and against the wall, afterwards you two order all you can eat room service.

He loves getting blowjobs when he smokes, something about the combination of the two make his head dizzy in a wonderful way.

Heavy on safe-words and making sure you feel the best you can when you two have sex, always checking in on you but in the most seductive ways as to not lose the mood.

Price loves to praise you, before during and after he's telling you how good you're doing and how beautiful you look taking him so well.

Most of the time he asks you where he should cum, he just likes hearing you say it, it gets him off harder.

Aftercare!! John is big on it, he'll take you to the bathroom and you'll have a bath together or shower, he'll give you extra time when he leaves so he can change the bedding and put on a sweet movie.

If your muscles ache he'll take a body oil or lotion and gets those knots out with those expert hands, he prefers it when you're naked for these massage sessions, easier to get all your sore spots he says.

More than half the time this result in another session and neither of you are complaining.

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peepaw for the win!!!

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noroi1000 · 10 months

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Their Neighbor (18+)

Summary: You caught your husband cheating. You had it on tape. You went for comfort to your younger friends, students - Satoru and Suguru.And they've always been in love with you...When they knew your relationship was ruined, they saw an opportunity for them.They offered you to make a sex tape for the three of you, and also to prove that you can have fun too.

Dom Gojo x Sub Reader x Dom Geto

Warnings: Smut (sex tape, oral sex, anal sex, threesome, double penetration), cheating, mention of divorce, Strong words

@getosbigballsack

"What do you think is going on there?"

The dark-haired man looked at the white-haired man who was standing by the window, looking at the lights on in your apartment on the other side of the square.

"Probably her husband started arguing again. I wish this would end already. She'll cry for him again..."

You lived in an apartment building. Where in the middle was a small square with three entrances.

They lived on one side. You and your husband lived across the street.

These were expensive apartments.

Well, you were married to a famous lawyer. He hasn't lost a case in court in several years. It was very bad at first. But over the years, he made it. He started getting rich, that's why you live in an apartment. On the same floor as them.

They are younger. students. However, the Gojo family gave them an apartment so they wouldn't have to live in a dorm or some other bad apartment.

That's why they have a suite.

When they just moved in there, they met your husband. Someone not very nice.

He was busy with work. They also heard rumors that he previously had trust issues with clients because he was a terrible womanizer.

However, he later married to avoid bad talk about him.

You were the housewife. He was working and told you to be at home.

You spent your days peacefully. That's why when you found out that someone new moved in there, you didn't want to be rude.

And you hoped you'd meet them someday.

Once, when you were in the square, you met them. Two young men who have moved in here and are students. A little younger than you. You couldn't forget their eyes when they looked at you. so nice. You thought young people like them would be mean and you wouldn't care.

However, they approached you and started talking to you. Why? Because they once saw you through the window walking beside your husband. Him, still with the phone in his hand. You, you walked beside him in silence. Even if there was love between you, perhaps there is less of it once.

It was just what they thought it was. And they were very observant.

People could believe it or not, but they felt something that you were a very interesting person. You were nice and sweet. You smiled gracefully at them as they offered to carry your groceries from the car to your house.

For your help, you gave them a fruitcake that you baked. You told them you didn't want to throw it away, and your husband said he wouldn't eat the cake because he's allergic to certain fruits. Even though he didn't even know what was there.

That's why you fed your new neighbors. Gojo was very pleased with your baking skills. And you said that since you're married to your husband, you don't have much to do.

You promised them you'd bake them cakes when you had time.

At least they appreciated your work.

You've become more like friends since then.

You spent time together when you all had nothing to do.

Sometimes you visited them, sometimes they visited you. It was connected by mutual emotions. Because you liked each other.

You felt relieved when you spent time with them. Because your husband started ignoring you more and more.

Both they and you noticed that he was coming home from work later and later. Plus, he used to piss you off sometimes. Which just showed he wasn't interested in you anymore.

You came to them once for comfort. Without explicitly showing that you need comfort. You took your husband's favorite cake you had baked and left the house. Just so you don't go to them empty-handed .

And they took you home.

Well, their house wasn't what you expected.

You expected scattered socks and underwear. A bit of a mess.

But they had a nice house.

Compared to your husband's office in yours. There was begging all the time. He made you clean up there, and when you cleaned it up, your husband yelled at you for throwing away some very important papers.

And then he went to "work" because you made him start all over again. And apparently he had a lot more peace in his office than he did at home with you.

According to Gojo, who has passed by his office more than once, he does not need peace in his office. He needs his secretary who is always by his side. During breaks at work, they go out for lunch together, they act like a couple.

Your heart was almost broken when you heard that.

You didn't know why Satoru would lie. He is very observant. Besides, they study near his office. That's why they go there.

You've found out the hard way that your husband has a slutty secretary dressed more like a prostitute than a secretary in a law firm.

You gave your neighbors a lift because you had to go to your husband's. Because he forgot his briefcase from home. So you took them along, by the way, since you were on your way.

And when you got in the car after taking his things, you started to get nervous behind the wheel. When you drove off to park near the school, instead of getting out, they started worrying about you.

They asked what happened to you. And when you told them that they were right that your husband might be cheating on you, they found a chance to win your heart.

Because you were their lovely neighbor. So nice and hurt by her husband every time.

They were already hopelessly in love with you. That's why there was this reaction.

They said that they thought you were much prettier than that secretary.

They made you blush, but their cute and comforting smiles stole your heart.

Young, flirty men are your neighbors.

They are the ones who gave you courage.

When you went to your friend's birthday one day, he installed cameras in the house. To be sure that nothing will happen.

Instead of having fun with your friend all evening perfectly, you just had a good time. You were afraid of catching your husband cheating.

You were trying to have fun. And even after you drank some wine, you texted Satoru and Suguru.

They knew you went to a birthday party. And after you sent them heart stickers, they knew you had something to drink.

Alcohol gives courage. But it also causes stupid behavior.

When you came home, a little drunk from what you did with your friend, you found your husband in bed.

Lucky you didn't take your car to go to your friend's. You came by taxi.

It wasn't that late, but it was already dark.

Out of habit, you looked at the windows of your neighbors apartment.

As always, they were still awake.

You didn't go over to your husband to say hello.

You just saw him lying under the covers and snoring softly.

Alcohol makes you brave, but it also causes stupid behavior...

These cameras were to be installed for at least a few weeks. And then you would review the recordings.

However, the few glasses of wine you drank made you check the recordings from tonight on your laptop.

You've been scrolling through footage from the kitchen, the bathroom, and the madhouse. Nothing new. Just your husband who lies lazily and doesn't have the strength to even get up from the couch to open the door.

But when you saw who came to him in your absence, you had no doubts...

He's cheating on you!

You turned on the bedroom video to see your husband fucking his secretary. In your house. In your bed!

Without wasting time watching the abomination, you took the icy water in the jug and poured it over your sleeping husband, who jumped out of bed as he felt the cold against his skin.

And here is another proof of treason.

He slept naked. There was a condom next to the bed, and there were scratches from his fingernails on his arms.

Can he ever please a woman?

He started screaming and so did you.

You knew the neighbors around would hear anything.

Meanwhile, your friends saw your figure behind the curtain as they looked and the window.

A curtain on which there was a light shadow.

"What do you think is going on there?"

The dark-haired man looked at the white-haired man who was standing by the window, looking at the lights on in your apartment on the other side of the square.

"Probably her husband started arguing again. I wish this would end already. She'll cry for him again..."

"It's not like I don't like being able to comfort her and spend time with her... But I'm sick of this asshole doing this to her. She probably found out he was cheating on her."

Suddenly they saw you open the window and throw his work laptop onto the sidewalk.

Then he started yelling at you.

And when Geto saw how he raised his hand on you, he left the house, running to the opposite entrance to the building.

He started ringing the doorbell quickly and firmly.

Until after a minute, your husband opened it, in a robe.

His skin was wet as he stared at the taller, younger boy.

"We apologize for the noise at night. We need to sort things out..." your husband said.

"Where is (y/n)?" he asked, looking around for him.

"Suguru-kun?"

Your husband turned to glare at you.

Well, before he told you to leave the house, you said you were leaving.

And now you were taking your things that you will need.

Your husband didn't hit you. You hit him. You kicked him in the crotch with all your might. And when he took his laptop to show you the "section of the law" about recording without consent, you threw his laptop out the window, telling him how illegal it is by law to cheat on your spouse.

If you're going to get a divorce, you have the perfect reasons.

And you have even more to get him to let go, and no one took his side during the trial. All the things he said when his mistress was with him? He bribed other lawyers to misdefend their clients! That's what he's famous for!

Plus you have a video of him in your bed with his lover! Who will go to such a lawyer? A lawyer who cheats on his wife?

He divorces because of infidelity! And now he's betraying himself!

You pushed your husband out of the doorway to walk out with your bag in hand.

You'll be back for the rest of your stuff soon.

"Are you okay?" the dark haired man in the bun asked you as he placed his hand on your back, shielding you from your husband's gaze as he stopped behind you.

"Yeah." you replied, breathing to calm yourself down.

As you went up the stairs he took your bag, carrying it for you.

"What happened?"

"He was cheating on me... Just like that..." you said, doing your best to keep your emotions from exploding.

"I'm sorry I asked..."

"That's fine. You were right."

"Where are you going now?"

"I was planning to go to my friend's for the night. I'll think of something else in the morning."

"Come to us."

You stopped and turned to look at him.

"We have quite a lot of space. Therefore, it will not be a problem for you to stay with us. And we also have no problem for you to stay longer."

"Suguru-kun..."

"Come on... We're friends. Besides, your husband will be able to see that you're doing well without him."

His hand pushed your back lightly in encouragement.

You rubbed your eyes because you thought salt water was already gathering there.

"Fine..." You replied, walking right next to him as he led you down the familiar road to their apartment.

"The door is already wide open for you. Entrance always for you."

As you were walking up the stairs, you saw Satoru at the door when it was open.

He waved his hand towards the entrance.

You smiled slightly, rubbing your eyes again.

White-haired hands appeared on your shoulders as you walked inside.

"You can always rely on us. We are at your disposal." he said happily.

They always helped you... And you gave them cake for it...

They were always there for you when you needed them...

That's why you wanted to cry.

Because of what your husband did to you...

What you've been through right now...

Before your neighbors are so sweet and help you...

Suddenly tears appeared on your cheeks and they started to panic.

"He betrayed me... What should I do now? I left the house... I'm going to get a divorce... I want him to have it worse than me... But I'll have to suffer…”

"(y/n), it's not your fault he's a complete asshole. You are cute and kind. The fact that he did it just shows what a son of a bitch he is. He had the best wife in the world, and he did it anyway. We would never do that to you." Satoru's fingers brushed your cheeks before blushing a little, you clung to his chest, snuggling against him.

He bent down to pick you up and took you to the couch.

You sat sideways on his lap, cuddling up to him.

Your calves were placed on Suguru's thighs as he sat down next to his friend.

"We'll help you plan what to do next. For him to regret. Did you catch him?" Suguru asked.

"Cameras in house..." you moaned softly as your face was buried in white man's chest.

"Do you have cameras oh! A sex tape about cheating..." the white-haired man muttered. "Do you have it? We can use it somehow."

You pointed to the bag with your things.

Geto reached over to pull out your laptop. And after a very short time of searching, he turned on the video that was there.

You turned away because you didn't want to see it.

"Fake orgasm." White Hair said at one point as he saw your husband's secretary squirm beneath him.

You might have guessed some strange comments...

Suguru sat silently and watched.

"Oh fuck, he has a bush... Was he even able to please you? Our dicks are bigger!" He said rubbing your back. "He doesn't know what a shaver is? Holy shit, such hair even on the balls is probably like nettles..."

You wanted to laugh at his comment.

"I haven't been in bed with him in two months." you said as your cheek rested against his shoulder.

"Admit it, all sex with him is fake orgasms."

"...Actually, most of the time..." You replied.

Geto laughed.

"Eeewww, man no... Tie it at least... Bleh... Who sane doesn't tie condoms when they take them off?! I can't look at this... He can't do anything before sex, during sex and after sex..."

"And now he'll probably go to sleep." The dark-haired man chuckled.

They both looked at the video.

Your husband suddenly lay down on the bed under the covers and fell asleep.

"He did." he laughed.

"Your husband is pussy..."

You looked at Satoru's mouth as he spoke.

Has he always had a mouth like that? So tempting?

You looked away not to think about it.

"We may share this to damage his reputation at work."

You looked at the dark haired man with your laptop on your lap.

You will have no consequences.

There are a lot of porn videos on the internet.

Revenge on your husband?

Yeah.

"Do it..." you said calmly.

Your eyes are slightly red from the tears you shed earlier.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah."

Without much thought, the dark-haired man uploaded the video to a website and shared it.

Soon this video will also reach your husband. Many people in the city will recognize him.

That your husband will be embarrassed is a little comforting.

However, that didn't change anything in your shattered heart.

You loved your husband. Even though it was less and less as the weeks went by, you still tried to love him.

And now you've lost your husband. You're going to get a divorce for sure, and you have no one to comfort you except them.

However, you are very happy to have them. Because they as your friends and your neighbors knew a lot about you. And they were able to take care of your well-being.

Your legs were on one of Suguru's thighs as he closed the laptop and put it back in your bag.

"How long ago did you have good sex?" Gojo asked suddenly.

You looked at him blushing.

"Because you know... Sex will give you some relief."

"Satoru-kun...?"

"It's not like I'm suggesting you start fuck guys you like."

"What Satoru means is that good sex will de-stress you. But if you do it with just anyone, you'll ruin your reputation, and your husband will be in a winning position when he finds out."

With Suguru's explanation, it makes a little more sense now...

"We don't want him to feel good about you being outraged that he had sex. So why don't you do the same?"

You looked questioningly at Suguru.

They acted like they were reading each other's minds, and they both meant the same thing.

"You can make a sex tape, and in order not to give your husband the satisfaction of your unpleasantness in life, you can show him how good you felt at the time."

Her eyes widened and you blushed.

"...I don't know if that's a good idea... Besides... I'm not going to find a single guy who's going to make a sex tape for me..."

"Maybe there won't be one. But there are already two." Satoru pointed at both of them with his thumbs.

You suddenly got off his lap.

"Hold on... Are you serious? Or just joking?" You raised your hands almost defensively.

Defense against their prank? Or defense against their true words?

"Why should we be joking?" Geto muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Y-You..."

"If you want to make a sex tape, we are at your disposal."

You looked at the white haired boy's slight smile.

They're not joking...

Are they really asking you to make a sex tape with them?

Do they like you at all?

Since your husband preferred his secretary, maybe that's the problem with you?

"No rush. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. However, remember us if you ever need a break from it all."

"Suguru is right. You don't have to agree, but if you change your mind, we'll be waiting for you. We've been waiting since we first met."

You widened your eyes as he said that.

They've been waiting for you since you first met?

Does it mean what you think?

Have they fallen in love with you?

Or maybe they just want to fuck you?

No... If that's all they wanted, they'd have tried to do it from the start... It's something else... They're always there when you need them. They do everything for you...

Even now they offer you something to forget what happened.

And later so you can show your husband that you had even more fun than you did with him.

"Are you really serious?"

"Yeah."

"...I want to do it..."

You said, convincing yourself to be firm with your words.

They told you that you'd need lube if you really wanted to have fun with them.

Even though you were already wet from their foreplay, they convinced you that you would need more.

You were lying on the bed as Suguru's fingers disappeared inside you and he applied lubricant all over your pussy.

Satoru was standing next to him. Hand on his cock under his boxers while he held the camera in the other hand to zoom in on his friend's work on your pussy.

You moaned as you watched them do whatever they wanted to your body.

At first, they had to convince you that you turned them on. Because you're older and have a husband. And they are students. So you thought they might prefer college girls.

But they started taking your clothes off, kissing you and touching you. To rub against you.

Squeeze your soft breasts and buttocks.

Slightly rocking your hips and their penises underneath your pants rubbing against your body in an erotic way.

You blushed when you saw them shirtless. So muscular... It was really sexy...

"Did you set up the camera correctly?" The dark haired man asked as he looked at the white haired man's smile.

"And what do you think?" he asked as his hand tightened slightly at his length.

The dark-haired man looked at him silently with a small smile, and then he took one of the closed condoms and slowly tore the foil, wrapping it around his thick shaft.

You were staring at the erotic scene in front of you.

Are you really going to fuck your neighbors?

You're their haunted neighbor... Should you?

You have a husband...

Fuck your husband! You hate him! And they want to do it with you! If they didn't want to, they wouldn't be so horny... Right?

You want to do it with them... You like them so much... And if they say they've been waiting for you... For now...

Suddenly you felt a movement on your finger. And you watched as Satoru's fingers take your wedding ring off his finger.

"You don't need that." He chuckled as he tossed the gold ring over his shoulder onto the floor.

It fell somewhere in the room and you doubt you'll find it soon.

He walked over to the camera stand he was holding and mounted it there, perfectly aimed at you.

You looked at the lens, seeing a red light that indicates that the camera is recording.

Suguru spread your thighs tighter as he massaged the length with his wet hand, adjusting the condom a bit so it wouldn't fall off for sure.

You felt the bed sag beside you and looked at White Hair's thigh next to your head as he sat up.

Smiling, he lifted your arms, placing your head on his thigh.

And your hand reached out to start massaging the smooth skin on his shaft.

As you focused on White Hair's hand on your chest, you felt Suguru nudge your entrance. And you let out a calming exhale to let your body relax.

What was about to happen is just beginning...

His fingers guided the tip into your pussy mouth, feeling the tight warmth around it.

He hummed as he thrust deeper into you.

Now you understand why he gave you lube... Even though you were so wet, you could have guessed that they would be afraid that you couldn't make it.

Because even without comparing their dicks, you understand their difference. Satoru is longer and Suguru is wider... But they're both big... Satoru is wide enough anyway. And Suguru is so long.

Even though their bodies don't look like their sizes are off scale. They are just big men.

And from the beginning they exuded the energy of a big dick...

And now you will feel their big cocks on your body...

You arched your back as you felt his hips touch yours.

After a while, his hips began to move, and you felt him slide on the wetness inside.

And the tip of Satoru appeared at your mouth as he encouraged you to part your lips for him.

Once you realized that with Suguru's thrusts you would need to silence his moans, you opened your mouth for him, listening to him purr from the warmth of your tongue.

The tip and piece of his cock in your mouth, sending pleasant vibrations to his veined skin from the moans you pour from your throat.

And all because the wide cock of one of your neighbors is getting stuck in your pussy.

You were as tight as he thought...

"You should try that pussy later too, Satoru... So tight and willing..." He moaned to his friend, while Satoru enjoyed your warm lips.

He pressed himself closer to you, staying in place for a moment. And your legs trembled from feeling too full.

Everything is clearly visible on the camera.

A dick disappearing inside you, a dick in your mouth.

Their hands on your body.

Oh yeah, it's gonna be a great sex tape for them.

Perfect shots so they can watch it later.

As Gojo entered your mouth more, Geto's hips sped up, hitting your body harder.

The saliva in your mouth spilled onto your cheek as he kept his hand on your head, moving you along his length. His fingers collected your saliva from your cheek.

They smiled at each other before Gojo looked at the camera, sending the same smile as he held it to your lips.

As his friend's thrusts grew stronger, he pulled the tip out of your mouth before you could bite him.

Your jaw clenched as you suppressed moans by closing your mouth.

They laughed when they saw your face.

Your hands gripped Satoru's body as you sought some support to hold on to.

"You're sweet..." the white-haired man muttered. He grabbed your hands, holding you as you needed.

Who would have thought that one dick could make you such a mess...

They were curious how you would take two dicks.

The way his cock was wide was indescribable... You felt pressure on your G-spot as he moved. He stretched you so that his shaft pressed into your most sensitive places.

Satoru's hand reached between your legs, his fingers dancing over your clit.

And the white haired man's fingers let go as he saw his friend's frown as you trembled beneath him, clenching on him as orgasm washed over your body.

He left your walls looking at the mess your pussy has become.

"It's the first time you had an orgasm like this?" he asked with a small smile.

Your body reacted just like that.

Your husband probably couldn't please you so much.

"You promised me her pussy. Then give it to me." The white-haired man chuckled as he released your hands and Suguru lifted your body to turn you around.

The next time you opened your slightly watery eyes, you were lying on Satoru's chest.

As his tip insistently rubs against your entrance.

"I will do it raw. Suguru, take off the condom. Let's go on her raw."

They both laughed, and the dark haired man tugged on the rubber on his penis to take it off.

While he was at it, Satoru thrust into you, his tip kissing your deepest parts.

"The feeling without the condom is so much better..." he murmured as he felt your walls tighten around him. "Suguru... Let's do this..."

You heard a bottle and splashing. And then a big drop of something cold on your ass.

Two fingers stretching you. A little discomfort neutralized by the pleasant feeling of the cock inside you.

And the next moment, as you lay on his chest, you felt something much wider stretching your ass.

And its length slowly and gently pushes into your prepared ass.

Your body still and trembling when you couldn't move. Tears streaming from your eyes as you felt excessive feelings in your lower body.

Satoru's hands stroke your back reassuringly as you swing your hips out for them to give them more access.

For your and their pleasure.

They show you that they are so much better than your husband. In everything that can be.

"Our sex tape could be a lot longer than that, right? Baby? Let's have a nice fun~."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk #geto suguru #gojo #jjk x reader #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto smut #suguru geto

1K notes · View notes

kazvha · 2 months

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WHAT THE GENSHIN BOYS SMELL LIKE

Including: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Freminet, Gaming, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli

Notes: These are just personal headcanons, don't take these too seriously🥴 Enjoy!!💛

ALBEDO

• I think he smells like nothing most of the time

• You only feel cold air when you stand next to him because he's in Dragonspine a lot

• Subtle notes of charcoal which he uses as an art tool or of strong chemicals cling onto him on some days

ALHAITHAM

• I also don't think he smells like anything on most days, maybe only like the fresh clothes he's wearing

• Though he has a faint scent of coconut to him. It could be the shampoo or the skin care products he's using, but it's mostly because of his body lotion

AYATO

• His hair always smells like the shampoo he uses. So sugary and sweet, like vanilla cake or bubblegum

• But for his body and clothes he uses expensive clean and powdery fragrances

• Quite the combo, I must say💀 Strange, just like his taste in food

BAIZHU

• Smells like expensive bar soap. A mix of aloe vera and ginger

• Also smells kinda sour because of the herbs he works with

CYNO

• Smells like pure white musk which smells great

• But it can be quite intense on some days when he decides to go overboard with his sprays

• He's sweating at the end of the day but the smell is subtle

DAINSLEIF

• He smells like the environment he was in. Often it's nature. Every now and then he smells like the rain too

• Also smells kinda dusty, like that basement smell you know? People either love it or hate it.

DILUC

• He smells warm and homely. Notes of cedar, sandalwood, or cinnamon

• But you'd have to stand really close to him to smell anything, his coat kinda dulls the scent

• Of course, he always smells like the vineyard and grapes during the harvest

FREMINET

• Smells fresh like bar soap. It's almost unnoticeable. It has a light scent of baby powder

• His clothes smell like chamomile because of the fabric softener he uses

GAMING

• This fella smells like cocoa butter because he uses it as body lotion

• I can also imagine that he carries an aroma of caramel/burnt sugar

• Bro eats so much dim sum, he often smells like the food he ate

GOROU

• I don't think he has a particular scent

• But his home/room smells like cinnamon, cloves, and oranges. The scent kinda rubs off on him

HEIZOU

• He wears body mists with floral notes. His favorites are maybe roses, lavender, or honeysuckle

• He likes to keep a little lavender sachet in his closet, so his clothes also smell like flowers

ITTO

• Idk, he probably smells like someone who's outside a lot. He has that outside smell, you know what I mean?

• He probably wears a musky fragrance, but it usually mixes with his sweat

KAEYA

• My bro is using all sorts of Arabian oils and fragrances. He has some with the notes of oud, musk, amber, and much more. Kaeya has a whole collection

• He smells divine and he knows it because people compliment him every day

• But like Venti, he drinks a lot, so his scent mixes with the wine odor

KAVEH

• Kaveh likes to wear fruity, tropical fragrances because he's always craving chilled fruits, especially on days that are hotter than usual.

• They also remind him of the days on which he sat in front of his house with his parents and ate watermelons

• Also has an alcohol odor sometimes like his fellas in Mondstadt

KAZUHA

• He uses a fabric softener because he likes his clothes to be extra comfortable. That's why he often smells like fresh laundry

• Because he spends a lot of his free time in nature, he probably also smells like grass or firewood

LYNEY

• Berries. He always smells like berries.

• He won't tell you what his secret is

• You guess every product he uses has the scent of berries. His bodywash, his shampoo, his body lotion, his deodorant, his fabric softener, the candle in his room, his lip balm, etc. Even his toothpaste...

NEUVILLETTE

• This sir smells like the ocean. Like the sea breeze. Like water itself.

• Yeah, he likes expensive-smelling aquatic colognes. Though occasionally he also uses citrusy perfumes

TARTAGLIA

• Something tells me that he either smells like expensive aquatic fragrances

• Or he smells like an old lady mixed with the aroma of nature, grass, firewood, animals, etc.

THOMA

• He probably likes to wear sweet scents like tonka bean and honey

• Or even perfumes with fruity notes like peach or pear

TIGHNARI

• You can't tell me this guy doesn't smell like herbs, plants, flowers and stuff

• Idk, when I think of him I think of eucalyptus

VENTI

• He would smell quite fresh and idk, breezy?

• Like a fresh breath of air in spring if you know what I mean

• But since he's drunk most of the time the overbearing odor of wine sticks to him

WANDERER

• Nahida gifted him a citrus perfume and he has been using it ever since

• He likes bitter smells too, so he bought himself bitter perfumes with bergamot, bitter orange, and grapefruit notes

WRIOTHESLEY

• I think he wears a perfume which has woody, earthy notes. Sometimes he has a fresh minty smell to him too

• When he fights the scents obviously mix with his sweat

• I also think a light scent of motor oil sticks to him

XIAO

• Most of the days he smells literally like nothing, or sweat. It's not overbearing though

• But there are some days on which he smells super sweet, like vanilla, cotton candy, a baked treat or something

• It's either because he ate those things or because he has body sprays with these scents. He won't tell you

ZHONGLI

• If you're standing close to him, you'll smell his pleasant cologne scent

• It could be musky or woody, but he usually wears floral scents like osmanthus

• His scent mixes with the aroma of tea leaves or herbs which he gets from wandering in the market and drinking tea the whole day

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rinniessance · 5 months

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TEENAGE FEVER ༊*·˚ - suguru geto x fem!reader x satoru gojo

SUMMARY. you, satoru and suguru have been taking care of the fushiguro kids and the twins since your teenage days. after your latest mission, you reminisce about the beginnings of your little family. and during an impromptu trip, unspoken feelings finally come to a boil.

꒰ warnings: pure fluff! idiots in love. friends to lovers, mutual pining, family dynamics, non-canon compliant, megumi calls you mommy once ♡ // word count: 11.6k ꒱ ꒰ notes: another repost from my old account .ᐟ.ᐟ just really wanted to have this piece on my new blog <3 ꒱

sometimes you wonder why you agreed to be a part of madness that is the geto/gojo/you in a co-parenting throuple (you internally scream every time you remember how nonchalant satoru was about that description. what? i think that’s kind of adorable. you and suguru did not agree; somehow the name still stuck around). you would think that a pair of strongest sorcerers would be able to handle four first graders yet dozens of notifications that finally came through to your phone prove otherwise. your left eye twitches.

[ groupchat notifications: co-parenting throuple ] ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: girl dinner ! ‘toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: [picture] sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: im sorry i wasn’t there to prevent the disaster sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎: shall i prepare the casket?

messages are stamped two hours ago, and you’re too afraid to open the picture, dozens of different scenarios popping up in your head at the speed of light. when you finally unlock the messages, you think suguru was considerate enough to even suggest a casket because once you’re done with satoru gojo, there will be no body to bury.

you: you fed them cake for dinner ?? toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: it’s sunday! they deserve a little treat! sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: it’s a 12-inch cheesecake you responded: satoru, i know what you want to say, zip it. you’re in so much trouble already.

you: and why is it only you with the girls, where is megumi???? toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ responded: and ‘gumi ate regular dinner like a child-man he is :< you responded: it’s called a man-child satoru… toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\: responded: no, megumi is a child-man because he has a soul of a man trapped in a body of a seven year old sugu ₍ᐢ⑅ᐢ₎ responded: so you’re calling him benjamin button? you responded: that’s why he doesn’t like either of you.

the frustration you felt towards satoru mere two minutes ago dissipates and gives space to something much warmer; the feeling that was tugging at you the whole weekend as you travelled to korea, sent away on a mission (you found yourself missing your little family more than you expected); the feeling that made you treating exorcising curses with utmost care because for the first time in a while, you want to come home safe. with a simple reminder of how lucky you’re to have satoru and suguru protecting the little piece of safe haven you carved out for yourselves; all the anger is gone as if it was never there in the first place.

you’re about to scroll through the earlier messages but flight attendant announces that the passengers are finally clear to get off the plane, so you shove the phone into your bag, grab your carry-on and hurry out. security check is surprisingly fast, and you’re riding a taxi back home in no time. you send a quick message to the group chat that you’re on your way and close your eyes.

quiet hum of the radio, steady movement of the car, and familiar surroundings immediately bring you peace – you’ve been feeling restless during your whole weekend trip, and now that you’re almost back with people you want to be with the most, you cannot help but smile. you’re being lulled to sleep by something pleasant playing on the radio, and your thoughts drift back to the day you found that being teenage parents can come in different forms.

3 years ago

you sigh again as you look at your watch. 4:23pm, satoru was supposed to be here 23 minutes ago. not only that, but he’s been ignoring your calls, not responding to your messages and did not tell anyone where he’s suddenly gone off to. suguru cannot be reached either, you know he has a mission today, so now you’re stranded in the middle of shibuya, your least favorite place to be, alone. you think this is the day you finally stab satoru gojo because he has the absolute nerve to beg you to come to this new dessert cafe, the one that just opened. supposedly, it was so good, you just have to try it - satoru convinced you to join him, knowing that you hate being in overcrowded spaces, only for to him to ghost you.

buzz of your phone brings you out of your thoughts.

[ incoming call: toru /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ ]

“i swear to god, satoru, you better have to save half the planet as an excuse or —”

“where are you?”

“what? what do you mean where am i? in shibuya, where we were supposed to meet almost 30 minutes ago!”

“we’re going back to the school now, come back as soon as you can.”

and then he hung up. you blankly stared at the screen of your phone like it would somehow explain what just happened. with a deep sigh, you put the phone away and massage your temples, feeling the headache coming. satoru gojo might be the one who’s getting migraines from having six eyes but he always makes sure you have one too, just for the company.

ride back to the school is quick and easy – thankfully you’re in time to beat the rush hour, and currently, you’re standing in front of tokyo high. now that you’ve had time to calm your anger and frustration down, you realize that gojo would’ve at least texted you if he was late. something must’ve happened, and you feel panic start spreading its icy tentacles all over your body. picking up the pace, you almost run through the courtyard, pass the temple decorum and straight to doctor’s office – you assume he would be there if something happened.

you finally stand in front of the door: your breathing is heavy and you’re dizzy from how fast you sped up. the horrors of last year’s mission flash before your eyes, painting it blood, sorrow and anger, and you pray to every god known that it’s not a repeat of that failure. you almost lost suguru to the darkness that preyed on him, stalking his shadows, seeping through his skin – you are still haunted by how hollow his eyes became. you’re sure seeing him like this again will break you instead this time. you try to steady your breathing and knock.

“you can come in.”

of course satoru would know you were here. pushing the door and walking into the room, you are met by two little girls sitting on each suguru’s side on the hospital bed. satoru is standing next to them and observing his best friend who is gently murmuring something to the twins. both of them look unharmed which means shoko already worked her magic if it was necessary. it seems none of you want to bring up the elephant in the room so you just take a sit in the chair next to the desk.

“what happened?” your voice sounds loud in the hushed murmurs bouncing off the wall, and all four pairs of eyes are directed at you. it seems you startled the girls as they grabbed onto suguru’s sleeves – you cannot help but stretch your lips in a pretty smile, waving to them. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you tell them in a hushed tone this time, “would you tell me your names if i told you mine?”

brunette twin shakes her head for the both of them, and you introduce yourself. same girl responds to your curiosity.

“i am mimiko, and we’ve never met our parents but i know i am older by 5 minutes. and this,” she points at the girl on the opposite side of suguru, “is nanako. she is always a little shy so i make sure to talk for the both of us!” blonde girl curls a little more into your friend, and you finally make eye contact with him. you’re a little lost by what you see – hurt, anger, tenderness, confusion, he looks so defeated yet relieved at the same time. you’re turning to look at satoru instead but he only shrugs his shoulders.

“don’t look at me, he didn’t really share any details with me either.”

you hum in response and get up from the chair, walking to where the hospital bed is and squat to face them, extending your hand.

“well, it’s really nice to meet you, mimiko and nanako,” and as you get a little closer to their face, you whisper as it’s meant to be a secret, “i think we’ll become really good friends.”

from what satoru told you, it seems that him and suguru hadn’t had a chance to talk yet – girls looked very attached to dark-haired man already, it’s most likely they wouldn’t leave his side and whatever gojo wanted to discuss was not meant for children’s ears. you’re too scared to overstep the friendship boundary you just started building with the girls but you know the look on your friends’ faces, and they tell you they need to have a serious and most likely unpleasant conversation (not too hard to guess what about). standing up, you tentatively reach out your hands to nanako and mimiko.

“have you ever tried crepes? there is a very good place that sells them nearby. what do you say if we go and grab some dessert, just us girls?”

you could see their eyes lit up as they looked back at suguru, looking for a confirmation you’re safe to go with. he smiled at them (that smile that sometimes makes your heart skip a beat and makes you yearn for something you know you could never have), making wrinkles appear in the corner of his crescent-like eyes.

“she is my friend, you can go with her. i’ll meet you in a little bit,” and as he looked back at you, he mouthed quiet “thank you”. you only smiled in return: suguru never needed to thank you, not after the near escape to hell you guided him away from; not after the sleepless nights you spent keeping him a quiet company on the rooftops of jujutsu tech because silence was everything he needed in those moments; not after tight embraces you had to hold him in when you witnessed a sliver of panic attack creeping up on him when he least expected it. in the year that followed the disastrous star plasma vessel mission, you were the light that guided suguru back to himself, back to satoru, back to you. geto didn’t need to say thank you, at least not to you, not anymore.

grabbing two little girls by their hands, you lead them out of school.

“i promise you we will have the best time.”

present

the particular rough bump of the car brings you back to the present moment. you look at the time on your phone, display showing 11:23pm, and you smile looking at the picture on your lockscreen: it’s a picture of satoru with nanako and mimiko, their mouths stuffed full of crepes.

after suguru decided to take the girls in, you and satoru made it a habit of coming over and helping him take care of them. geto and gojo used to be inseparable but the rift that broke in between them in the year that followed amanai riko’s death was a surprise. being close to both strongest sorcerers, you knew why it was there, you knew the sheer trauma of it for both of them. so you stayed with gojo when he needed you to keep reminding him that his shoulders do not have to carry the weight of the whole world, and you’re here to share it. and you stayed with geto when he was plunged into the coldness of heart-wrenching guilt and needed you to pull him out from under the deep. after suguru adopted nanako and mimiko, you were the bridge that crossed a seemingly bottomless crevice between the two of them.

making satoru see what he was missing with suguru’s behavour at the time and asking suguru to understand why satoru was seemingly oblivious to it in the first place – the confusion, the pain, the loss of innocence, and everything unsaid that went on between them – was almost as difficult as being a sorcerer in the first place. by a miracle, you stopped being their overpass as they started rebuilding their bridges themselves. yet, the connection you weaved with the sacred geometry of your hands between the three of you created a special bond that prevailed until this day.

unlocking your phone, you scroll through the earlier messages in the chat: messages that kids already miss you (sent 30 minutes after your plane took off on friday), stories about their successful disneyworld trip on saturday (traitors, you think, you’ve been begging them for a family outing there for months now), and cake-baking adventures today (you internally dread the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the kitchen). looking back at you from your home screen is the picture of megumi and tsumiki on their first day of school, proud suguru holding both their hands (megumi refused to hold satoru’s hand so he refused to be in the picture – sometimes you wonder who is the older out of the two). warmth takes over your entire being once again, and you allow yourself to recollect the memories of how the last pieces of your family all came together.

2 years ago

“i am going to meet with that kid fushiguro was talking about before he, you know,” and satoru dramatically slashed his neck with his finger, poking his tongue out, imitating a dead face. nanako and mimiko laughed from the opposite side of the table while you kicked him on the shin.

“please, satoru, i didn’t sign up to babysit three kids. eat your breakfast, i need to get girls to pre-school, we can talk about it once i’m back.”

“what if i drive you? and then we can go grab kikufuku from the new place that opened near shinjuku station, i heard it’s really good.”

“satoru, it’s 7am in the morning. unlike you, i am a normal human being who cannot possibly consume that much sugar this early. and,” you lean in closer and whisper so the girls cannot hear, “please don’t say stuff like this in front of the twins, they will think it’s normal to be asking for dessert at this ungodly hour.”

satoru thinks it’s adorable, how you huff and puff at the girls like a mother hen. ever since the girls started living with suguru, you made it your mission to come over at least once a week to make sure they have everything they need – and nanako and mimiko, as they once confessed to geto, love your presence. after everything they’ve been through, the girls learned to recognize the intention behind people’s auras, and yours only gave them peace. and, unbeknownst to them at this tender age, they have craved peace for a very long time. so he bites his tongue and keeps the snarky remark he wanted to say, instead quietly whispering “sorry”, and you appreciate the gesture that may seem small to another, but speaks volume to yourself.

“fine. we will be leaving in,” you look at the watch, squinting and thinking about how much time you have left, “30 minutes, make sure you’re ready or we’re leaving without you.”

you let the twins finish their breakfast and rush both of them to brush their teeth before you prep their outfits. suguru was sent out on a mission for the whole week (you worry; satoru tells you that with how much you worry about everyone and everything, you’ll be grayer than him in couple of years) and asked you to stay with the girls until he returns. you won’t lie – you’ve grown attached to them within the short amount of time you’ve been helping taking care of them so you agreed to babysit in a millisecond.

you didn’t expect that a third child will be living with you all this week too.

“why don’t i get my outfit chosen for me?” you feel satoru before you can even hear him, the never-ending reach of his limitless tingling your senses, rushing the goosebumps up your spine (this is totally normal, right? friends make other friends feel like this, right?). and you wish he would only be the omniscient presence that makes your knees weak because as soon as he opens his mouth, you want to roll your eyes and smack the back of his head. you learned to treat him like a child, if he wanted to behave like one.

“because mommy is busy and you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

satoru did not expect you to say that, sudden blush rushing to his face making his thoughts drift in a direction incredibly inappropriate for a friend. great. you’re so gross, satoru. he suddenly turned away and rushed out from the bedroom (if you had more time, you would’ve asked him what his deal was but alas, you were already running late). then he proceeded to stay quiet the whole morning: while you were getting nanako and mimiko dressed, while he was driving all of you to school, while you waved goodbye to the girls and made your way back to the car. the phrase kept running through his mind the whole time until you cleared your throat and looked at him with your brow raised.

“what’s gotten into you? you’ve been suspiciously quiet the whole morning. didn’t you want to talk about something?”

he forced all the wrong thoughts to stay hidden for now, patted them away like crows nibbling at the forbidden nerves of his sudden need. he cleared his throat and started driving away from the school, not knowing where he was taking the two of you yet.

“uh, yeah. i was telling you that i am going to meet with the fushiguro kid tomorrow.”

“okay… and?”

“and what?”

“what are you going to do?”

megumi fushiguro was discussed among you before, but no concrete decision was ever reached. what if the kid doesn’t even want to go with him? he won’t be able to drag him by force unless he wants to be accused of child abduction.

“i don’t know. if he does want to come with me, i have the resources to keep him out of whatever deal his father cooked up for him with the zen’in clan. but if he doesn’t… by the time he realizes what zen’ins are, and if he ever wants to leave, it’ll be too late,” satoru clicks his tongue at the mention of one of the three big families. it’s no secret gojo clan has not seen eye-to-eye with zen’ins for a long time now but for satoru, it’s personal.

“you know, if you decide to take him in, it’s not like one more child will really make a difference. you’ll just have to stop coming around and it’s like nothing changed,” the words come out of you with such levity, satoru sometimes thinks you don’t even realize that your presence alone can make a wilted flower spring back to life.

he can only laugh in response. you haven’t even met the kid and you already welcome him like it’s nothing to worry about. gojo always wanted to compare you to the sun, the stars or any other celestial being that shines so brightly, they illuminate every shadow in their reach. but as the time passed, he realized that he didn’t want you to be a sun, or a star – then he will have to share your light with everyone else. no, you’re a flame in the home’s fireplace, warm and inviting to anyone who’s welcomed into your humble abode but lost to everyone else.

“you say that now. let’s see what happens when i show up with two kids instead of one.”

present

the memory makes you chuckle. sometimes you wonder if he knew megumi had a sister because when he did show up with two kids instead of a promised one, you swore he looked as smug as ever.

as the time went on, spreading yourself thin between going to university (you said you wanted to finish your degree in case your career as a sorcerer doesn’t work out), helping out geto and gojo on their missions when they asked you, and helping take care of both suguru’s girls and fushiguro siblings was proving to be too much. so satoru, for all his seemingly unlimited resources, decided that buying a house and living all together will be better. you knew that it was easier to move a mountain than change gojo’s mind once it’s been set on something so you didn’t argue. to no one’s surprise, living together for all of you came as naturally as breathing. who said a family cannot be three barely functioning not-even-yet adults and their four adopted children?

the familiar silhouette of home comes into view, and you sigh with relief. when the cab stops, you pay the driver, grabbing your things and rushing our the car. it’s the moments like this you envy satoru’s teleportation ability though you will never admit it to him out loud, lest you inflate his ego even more. you’re barely able to step away from the gates when the front door to the house swings open and you see the person you were just thinking about poking his head out.

“need a hand?”

gojo is as cheerful as ever, and you cannot help but smile back, lips stretching in that tired way he finds almost domestic, and he feels something prick inside him. not now. you want to say something back, but you’re interrupted by the sound of little footsteps running past satoru, towards you.

“you’re back, you’re back!” nanako and mimiko are the first rushing to greet you, with tsumiki hot on their tail. you see megumi standing in the doorframe trying to pat away satoru’s hand resting on top of his head as he comes out to greet you as well.

“oh my god, ‘toru, what are they still doing up, it’s past 12am!” you redirect your attention to the kids instead. “what are you little rascals still doing up, uh? just because you don’t have school tomorrow doesn’t mean you don’t have a sleeping schedule anymore!”

“gojo-san and geto-san said we can stay up today!”

“3 years later and you’re still the only one they call by your first name,” you hear suguru before you can see him: he is standing on the opposite side of megumi, letting the kid hide behind his leg to get away from gojo’s assault on his hair. you smile at them and decide there is no point of staying mad at them any longer.

the men help you to bring your bags inside, and you collapse on the couch as soon as you pass the threshold of your home.

“how was your trip?” megumi asks as he slowly crawls to sit on your right side. out of all the kids, megumi was the hardest to read – for a child his age, he was overly perceptive and did feel almost like an adult at times. what did satoru call him? a child-man, that’s right.

“it was good, ‘gumi. ‘m just tired now. how was your weekend? i saw someone took you to disneyworld when i was asking for it the whole time,” you said, raising your voice at the later part of the sentence so it can reach gojo and geto’s ears from where they were in the kitchen. you could only hear a light chuckle back.

“it was so fun! mimiko was scared of the ride we went on, but i was so brave!” nanako’s eyes twinkled with so much joy, you really wish you witnessed the moment yourself. satoru was right all those years ago, you were a mother hen back then, you’re a mother hen now.

“no, i wasn’t! tsumiki was scared more!”

“why are you lying? no, i wasn’t!”

“ay, ay! i’m sure all of you were equally brave. now, can you tell me why you stayed up this late?” you finally sit everyone down, satoru and suguru joining you with freshly brewed tea, and think this is the most at peace you’ve ever felt.

“we were waiting for you…” tsumiki shyly confesses on behalf of everyone.

“oh,” your vision gets blurry and you feel pearly beads of tears pool in the corner of your eyes before quickly blinking them away.

“ughhh, you cute little puppies, i just want to eat you up,” you say before anyone can question your tears and pull all of the kids into a bear hug. time is late, however, so you make a quick work of tucking everyone into bed now that they’ve seen you. you say your goodnights and leave their rooms.

“do we not get a hug now?” satoru asks, wearing his signature smirk, and you want to clap back with a retort of your own, chastise them for letting the kids eat cake for dinner and stay up past midnight, or remind them that they are not seven years old anymore; but the car trip and the memories you revisited bring out something nostalgic in you making you slowly walk up to satoru and hug him instead. he is taken aback at first but gojo has always been good at recovering from momentary stupor so he’s pulling you back into a hug in no time.

“you two are rude,” comes from suguru’s side and as soon as you’re untangling yourself from gojo, you’re walking up to the raven-haired sorcerer to do the same.

“i missed you two idiots.”

“we missed you too.”

the silence stretches across the room but it’s comforting and inviting, like an old friend who hasn’t visited in a while, enveloping the three of you in its embrace. you look at the clock on the wall, showing you 1:05am, and suddenly your whole body feels heavy.

“sorry guys, i think the trip is finally showing its signs… i am so tired, don’t even have energy to take a shower,” you say and groan in disgust. you hate going to bed without washing the grime of the day off your body but the fatigue is clinging onto your skin like humid air. “i’m going to bed now, see you guys tomorrow.”

“good night.”

“sleep well.”

and if you paid closer attention, you would’ve noticed the deep seated longing in the men’s gazes, the one that you sometimes have to hide from them too; you would’ve noticed how suguru’s hand is following yours long after you’re out of their sight, and how satoru’s tongue darted out to wet his lips when you were pressed against him, even if for a second; you would’ve noticed that the feelings you’ve been trying to push deep down for your two best friends are reflected all the same somewhere in the constellation of their eyes.

next morning you wake up as a result of someone laughing your name and jumping on your bed. sunlight is peaking through the curtains, making sun bunnies dance on the walls of your room and kiss your cheeks. you try to open your eyes but your head feels heavy like you’ve just fallen asleep and you struggle to make out your surroundings – feeling disoriented first thing in the morning is definitely your least favorite thing. you groan softly and finally force yourself to lift your eyelids – as you do so, you’re met with two little girls using your bed as a make-shift trampoline.

“wake up! wake up! gojo-san and geto-san told us we will be leaving to go to the sea in an hour!” and they swiftly left, just as quickly as they had come in, leaving you to stare up at the ceiling in confusion.

“uh?”

once the words really settled in, you’re getting up from the bed in record time and putting on the first clothes you lay your eyes on. you find the strongest duo already up and ready. all of the kids, worryingly, also look like they are ready to leave the house, and there are bags near the door with both satoru and suguru looking too smug not to be suspicious about it.

“what is going on here?” you ask from the doorway that connects the hallway leading to your rooms to the kitchen. “why am i hearing that we’re going to the sea, and why are you dressed like this?”

“well,” satoru starts, “because we are going to the sea so we’re wearing appropriate clothing. you’re the only one who’s still not dressed.

you close your eyes and massage the bridge of your nose. mentally you douse whatever feelings you were having for these idiots yesterday.

“why am i hearing about this only now?”

“surprise?..”

“i know it’s last minute, but satoru made a promise to drive so you can relax in the car while we’re on the way there. just get ready and we can leave right after,” suguru says from his place on the couch, and you cannot help but sigh deeply and return to your room to shower and quickly pack.

when you’re out of earshot, geto shoots gojo a look.

“what are you planning, satoru?”

“why would i be planning anything? she’s been really stressed recently, and then the higher ups have the audacity to send her away for a whole weekend and give you a mission that took your whole sunday at the same time she was sent away. i was overworked the week before that. sometimes it feels like they are doing this on purpose. so maybe we should all disappear for a couple of days with no way of contacting us, maybe they’ll stop pestering us like we’re the only sorcerers available.”

“very mature of you, ‘toru.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

the two of them finish packing the last of the food that gojo bought in the morning while waiting for you. reserving a spot this late in one of the most popular vacation spots in japan was hard, but nothing is impossible when you’re satoru gojo.

you’re ready in record time, and the kids are all yelling and arguing about who is going to sit where. you need to intervene and say you will be sitting in the back of suv with nanako and mimiko, while mugumi and tsumiki agreed to sit in the middle row; suguru is riding shotgun and satoru has agreed to be your driver for the ride. unsurprisingly, not even an hour out of the city, the car is filled with snoring as the kids fell asleep shortly after you started driving. you feel yourself getting drowsy, closing your eyes and swearing you will only sleep for a moment. however, the next time you open them, you’re informed by suguru that all of you are already halfway through the trip.

“oh my god, i can’t believe i slept for that long,” you mumble through a voice heavy with drowsiness. “i think it’s best if we stop somewhere now, i’ll wake the kids up so they can eat quickly and pee. i suggest we all do it.”

“yeah, i think it would be best, i don’t know if we will have the opportunity to stop any time soon,” satoru agrees with you, and the drive continues for 20 more minutes until you’re stopping at the gas station. you gently wake the kids up and let them know that they need to have a snack and go to the restroom (time is 11:20am and they should be able to fall asleep again with no issues after that).

“how much longer do you think we have to drive?” you ask satoru as he is refilling the gas tank. you’re watching suguru watch the kids where they are running around nearby.

“maybe 2.5-3 hours, depending on the traffic.”

“did something happen during the weekend?”

“no, why would you ask?”

“hm…” you quickly hum, “this is all too sudden for it to be spontaneous.”

“oh, common, don’t be like that. i just think the little family of ours needs a mini vacation, that is all.”

as soon as the words leave his mouth, gojo can feel the blush creeping up all the way to his ears and he clears his throat, walking away. you don’t know what makes you giggle more – the way he admits that whatever it is you have, he also sees it as a family, or the way the confession makes him feel embarrassed. you observe him preparing to get into the driver’s seat – sometimes you wonder what is happening in that handsome head of his. you glance at suguru and wonder if he would have a better guess.

gojo lets you know that you’re good to depart again. the second part of the trip is as chaotic as you would imagine it go and you give up on trying to make kids to go back to sleep. instead, you’re breaking up the fights between almost everyone: nanako and mimiko argue about their friendship bracelets across from you; you keep having to remind gojo that he is indeed an adult in this situation while he wants to continue arguing with megumi; and suguru somehow breaks the AC so the last 30 minutes of the drive everyone is suffering in silence.

once you finally pull up to the little vacation house gojo somehow procured at the last moment, you’re already feeling at your limit: you need the sun and to dive into warm water before you start losing your hair.

geto helps you with the bags while gojo unloads everything into the kitchen – you’re not sure how long you’re staying here for but the amount of food they brought will last you a nuclear winter. the children are excited about their rooms, and you must keep reminding them to be careful and to not run into any corners despite their enthusiasm. you help them unpack and choose outfits for the day – it’s been decided in the car that you will be going to the beach as soon as you’re settled.

everyone is ready in half an hour – you helped the girls get into their swimming suits, while megumi insisted he can do it himself (you suggested geto or gojo help him, but he closed the door in their faces and didn’t come out until he was done). both men were already waiting by the door with the picnic bags and beach essentials – you had to admit they looked a little too good, making a knot twist in your stomach.

satoru was dressed in a simple white button up that matched his hair and a pair of navy swim trunks. maybe he was right, this trip was long overdue for all three of you, as gojo looked more relaxed and at peace than you’ve seen him in a while. his lips were stretch into a lazy smile and his eyes, unobstructed by the glasses or a blindfold, had a glint of mischief that reminded you of a 16 year-old boy you met all those years ago. he tried his best to style his white unruly hair but the surrounding humidity only made it frizzier.

gojo makes it seem almost effortless, with how good he looks, and maybe part of it is true – despite never admitting it out loud, you know he won the genetic lottery when it came to his appearance. but you also know that satoru has an unrelenting skin care routine (because you buy your products together); that he asks what you think about his outfits even though you keep repeating you should be the last person he asks for fashion advice (don’t worry about it, princess, your opinion is the only one that matters anyways and you hate how your heart clenches at these words); and that he spends 45 minutes taking his showers. but what gojo doesn’t know is that you adore him the most first thing in the morning – eyes so sleepy he can barely keep them open, voice gruff and low asking what’s for breakfast, wearing his sleeping gray sweatpants and nothing else. and he will never know lest you want to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to build between the three of you.

you moved your eyes away from gojo to where suguru was leaning on the door. he was wearing a blue hawaiian shirt with the three top buttons popped off, paired with simple black swimming shorts. his hair was put into a perfect manbun, however, unrelenting bangs always make themselves known untangled from the rest of his locks. you noticed it back when you were teenagers and got used to carrying bobby pins for him – he somehow always leaves them at home (you will never admit but you love the fact that he always forgets them – it gives you another reason to run your fingers through his hair) – and this habit stayed with you all the way into adulthood. while satoru was handsome in a regal way, suguru was all sharp edges that made him look almost dangerous – pronounced jaw, pointy nose, almost cat-like eyes; the kind of beauty that always makes you weak in the knees.

“see something you like?” satoru’s voice takes you out of your daydream and, shamefully, you realize you’ve been standing in the corridor doorway, gawking at them like it’s your first time seeing their faces. you only groan in response and roll your eyes, trying to hide the blush that adores your neck and flushes your cheeks red.

“if i saw something i like, i would’ve told you,” and you stick your tongue out. liar.

“are you feeling well? you look a little red, maybe you got a fever?” comes from suguru’s side now as he tries to reach for your forehead but you swat his hand away.

“ugh, i hate both of you.” liar. they only laugh when you rush past them, megumi and nanako on either side of you holding your hands while tsumiki sits on satoru’s shoulders and mimiko takes her rightful place on suguru’s back.

“whatever you say, sweetheart.”

the way to the beach is short and sweet, your attention is fully dedicated to megumi and nanako as they re-tell you the stories from their weekend. ‘gumi won a plushy and gave it to mimiko because she asked him to play in the first place, and tsumiki, apparently, had the highest score in the game where you punch a bag to see how strong you are. nanako says that helping satoru bake the cheesecake on sunday was her favorite part of the weekend, and you make a mental note to let her help you the next time you do it.

from behind you, geto and gojo observe your interactions with the kids, each of them in their own thoughts, yet both mulling over the same thing – you, letting tsumiki and mimiko chat between themselves.

neither of them thought you would become a constant in their lives when they decided to take in the kids – after all, none of you were in a relationship, despite their feelings for you, and you had no obligations to be giving them so much of your time. but as the time went on, all three of you fell into a comfortable routine that was both a blessing and a curse – they couldn’t confess that the boyish crush they had on you in your teenage years not only endured but blossomed into something so much more. that something kept growing inside their ribcages, weaving and building a home there, rooting itself so deep, they forgot what life was like before you offered them your light.

satoru and suguru only discussed this once between each other. the unspoken feelings they had not only for you but also for each other made already complex situation even more complicated. the fear of damaging the carefully built dynamic between the three of you was overwhelming - so overwhelming in fact, both agreed to never speak of this again. pandora’s box was sealed, and only you behold the power to open it. the strongest duo knows why this little box of wonders needs to be locked far away from them - however, it’s moments like this, when megumi asks to be carried in your hands (even though he’s getting too big for that) while nanako clenches your hand harder and you indulge both of them without a moment’s delay, that make them wish you knew: knew how much suguru adores the little tilt to your head when you’re confused about something, knew how much satoru loves smoothing out the wrinkles on your head when you’re deep in the thought, knew how both of them yearn for your laugh after a long day.

the cute white bikini you’re wearing is definitely not helping the ever-running thoughts two men are trying so hard to push down. it’s not the first time the absolute indecency of their desire is sparked by the slight bounce of your tits and the swing of your hips. memories of countless times they had to take an extra shower in the morning because you would show up in the kitchen in one of their shirts, without a bra, nipples hard and visible through a thin fabric, should make them feel embarrassed, yet the shame never comes. when did the longing for you start feeling so right?

as the years progressed, this dance the three of you did around each other became familiar, and none of you dared to switch the melody.

sometimes you wish you were brave enough to do it.

“look, look, we’re finally here!” mimiko yells from suguru’s back and then instructs him to put her down. nanako lets go of your hand as tsumiki’s climbing down satoru’s shoulders, and three girls run away towards the sea.

“be careful! you still need to put your sunscreen, don’t run away too far!” you move your attention to the little boy you released from your hold as you entered the beach, “‘gumi, you’re not going with them?”

you wiggle his arm back and forth (his hand is so tight in yours, gripping now harder than before) but he refuses to look at you so you don’t push.

“did you forget he doesn’t know how to swim?” satoru says from behind you, and you shoot him a look. god, was he purposefully trying to rile megumi? fushiguro only digs his fingers further into your hand, and you honestly want to bite satoru’s head off.

“that’s okay, baby, i’m sure your dad needed support of his whole clan when he was trying to learn how to swim.”

“he is not my dad.”

your brain goes blank for a second, and you hope satoru did not hear what you just said (he did; but he thinks he’ll spare you the further embarrassment; he also doesn’t want to admit that it makes his stomach turn in a way he wish it wouldn’t).

“you’re right, dummy like him could never be your dad.”

you find the spot not too far from where the girls are playing, and you help geto and gojo set up the blankets and umbrellas. while they are making sure none of it flies away with the first gust of the wind, you search for the sunscreen in your bag.

“girls! come here, we need to put sunscreen on you!”

you hear the tatter of 6 feet rushing towards you, trying to get first in line so they can all get back to playing in the water. you hand satoru and suguru two other tubes you brought.

“help me to put this on them. i think if we don’t do it in the next minute, they will actually explode,” you say, smiling at how impatient tsumiki is being in front of you as she keeps bouncing on her legs. before you start on the sunscreen, you turn her so her back is facing you and let her hair out of the ponytail as you try to retie it. she winces a bit and lets out a small ouch.

“’m sorry baby, didn’t meant to hurt you, you okay?” you ask as you rub on the roots of her hair.

“yeah, i’m okay!” she exclaims loudly, making you giggle. once her bun is all set in place, you quickly put the sunscreen on her whole body, finishing with the face, and boop her nose. tsumiki scrunches it in her adorable way, and you feel your heart swell with joy and love.

once the girls run off again, suguru comes up to you with the tube of sunscreen in hands.

“don’t you think you need a little help too?”

the smile adorning his face is so sweet, he doesn’t realize the summersaults it’s making your heart to do. and when you think about those hands on your shoulders, on your back, going lower where you want them most, you realize you actually might be burning up. but you can’t come up with an excuse fast enough not to let him do it so, without any words lest you’ll be embarrassing yourself, you just turn around and present him your back.

geto start slowly with your shoulders, squeezing the tube and spreading the sunscreen on your soft skin. you swear you can hear him sharply inhale, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat. you let yourself wonder, just for a second, how these hands would feel on the parts of your body where you want them most, if geto would be as gentle squeezing your breasts and tugging at your nipples. and when his hands start travelling lower, caressing the space between your shoulder blades and running his fingers down your spine, you wonder if his long digits would reach the spot inside your gummy walls that you’re unable to find yourself. you absolutely lose yourself to the indecent thoughts when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your lower back. that man, you think, if only he knew what he was doing. it takes all of your willpower to prevent yourself from moaning out loud and not tremble at his mere touch. you want to lean back and tilt your head to the side so geto can leave a trail of wet kisses on the side of your neck, following the curve of it to your jaw, and capture your lips in a way that only lovers can.

you can feel your skin grow hot and your white bikini better not show how embarrassingly wet you got from your best friend’s touch. you’re so sick, you think to yourself and before it becomes any worse, you’re untangling yourself from suguru’s arms and call out for megumi.

“i… uh… will go swim with him, don’t want him to get bored,” you breathlessly whisper as if too afraid to speak any louder, and call out to the boy.

“‘gumi, common! grab your floaties and we’ll go play a little further away from the girls,” you wait for him to grab his stuff, and you notice one of his rare smiles – he never hid the fact that you were his favorite out of three adults, and he always feels a little smug when your undivided attention is on him. satoru shoots him a knowing look which megumi successfully ignores, clinging to you.

you pass the girls as you show them the direction you’re taking megumi in and they all say “okay!” at the same time like it’s rehearsed. mimiko, nanako and tsumiki are in a competition to see who can gather the most seashells and are left under the attentive gaze of gojo and geto. you help megumi put his floaties on and gather him into your arms so you can walk a little deeper: once you’re satisfied with the distance, you try to let him go but he is attached to you like a baby koala.

“common ‘gumi, i promise i won’t let you go, okay? i’ll be right here in case you need help, and i’ll be also holding onto you the whole time.”

fushiguro only violently shakes his head, not wanting to be in the water by himself. you wonder where this fear comes from and think you’ll have to revisit it later. you don’t push any further, and hug him closer, running a smoothing hand on his back while he puts his head on your shoulder. you squat a little to help him get adjusted to the temperature, and he shrieks from the sudden rush of water above his waist while hugging you tighter, almost choking you. laughter bubbles in your throat but you don’t want to make megumi feel worse than he already does so you try your best not to let it out.

“hey, baby, it’s okay. i am holding you, yeah?” and as you say that, you try to push him away from you one more time, to let him experience the ocean by himself but he only tightens his hold as a sign he is not moving away. so you resign to gently swaying with him in the water, letting the salty waves wash around you. you can feel the sunlight dancing on your skin, warm breeze carrying all your worries away, if just for a moment, and you close your eyes allowing yourself to take all of it in. megumi’s head is pleasantly heavy on your shoulder, and you walk little bit further away from the beach until you bump into someone.

“oh, i am so sorry!” you instantly apologize and turn around. what you don’t expect is to be met with the pair of the most beautiful green eyes you see (your mind involuntarily goes to gojo and how even these emerald eyes pale to comparison to the infinity carried by his gaze). you think if your heart didn’t belong to the two most annoying human beings you’ve ever had a pleasure of encountering, you would’ve fallen head over hills right here, right now.

“please, no need to apologize.”

surprise number two: this stranger is not only handsome, but also has a voice that makes you want to do whatever he asks you to, as long as he keeps talking to you. and again, you think how unfortunate of you to fall in love with two people you can’t have when men like this walk around for free.

he smiles when his attention falls to megumi - little boy appears not to be happy with this encounter. who does this man thinks he is? maybe megumi didn’t want to learn how to swim, it doesn’t mean that he is willing to share you when he just got you away from two men on the beach (he is not old enough to rationalize that what he is feeling is jealousy; you never noticed but, geto and gojo excluded, he never liked how other men talk to you in the first place).

a handsome stranger doesn’t seem taken aback by the attitude from megumi, and for a seven-year-old, your little boy has a mean death stare.

“he is very cute, what is his name?”

“he’s megumi,” you give him your name as well and extend the arm for introduction. before a man can even respond, megumi is tugging your arm away and whines, speaking loud enough for satoru and suguru to hear, who, unbeknownst to you, have been watching the interaction this whole time (spoiler – they are not very happy about it but proud of the kid, truly an oscar-worthy performance).

“mommy, i want to learn how to swim now!”

you think you heard him wrong – he has never called you this before. if it happened any other time, you think you would’ve cried tears of happiness. now it only makes you feel stupor. how does he even know to call you mommy in this situation? megumi has always been the most well-behaved one out of all four kids, the disbelief at his attitude is written all over your face. what is he playing at?

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize he was your kid,” the man says but hurries to add, “i adore children though; i work at a pre-school. hi megumi, my name is rei.”

the boy looks at the outstretched hand the man offered like it personally offended him. all of a sudden, he points to the beach where satoru and suguru seat and announces, yet again loud enough for them to hear.

“my daddies are just right there!”

what happened to “he’s not my dad?” you think in panic.

you’re not sure if gojo and geto can hear the full conversation, but they wave back at you anyways. rei moves his gaze from you to megumi to two men on the beach, trying to decide if he should believe it or not. you, on the other hand, are speechless and currently wishing someone would be kind enough to curse you right now, or for the ground to split and swallow you whole with how hot and embarrassed you feel. megumi is so grounded today. you can feel the inner temperature rise to the inappropriate levels, feeling like a kettle that is about to overheat – you don’t wait for rei’s response while saying awkward “bye, nice meeting you!” and rushing away.

“welcome back, mommy,” satoru teases when you settle back at your spot. megumi is sitting on the opposite side of you, munching on the watermelon like he didn’t just make an absolute fool out of you in front of a random man. you try your best to ignore satoru, but his comment only makes you groan, sound almost bordering a sob.

“please, for the love of everything holy, don’t say another word. i bet it was you who put this idea into his head.”

“you know as well as we do that you can’t make megumi do anything he doesn’t want to,” gojo responds with the knowing smirk, and you only sink into yourself further. your face is burning up, and now you think it’s not because megumi’s whole afternoon mission was apparently to embarrass you in front of a stranger but because of what he said. the shock of the moment is finally dissipating, instead giving the space to indescribable tenderness. you will have to cry about it later on your own so to save yourself further shame, you hide your face behind your hat and lay down, contemplating how this one simple word somehow turned all of your insides upside down.

what you fail to notice is the proud smile satoru shoots to megumi, mouthing “good job” and suguru passing him his favorite candy knowing he’s not allowed to eat it before dinner.

you feel absolutely drained. after the incident with megumi, you stayed in the same position until the kids started complaining that they were hungry. the sun is getting low, painting the skies ochre and pink, giving everyone its glowing kiss. you dare to peek at satoru and suguru, and they looked almost ethereal – sunshine dancing on satoru’s white eyelashes as he dries tsumiki with a towel and nodding enthusiastically at the collection of shells she is showing him, while suguru tries to untie nanako’s wet hair so he can wrap a towel around it. mimiko slowly drags her legs towards you, poor girl absolutely exhausted, and as soon as you open your arms to embrace her with a towel of her own, she plops against you and almost momentarily falls asleep.

suguru offers to carry her home, but you wave him off, asking to grab megumi’s hand instead.

“i am not cooking once we get home, we better buy food now or we can drive into the city.”

“ugh, i don’t think i have the strength to drive,” satoru whines like he is the youngest out of the bunch. “let’s just buy something here, it smells pretty good.”

suguru only hums in agreement, listening to nanako and tsumiki argue about who got the most shells (both fail to count their shells correctly), and with that, your dinner plans are decided with satoru ordering your food from the stall nearby.

“what do we say when someone gets you food?”

“thank you, gojo-san!” three little voices echo each other, and you’re surprised even megumi joined in. the way back home is quick as you’re standing in front of your door in no time.

“oh my god, my legs are killing me,” you complain as you pass the threshold of the house. mimiko has been sleeping in your arms the whole way back, and you don’t know if you should wake her up and ask her to eat, or if you should just let her sleep. you can still smell the ocean on her skin, and you decide it’s best for her hygiene and your peace of mind that she is clean before she goes to bed too so with a heavy heart, you’re gently shaking her awake once you sit down on the couch.

“hey sweetie, we’re home. let’s eat, bathe and then i’ll put you back to bed, yeah?” her eyes are unfocused as she opens them, and she’s letting out a long yawn before slowly nodding her head and getting up.

“okay, everyone, go wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon,” suguru says from where he already stands in the kitchen, and all four pairs of legs excitedly hurry away.

“i hope the adventure today is enough to put them all to sleep right away,” you wistfully say.

“with their tummies full, i’m sure they will pass out in no time,” suguru says back while satoru circles around him to grab the plates from the overhead cupboards. you want to get up and help but looking at them like this, all domestic and familiar, the side of the strongest sorcerers only you get to see, makes you stall for a second to appreciate this moment for a little longer. the dull ache in your chest starts throbbing again as if someone’s picking at the rough edges that never seem to fully heal, and you wonder if you could have it all if you were a little more selfish. you shake your head banishing all unnecessary thoughts from your head.

the dinner is eaten quickly, everyone so hungry, you barely exchange any words. you can see the children are struggling to keep their eyes open, tsumiki almost falling face first into the plate, so you make a quick work of their unfinished dinner and hurry them into a bathtub. megumi insists he is old enough to take a bath separately from the girls so you ask either satoru or suguru to help him (megumi makes it known who he prefers by grabbing suguru’s hand and dragging him to the second bathroom). bath time is also surprisingly quiet, low energy in the room being an indicator of just how exhausted everyone is.

with the kids finally tucked into bed (megumi apologized for misbehaving, and you think about how far you’ve come with the boy who wouldn’t utter a full sentence to you for the first 6 months), you grab the beer from the fridge and make your way onto the patio where satoru and suguru are already engaged in conversation.

they turn their heads toward you once you step outside and offer you the space between them which you gladly take. you can see suguru is nursing his own beer, while satoru opted out for a bottle of virgin mojito.

“did neither of you really ask megumi to call me “mommy” today?” you wonder out loud as you’re looking out into the horizon, where the last rays of sun melt into the ocean, clearing the canvas for the stars to spark to life.

“nah, you know how stubborn that kid is,” satoru drawls as he takes another sip of the drink; you scrunch your nose just imagining how sweet that concoction is but smile, nonetheless. “plus, it was nice being called a dad.”

both you and suguru turn to look at him, but he stubbornly keeps staring forward. you snort, seeing geto’s smile in your peripheral vision, but there is no malice behind your action. both you and suguru always knew that gojo cared in the same capacity as the two of you for the kids, he was just a little more stubborn about admitting it. you can see it in the way he handles them after they wake up from nightmares (because he knows the same thing haunts him), how he packs them lunches to school when neither you or suguru are able to do it (i know i am not as great of a cook as those two but it’s better than buying stuff from the store), how he allows them to have sweets from his secret stash when everyone else (even you and geto) are not permitted to even think about it. the two of you always knew how much he cared – satoru just needed a little push to say it out loud.

you’re about to say something witty but suguru speaks up first.

“would you have continued flirting with that man if it wasn’t for megumi?”

“flirting? i wasn’t flirting with him!”

“whatever, talking,” geto waves a hand at you like it’s all unimportant details. “would you?”

the air suddenly feels charged with electricity, years of longing and yearning threaten to rip everything at the seams. you tried so hard to move past them, move past your silly little crush, failing miserably. not that dating other people was an option for you anyways – you are sure anyone, upon hearing that you take care of four small children at only age 21, will run away in the opposite direction. it’s a good thing it didn’t matter to you either way – the kids became an integral part of your life, and you would not give them up for anything. but sometimes, just sometimes, when the loneliness creeps into the parts of your bones that have no space for it, when the heart becomes a little too big for your own chest trying to escape through rushed beats, when you tremble from how longing encompasses your whole being, you wonder how it would feel if romantic love was made for you too.

you tilt your head to look at suguru, trying to find something in his face. he doesn’t know why he asked that question – maybe it’s the sun rush of the day, the good mood he’s been in recently or how that man looked at your body – but it felt right. and he knows he’s being selfish without discussing it with satoru beforehand, but he’s so tired of hiding, so tired of pretending like he doesn’t dream of waking up next to your warm bodies, so tired of thinking about what ifs and could haves - asking that question only felt right.

“no, i don’t think i would’ve returned his sentiment,” you simply state and hope that they would leave it at that. you know they never do.

“why?” it’s satoru’s turn in this interrogation, and he looks at you in a way that makes your pulse pick up its pace.

“because…” you don’t know what you’re supposed to say. because you’re in love with your best friends? have been since you were 16 years old? you’ve been carrying the weight of unrequited love for so long now, you think you’re afraid what will happen to the space it occupies if you confess. you hope you know them enough to realize they will not make fun of you for your confession, at most making lighthearted jokes about how they always knew you were not immune to their charms, but your palms are getting sweaty just anticipating their reaction.

“because?” satoru nudges you again, and you dare to steal a glance into his baby blues. satoru’s eyes have been compared to the most prized sapphires, an ocean that will never be fully explored, the skies that are bigger than life itself – all the metaphors that describe him to the outside world perfectly. however for you, his eyes are the color of blueberries that he painstakingly picks out of tsumiki’s desserts and gives to megumi; they are the color of his favorite shirt that is more gray now than blue with how much he washed it but refuses to throw away; it’s the blue ribbons he picked out for nanako’s and mimiko’s hair for their first day of school. you look into his eyes and see a sparkle of something familiar, something you’ve seen in your eyes times and times before, staring back from the reflection in the mirror.

unexpectedly, you feel dizzy and don’t know if it’s the summer breeze that makes your head feel heavy, the alcohol swimming in your veins, or the present company, but you’re brought back to when you were all 16 and innocent, to the moment before the steady ground was violently ripped from right underneath your feet. you think about amanai and that she still loved and cared despite knowing how all of it would end for her. you think about haibara, and how he was full of promise and life and so, so much love, you almost feel sick again.

you’re quiet as you contemplate, and the men don’t interrupt your train of thoughts. memories flash before your eyes like snapshots of old cameras, making them wonder where you have gone off to.

but then you think about how it ended, for the both of your friends, in blood and violence and guilt, their life threads cut short before either of them knew what life even is. amanai and haibara didn’t get enough time to figure it all out: have they loved anyone the way you love satoru and suguru? would have they have had time to figure it out if it was a fair world?

you can feel your best friends’ body heat wrap around you, encapsulating you in their scent and presence, and you decide you’d like to stay like this forever. you think about everyone who didn’t get to spend another hour with someone they love, and you realize you’d regret it your whole life if something happens and they didn’t know how they make you feel. and with the life you lead, something can happen at any moment. you steady your hands and take a deep breath, reading yourself. now or never.

“because i am in love with you two, and i have been since we were 16.”

you close your eyes, waiting for the laugh to come, for them to say oh, you little silly girl, to chastise you for falling for the only two people that will never be yours. you wait and wait but nothing comes. instead, you feel someone’s knuckles brushing lightly against yours and gasp, opening your eyes. what you didn’t expect to see is your two best friends looking at you as if they are seeing you for the first time, their lips stretch in smiles so wide, it looks like it’s supposed to hurt. and eyes, their eyes, say so much without them needing to say anything at all.

“so… what you’re saying is that we’ve been blue balling each other since we were 16?”

“ohmygodsatorupleasestop,” words leave your mouth all jumbled up, you’re sure they didn’t understand what you said. gojo might be a little crude but the meaning behind his childish metaphor is not lost on you – three of you have been oblivious to each other’s feelings for five years now, and a pang of regret shoots through you. how different would everything be if you were brave enough to confess all those years ago?

“have both of you really known since you were 16?”

“yes.”

both of them say it with such conviction, you feel yourself get lightheaded. you don’t want to cry but tears are pooling in your eyes involuntarily, and you sniff a little into satoru’s shoulder.

“aw, why are you crying? i thought we all finally agreed to be happy,” suguru coos at you from the side. the warmth of your hand in his still feels unreal – like it’s someone else’s arm attached to him, and he‘s just observing as a passer-by. he brushes your knuckles with the pads of his fingers and it feels right, how your digits perfectly intervene with his and how your head fits just right into the crook of satoru’s neck, and how your lips look so perfectly kissable and shiny right now. but he doesn’t want to rush the fragility of the moment, so he only squeezes your hand tighter.

“because we could’ve had this all this time… if we were just a little braver.”

“don’t you think we are already brave enough, all the time?” satoru asks this time. “maybe it’s okay for us to be a little cowardly, even if it’s not entirely good for us. we have next memory to look forward to anyways.” gojo lifts your head and looks into your teary eyes – you’re so beautiful, it almost hurts. he let his daydreams to be full of you and your lips and your touch, that it takes everything in him not to cross the distance in a searing kiss. but he knows it’s not the right moment, so he just swipes your tears away and kisses you on the forehead. behind you, you can feel suguru’s lips gently touch your exposed shoulder.

and just like that, all worries dissipate like sand through the cracks between fingers. what is the point of worrying about the past when you have future full of love in front of you? you don’t know what tomorrow holds for three of you with your souls now bare for each other, but you have the time to discover it together. for now, you’re content with this moment, salty ocean breeze dancing on your skin, the warmth of suguru’s palm in yours and satoru’s shoulder lulling you to sleep, and you think that maybe you’ve always meant to end up here, between them.

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 1 year

Text

Pregnancy Dramas

—Things you faced when you were carrying their child

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Fyodor, Kunikida X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Mainly Humor

Format: Drabble

Warnings: Pregnancy, Pregnancy problems, Cravings, etc

Word Count: 1.4k

↳Osamu Dazai

If anyone had told Dazai that he would eventually settle down with someone, he would have merely laughed at them; but there he was, standing next to the infirmary bed while looking at you, his beloved wife, who was carrying his baby.

You were now three months pregnant, your belly shaped into a cute bump. You both agreed to not know about the gender of your baby till it finally arrives, therefor, whenever you went to a sonography you only asked the doctor if the baby was ok and refused to gain any more information. You were feeling sick a while ago so Dazai hurried to the hospital to show you to a doctor, and now you were waiting for the result.

The doctor smiled at Dazai's worried face and put the sonography results on the desk. "You're very attentive toward your wife's health condition, but these kind of problems are common during pregnancy. I'll give you some medicine to kill the pain, though I assure you, all four of them are fine"

"Thank you so much, doc—"

You suddenly froze. Looking at your husband and catching a glimpse of his shocked face, you turned your face toward the doctor. "How... How many?"

"Ah, you're carrying triplets, right?"

Shit.

"T-there has to be some kind of mistake, sir" You were now stuttering over your words and Dazai was still silently staring at the doctor with the same expression. "I mean we didn't want to know anything about our baby until it's born but— TRIPLETS? MY FUCKING VAGINA IS GOING TO EXPLODE!"

"I'll... give you a minute..."

As the doctor left the room, you covered your mouth with your hand. "Aren't you going to say something...?"

"I... guess we'll have to ask Kunikida to be the godfather..."

"So that we raise the kids with his money?"

"Yeah"

"Well, sounds like a plan"

↳Chuuya Nakahara

"Sob* this cake is sob* delicious..."

Chuuya had always had a hard time understanding people around him since they were all a bunch of weirdos, and ever since you showed him the result of your pregnancy test, he couldn't really get you either.

"Yeah... I would have believed you if you weren't crying while eating it" He shook his head with disappointment as he reached for the cake tray, but you snatched it away and shot him a threatening look. "DON'T YOU DARE EAT MY CAKES. THEY'RE ALL MINE!"

"Ok ok, geez..."

"WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

"Nothing! Eat your cakes!"

"Don't tell me what to do! I eat my cakes whenever I want to!"

"Do whatever you want y/n"

You shoved the rest of the cakes in your mouth, and your sobs got even louder. "I'm sob* gonna get nom nom* fat... Waaaa this is so tasty... sob*"

Chuuya thought of leaving the room, but that could make you even angrier.

"It's all your fault that I'm fat since you're the one who got me pregnant in the first place!"

"I'm not complaining baby doll, you look even prettier like this..."

"SO NOW YOU WANT ME TO BE FAT?"

"My god that's not what I fucking meant!"

During these few months, you had become overly sensitive and moody. He really was the one to blame— Chuuya did knew that; but sometimes he lost control and snapped out, like now. Though the second he saw your teary eyes, he sighed and leaned to plant a kiss on your cheek. "I'm sorry honey... What can I do to make you feel better?"

"...More cakes please?"

↳Fyodor Dostoevsky

You were lying on the couch and Fyodor was sitting on the floor with his head on your belly, wearing a soft smile that made your heart flutter. He had become extra sweet with you since the day you got pregnant, so despite all the pain and trouble you were going through, you didn't want these days to be over.

"Are you sure she's going to kick?" he held your hand gently and lightly kissed your palm.

"Positive. I mean, I kinda have the feeling... You know, motherly instinct and stuff..."

"Then I shall wait a little longer" He closed his eyes and started stroking your hand with his thumb. You couldn't help but to reach out for his cheek with your free hand to caress it, and you almost died when he leaned to your touch.

"Fedya..." "I love you too, my darling"

Then it happened.

A light kick indirectly hitting his head, announcing her presence to her daddy.

Fyodor smiled, a dazzling one that was rare and charming to the eye, and looked at your belly. "My... Our baby is a wild one. That was one aggressive kick"

"I'm sure she's just impatient" Giggling softly, you patted your belly. "She's not aggressive, she only wants to arrive soon. Our baby will be an angel"

"She will be; she takes after her mother, after all"

You closed your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressed against your forehead, thankful for your lovely family. You went through a lot to get to this moment, but you could never regret it even one bit. Not when you have Fyodor, and your soon-to-be-born baby.

↳Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

Safe and sound sleeps had always been a stranger to Akutagawa. Growing up in the slums, he had to sleep with his eyes open so that he would be ready when a threat came along; and even though he was not living in the slums anymore, he still couldn't get much of a sleep.

You wouldn't let him.

"Ryuu" You shook him lightly, watching as his nose scrunched up with annoyance. He seemed put out and he didn't even open his eyes, talking to you with a low, husky voice. "What?"

"I want fried chicken"

You observed him as his eyes shot open and stared at your serious face with disbelief. He looked kind of shocked, and you wondered if he was familiar with the term "Craving".

"Y/n it's 4am" He sounded unsure. "All of the stores have closed by now"

"I'm pregnant with a seven months old baby Ryuunosuke, I don't care if it's 4am"

"Well I'm not going out right now either" He closed his eyes again, trying to go back to sleep; but your sudden remark suddenly sobered him up.

"Fine then, I guess I'll just have to eat you instead of the chicken"

Your tone was not humorous, nor it was threatening. It was more like you were announcing your next steps if you don't get your way.

"I don't think I'm enough to satisfy you. I'm all bones, barely any flesh"

"Then I'll eat your sister. She's not as skinny as you. She's living next door, isn't she?"

Looking at you again, Akutagawa searched for a hint of humor in your eyes to confirm that you were joking; but all he saw was a dangerous gaze, shooting out of a hungry, pregnant woman's vicious eyes.

"...I'll go get my coat"

↳Doppo Kunikida

"Y/n? Where are you?"

Hearing your husbands voice, you get up and exit the bedroom to greet him at the front door of your apartment. You announced your pregnancy to him last night, making him thrilled to bits. After celebrating with you, he had started planning out the ideal schedule for the nine months ahead. He had left you hours ago to go shopping for necessary items, and now he was finally back.

"Welcome home, Anata" You pecked him on the cheek. "So? What did you buy? Lemme see them"

The blonde smiled and took your hand, dragging you inside the living room to sit on the couch. He then started taking his purchases out of the shopping bags, explaining about them with slight excitement.

"This is a medicine to help you stop vomiting, this device is baby sleep that would inform us when the baby wakes up in it's room, and these are some clothes that I bought for the baby. I tried to buy neutral clothes since we still don't know the gender of our baby"

"Oh Doppo, I think it's still too soon to buy some of these" You chuckled and took the small shirt to have a better look of it. Its small size made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You were having a baby that probably looked like your husband. You finally had a family of your own. Nothing could stop you from being happy. Nothing...

"And these are for when your body gets bigger"

You looked at the pregnancy pants in his hands. "When my body gets bigger?"

"Yes"

NOTHING CAN STOP YOU FROM BEING HAPPY.

"Your ankles are gonna swell, your breast are gonna get bigger, even your face might get a bit out of shape in the last month. Your cheeks might bloat as well too. There will also be stretch marks on your belly, and your vagina might dilate if you choose not to have a caesarean... ARE THOSE TEARS IN YOUR EYES??"

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frogchiro · 8 months

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slasher!graves with muscular, but fluffy dad bod 😞😞 like, he’s in his mid forties, his body no longer like it was in his twenties but it just got a little fluff to it!!

his flannels are fitted well for his built arms, and when they’re tucked into his wrangler jeans, his soft tummy is even more noticeable :((

Fluffy dad bods are something else I swear :(( And yes you're so right!! This is literally Slasher Graves!!

He may sometimes grumble and growl that his flannels are tight across his chest and tummy but it all gets forgotten when he catches you numerous times peeking at him whenever he is without his shirt as he was carrying hay bales or wood. Not to mention how he sometimes teases you that you're 'fattening him up' whenever you bring him cookies or a fresh cake you baked and you're left all flustered and whiny that you'd never do such a thing :((

Sure, he still sometimes mourns that he isn't as fit and well build like he was when he was 25, but ultimately he realizes that it only gives him a more mature and refined look, not to mention a sign of good health and strength, that means perfect material for fathering your baby!♡

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #slasher graves has the meanest breeding kink ever #slasher!Graves #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves

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devildomsoup · 1 year

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Silly little headcanons #1

Lucifer

Definitely has a favourite pen and everyone dreads the day he will have to change it.

He once shrunk Cerberus and carried him around in a handbag because he had to go to the vet.

Joint pains (no, I will not elaborate)

Has a picture in his wallet of his brothers and MC. Luke is also there for some reason.

Mammon

Will turn off the lights and walk out of his room. Walks back a few moments later to check if he remembered to turn the lights off.

Boops his younger brothers on the nose when he says goodnight.

Considered dying his hair piss yellow at some point.

He swears that Luke is just an annoying little chihuahua that he doesn't care about. But the pictures of him accompanying Luke to the cinema suggest otherwise.

Leviathan

He forgets to throw out socks with holes in them. So sometimes he will just walk around with socks that are barely holding on.

Has a controller that only MC is allowed to use. He will not even use it himself.

Can touch his nose with his tongue

Accidentally called his brothers "Ruri" on multiple occasions.

Satan

Has an album on his phone with pictures of him and Lucifer. Will deny it if you ask him.

Once cursed the entirety of Lucifer's record collection. The curse in question made it so the only song on any of the records was Baby Shark.

When he wants MC's attention he will go "pspspsps."

Satan has put on his blue jacket normally a grand total of 6 times.

Asmodeus

Will wear heels with just about anything. Yes, that includes sweatpants.

A lesser demon once found out about MC's deepest insecurity and started using it to insult them. Asmodeus found out and sent the demon flying through a wall.

He either sneezes like a cat or like an old man. There is no in-between.

He reminds everyone in HoL to drink water and will make sure they do so one way or another.

Beelzebub

Not allowed to be alone in RAD's art supply room. He will eat the paint if left unattended.

He only had 4 shirts until Asmodeus forced him to get more.

Takes Luke with him around RAD when Simeon can't. Also scared of any demon that looks at Luke the wrong way.

He has carried every single one of his brothers to bed more than once. Lucifer is no exception.

Belphegor

Follows the cat rule. If it fits I sits.

Don't tell anyone but his favourite blanket is the jackets of his older brothers.

Will sometimes force people to take a nap with him. Does someone look tired boom it's nap time.

Pops his back really loudly whenever he wakes up

Simeon

Will show anyone and I mean anyone pictures of Luke like a proud father.

Got scammed once and now he's afraid of opening links.

He once accompanied Beel to a workout and ended up destroying a punching bag.

Do not under any circumstances let him be alone in the candle section of a store. Purgatory Hall already has a closet full of them.

Raphael

Tried to kill a fly with one of his spears.

When asked if he wanted anything special for his birthday he requested a cake made by Solomon.

Enjoys watching butterflies flutter around. He will stand absolutely still if one lands on him and stay like that until the butterfly leaves again.

Wins every staring contest.

Luke

Has gotten lost in stores, parks and RAD so many times that he now has a bracelet with the contact info of Simeon and Barbatos. Even though he has his own D.D.D.

Mimics Simeon and Raphael to appear like a mature angel.

He will never admit it but he makes drawings for the brothers.

Luke and MC have a secret handshake.

Solomon

Immune to the pain of stepping on a lego.

Once accidentally turned himself into a rat and nearly got murdered by Barbatos.

Enjoys watching romcoms with MC.

Can and will randomly appear in MC's room tell them a horrible joke and then vanish into thin air.

Thirteen

She has the most random things in her pocket. Watch her pull out a porcelain frog from one of her pockets.

She had a buzz cut at some point.

Will drag you out of bed in the middle of the night so you can test her new inventions.

Loves playing with people's hair. It doesn't matter what texture or length it is. Just let her play with it.

Diavolo

Has a rubber duck collection.

Was introduced to vocaloid and now he won't stop singing World is Mine.

Gives the best hugs. 10/10 would hug again.

Buys Barbatos flowers every week to show his appreciation.

Barbatos

Knows how to tap dance.

Let's MC call him Barbie.

He receives small trinkets from the Little Ds.

Will cradle MC like a little baby when he is stressed or just missed them.

Mephistopheles

He enjoys soup.

He says he hates hugs. But in reality, he might even shed a few tears if you hug him.

A master of building card houses.

Once took care of a bat until it was healthy enough to live on its own.

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braxlrose · 9 months

Text

childhood friends to lovers

tom x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (m and f!recieving), risky sex, hickies, etc.

• after you woke up in toms arms, he was awake. brushing his fingers through your hair and humming to you. you just stared up at him, while he was smiling at you.

• let's just say it ended up in some very intimate kissing. after that, you two became official. the fan girls were extremely upset, and you almost got jumped a couple times but Tom basically goes everywhere with you, so it wasn't a problem.

• toms relationship with you is very different from the relationship he had with other girls. you got to see sides of him that fangirls didn't get to see.

• tom got your name tattooed on his hands, something about "whenever I'm playing guitar, I'll think of you, blah blah blah." it was cute though

• when you two were just friends, he would go to the store and buy you pads/tampons. but now that he's your boyfriend. he goes ALL out. pads, tampons, chocolate, soda, chips, heating pad, rice sock, fast food. literally whatever you want, he will get it.

• makes you sandwiches all the time but it can be a 50/50 kind of thing. sometimes they're absolutely delicious and other times they're just disgusting 💀💀

• on stage, if you're doing a solo, he'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck. basically doing anything to tease the living he'll out of you.

• he tones out the flirting with fangirls because he doesn't want to make you feel bad and he just doesn't feel the need to do it anymore. he's totally infatuated with you now.

• you guys go schwimming together at pools and he puts you on his shoulders and schwims around.

• he carries you on his shoulders around set whenever you want. he also enjoys it because he can feel your "warmth" 😟

• is always holding your hand. he loves how much smaller your hand is and how it fits perfectly in his.

• I don't remember where I heard this, so I might be wrong. but I remember hearing something about tom liking taller girls (Heidi is 5'9 so) but he loves that he doesn't have to break his back just to kiss you.

• he tried to make you a cake for your birthday and actually did it. it looked awful, but it tasted amazing. plus it's the thought that counts 🥺

• you two give eachother massages all the time but toms a little shit and will make the timer go faster so your massage is way quicker than his 😒 like this but without Monica's horrible massage 😭

• buys you lingerie sets in your favorite colors and sits on your bed as you try them on for him

• bakes with you all the time and has so much fun. cookies, cakes, muffins, cupcakes. you guys make georg, gustav and bill try out everything you make.

• you guys have sex at least once a day if you're both into it. doesn't matter where bc he likes risk. closet, on set, in a public bathroom. literally almost anywhere. idk if this is true but tom once got caught doing on a train by his mom 😭

• he's more of a receiver than a giver but he still loves going down on you. but he can't help it that your blow jobs feel so fucking good. but he's a good boyfriend, so if you guys have time he'll go down on you after you've sucked him off.

• you guys have gotten caught having sex by georg, gustav and bill so many times you can't even count it on your fingers. there also have been times where tom doesn't stop fucking you even if they walk in.

• he's fingered you until the table before during interviews and finds it hilarious watching you try and hide your facial expressions. plus he can't go to fast or else everything will hear

• after sex, you basically have hickies everywhere. on your legs, thighs, stomach, back, ass, boobs, neck, E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E.

• tom is a boobs and ass guy. he loves leaving hickies on both of them and would suck on your tits all day if you could.

• he loves doggy style because he gets to watch your back arch and slap your ass. he always has one of his hands on your hip and the other rubbing harsh figure eights on your clit. he'll also pull at your hair and lean down to whisper dirty things in your ear.

• tom isn't a switch at all, even though some people think he is. which is why it's super hard for me to write sub tom. because he is a dom all the way. even when he isn't on top, he's always in control.

• he loves how sexy you look on top of him riding him. he's super fucking cocky, so he has his hands folded behind his head and is just laying there watching you bounce up and down on his cock.

• he'll only move his hands if he sees you faltering and you need help. but even then, he makes you beg for his help.

• but once you do, hid hands will be gripped to your hips and he's sat up now pulling you up and down his cock.

• he will face fuck you whenever you give him a blow job if you aren't going fast enough. bonus points if you don't have a gag reflex and then he can just feel his cock sliding down your throat with ease. (also am I the only one who gets extremely turned off by gagging? like the sound of it is totally gross idk why guys are turned on by it)

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles-deacti @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz @victryzvv9 @banshailey

@mikalame heres pt 2 for the dating hcs!

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fanfics #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz tokio hotel #tokio hotel tom kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #fluff #smut #tokio hotel edits #tokio hotel fanfics #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel tom kaulitz smut

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pacifymebby · 5 months

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What would each peaky boy be like with a wife who owns a bakery, one who pops round to meetings with fresh cakes and treats and stuff

This is a really cute request and really feeds my dream of having a bakery one day

Tommy

🌿 your bakery is quite small and easy to miss but once Tommy knows it's there tucked down a side street, pretty much just a hatch in the wall, he never goes a day without visiting

🌿 Always, no matter how busy he is, will take the time to stop by even if only for a second or two to say hello and pick up something to eat. You think he must really love your baking and he does think your breads the best he's ever had however, that's not the reason he stops by every day.

🌿 You'd joke about how he's going to eat you out of heart and home if he carries on like this and he'd very simply say, "Marry me love, then I won't have to will I..." Of course he's only teasing but the blush it paints on your cheeks is priceless and well, he does often wonder what it would be like to marry you.. no harm in putting the idea in your head.

🌿 He says the same thing every time you tease him for stopping by, which you do at least three times a week. It isn't that you're ungrateful for the business it's that you don't understand how a man as busy as Tommy Shelby has time to visit your little bakery every day and you don't understand why he'd want to.

🌿 this little routine, you teasing him, him making that joke, you blushing and going shy, carries on for months and months, it drags on so long that all your friends are certain he's not really joking, that perhaps Birmingham's most infamous has taken a liking to more than just your bread.

🌿 One day when he says it you smile, "if you keep saying that Mr Shelby one day I might just take you seriously..." And he pauses, mouth caught in a half smile, hands in his pockets as causal as you like he looks you up and down to work out whether you're teasing him. "And what would you say if you did?"

🌿 When you're married he'd help you set up a bigger bakery, hires you staff to help you run it, but you always keep your little shop too because that hatch in the wall holds a special place in both your hearts.

🌿 Whenever you think up a new recipe or you're experimenting with new flavours Tommy makes sure to be interested in what you're doing, listening to you when you tell him about your troubles "Thing is I don't know if it's salt I need, to bring out the sweetness, or if I'm just not using enough sugar and then there's the trouble with the Cherry jam it's too... Too..." "Jammy?" He'd tease, "wait no, too cherry flavoured eh, that it love?"

🌿 will be the first to try anything new recipe you've baked and will always give you an honest answer, unless somethings truly awful, then he won't tell you quite how bad it is because he doesn't want to break your heart.

🌿 He will try anything and everything you put in front of him but he has to admit his favourites are the more savoury treats you bake, anything with cheese is an instant hit with Tommy and sometimes, when he's had one of those weeks where he's stressed out, hardly eating at all, living off coffee whiskey and cigarettes, one of your cheese buns is the only thing that can tempt him to take his spectacles off for a moment, come out of his head and back down to earth, back to you.

🌿 Whenever there's a family meeting you always want to use it to get opinions on your baking so any new recipes are prepared specially for the family and you get in a real huff if anyone refuses to try your food... And Tommy always warns them in advance, threatening his brothers to "be fuckin nice yeah, try the cakes, be fuckin nice eh?"

🌿 Sometimes he brings Charlie into the bakery to see you and when you can tell that Tommy's particularly stressed you offer to take care of the young boy. He enjoys baking with you, making a mess with all the flour and sugar. He's your number one taste tester and every time he's in you get him to pick his favourite so that you can advertise whichever items he recommends as "recommended by little Charlie Shelby"

🌿 It sort of turns you into a bit of s matriarch within the family. Whenever anyone's having a party, whenever there's a birthday to prepare for, you're always kept busy baking cakes and sweet treats for the whole family. And when Charlie tells his cousins about the fun he has at the bakery they all want a turn decorating cakes and iced buns with you...

🌿 Tommy definitely falls in love with you a little more every time he drops into your little bakery in the late afternoon to pick his son up, to come face to face with your flour dusted features and your bright smile, watching you suck a little icing from your fingertip to test the sweetness.

🌿 He will almost always catch your hip in his hand, look down at you with longing in his eyes and murmur something sweet like "give us a try of that eh love..." sucking the icing straight from your pinky.

Alfie

🐻 Alfie has been coming to your bakery for a very long time, he remembers when your mother used to run things, remembers her Challah recipe by heart.

🐻 He would often turn up early in the morning before you were open, let himself in anyway and lean, white sleeves pushed up to the elbows against the counter waiting for you to turn up. "Thought you might fancy a little company this mornin miss y/l/n..." The first time he shows you're shocked and you can't hide it. You know he's infamous, a violent criminal who promises nothing but trouble... but you also know he's the baker of Camden town and that your mother was always quite fond of him...

🐻 So you can't turn him down. Not that anyone in their right mind would turn Alfie Solomons down...

🐻 You spend lots of time baking together in that kitchen, it's Alfie's favourite place to be, holed up cosy amid the yeasty smell of baking bread and the sweet scent of fresh pastries. He enjoys your company, enjoys getting close to you, using excuses such as "y'see ziskeit your problem yeahs, that you ain't leanin into it enough, you've gotta kneed with your whole body right, like this..." standing behind you, arms around your waist, kneeding the dough for you with you trapped between him and the counter watching him work.

🐻 You also have lots of little tiffs in the kitchen, him winding you up by putting things away in the wrong places or reorganising cupboards and shelves so that you don't know where any of your belongings are. Him getting tetchy with you when you insist you know a better recipe for something than he does.

🐻 However despite your tiffs Alfie never lets you talk yourself down... Whenever you have a new idea he's always quick to tell you you're a genius. Always calling you the cleverest girl in Camden town, always dramatically complimenting you. Even if something goes wrong, even if a cake isn't perfect or the bread you've baked doesn't quite rise properly he will hush any of your complaints with one finger to your lips, that contemplative frown on his brow

🐻 "Now just you mind what you're about to say yeah my little ziskeit, just you be very careful what words come out that pretty little mouth of yours next yeah because I've got somethin to say right... I've got something to say... This here yeah, it's bread right but... It don't feel right just calling it bread yeah, cause this here ain't any old bread, this bread right it's a fuckin work of art my little ziskeit, this bread right, it's a masterpiece, one of them modern wonders of the fuckin world right... So just you think very carefully yeah about what you're about to say..."

🐻 "Cause I won't put up with no bread slander today right, I've made up my mind and I just won't tolerate it..."

🐻 You teaching him how to delicately decorate cakes and pastries with ornate little designs. Him getting frustrated because his hands are too big and his fingers are a little too clumsy to master the finer details. You hugging him, kissing his cheek when you reassure him that his gingerbread men aren't "fackin elephant man ugly"

🐻 Your flower stained blush mirroring his flower stained blush when you both realise what you've just done.

🐻 When he's busy working all he wants is a visit from you and he always hopes you'll come down with something from the bakery. He literally sits there in his office pining for you and your "delights" as he calls them, and sometimes when you're late or you can't visit he sits there getting more and more grumpy, poor Ollie has to try and lighten the mood but just gets grumbled at.

🐻 And when you do come to visit Alfie at work he gets jealous when you bring stuff for the workers too and he chides you for "spoiling" them. He only does this because he loves the cheeky smile you give him as you sit down in his lap and offer him something sweet to try, "Don't worry Alfie I didn't forget about you..."

🐻 When he flees to Margate you open a bakery together on the seafront, he tends to hide away in the kitchen getting jealous when local boys come in and flirt with you, occasionally when he's feeling particularly protective he'll come out to spook them.

🐻 but for the most part that little bakery on the sea front is your own little slice of heaven, back in London he'd fed you the idea whenever you were getting worried about him and his business. Whenever you started to fear he was in too deep, making too much trouble for himself.

🐻 And now he's finally made good on that promise to you. It's just you, him and Cyril living a peaceful life together in Margate. The smell of freshly baked bread in the mornings, spending evenings together preparing the dough for the next day's batches.

🐻 You've definitely thrown a handful of flower at him multiple times, definitely "pied" him at least once for being a grumpy old martyr.

🐻 He's definitely given you that look, beckoned you over and instructed you to "clean up your mess now ziskeit, reckon you've had your fun with the fuckin creme patissiere..."

🐻 Scoops up said creme patissiere with his two fingers and feeds it to you, won't smile until your lips are closed round his fingers, your eyes locked with his.

Arthur

🍂 Sorry Arthur bby but...

🍂 I feel like he's a really messy eater, like he chews really gross and definitely talks with his mouth full... Crumbs everywhere, always spilling cream or jam down his shirt...

🍂 Which means you have to instruct him on how to eat your cakes and usually clean him up afterwards too. You have to break a piece of cake off for him and place some in his mouth giving him instructions "right close and chew..."

🍂 But no sooner has he closed his mouth and begun to chew is he forgetting himself again, opening his mouth to tell you how fucking lovely it is and you'd have to hush him up.

🍂 "Fuck me darlin this is fuckin delicious, fuckin heavenly..." he starts getting crumbs everywhere, you're watching exasperated but endeared all the same as he gets crumbs all over the floor and himself. You know there's nothing you can do about this.

🍂 You can't help laugh at him, he's so daft sometimes, doesn't seem to have any idea how funny he looks... But you get a cloth and wipe the cream from his mustache, giggling at him, him chuckling along too when he realises what he's done.

🍂 "Sorry love I can't help it, they taste so good I forget me manners..." "Excuses, excuses.." you tut only teasing him. He actually blushes.

🍂 Arthur loves your baking so much that whenever there's a family meeting he all but insists you bring sweet treats along for everyone.

🍂 "Please darlin I'm beggin you, how are we gonna survive Tommy's fuckin speeches without somethin to eat... He'll have us in there all night with nothin to eat... We'll starve if you don't bring us somethin sweet to eat..." he's so dramatic but you always comply, just rolling your eyes and teasing him. "God Arthur anyone would think you haven't just eaten five of these..." You grin packing tins full of pastries to take with you...

🍂 But he can't help it, he loves your baking and he loves you, thinks the sun shines out of you and your gifted hands so he wants to show off his talented girl and her delicious creations... Upon arriving he will very loudly announce that everyone needs to "fuckin shut up and listen to my Y/N cause she's brought everyone some new cakes to try and they're fuckin delicious..."

🍂 He'll make everyone try one, even Tommy and he'll glare at his brother until he says something nice about your baking.

🍂 "We're fuckin blessed right, to have such a fuckin talented baker in the family..."

🍂 You try to teach him to bake but honestly, he's clumsy, he makes a mess, he can't concentrate on the recipe because he's standing close to you and instead of having his hands in the mixing bowl he just keeps trying to grab you and hug you, can't keep his hands or his lips off you for long enough to get through even the most simple of cookie recipes.

🍂 Honestly if ever you've got something important to bake, a wedding or birthday cake, new stock for the shop you have to lock him out of the kitchen until you're done because he's too much of a distraction.

🍂 You have the fear whenever you're working on something delicate, you have to put signs on the doors reminding Arthur not to slam the doors when he comes home. When you hear him coming you brace yourself, hovering round your delicate creation, wincing when he forgets about not slamming the door.

🍂 "Arthur please my love!" "I know I know I'm sorry sweetheart I'll be careful" he says hands in the air all surrender and sweet, making an effort to tip toe and be careful, forgetting three seconds later much to your despair.

John

🌼 John gives me low-key earth sign vibes, not sun sign earth sign vibes but something else, like a moon perhaps? Anyway my point with that is that John definitely has a love of home comforts, mundane, little luxuries... He likes being spoiled with sweet treats. Likes coming home to find you baking with the little ones.

🌼 I mean he really loves it... There's nothing better than finishing a long day at the betting shop surrounded by drunk, rowdy men, to stop by the bakery on his way home only to find one of his children behind the counter, standing on a stool to help you serve customers. He can hear his other kids giggling in the kitchen and he practically jumps over the counter in excitement to see them and all the mischief they're getting up to whilst your backs turned.

🌼 Him asking for one of your finest cakes, and then when Katy holds her hand out to take his money he grins and says "Well y'see kitty my little love, I spent my last penny on flowers for your mammy so Daddy was hoping he could pay with a kiss eh?"

🌼 When she agrees she's very cheeky, she sighs dramatically and says "fine but just this once..." and when he scoops her up and kisses her cheek about to take the cake from her hand she holds it back and says "one more for mammy."

🌼 So he slips behind the counter and slinks his arm around your waist pulling you away from your work to give you a very dragged out, much needed kiss. The kind he really shouldn't be giving you in front of the customers... Not when there's a queue.

🌼 You shoo him away so that you can get back to work telling him to go and sort his little hellraisers out in the kitchen.

🌼 But John doesn't want you to "get back to work" and so once he's rounded the terrors up and helped them clean up their mess in the kitchen he's right back ar your side, gruffly announcing to the line of customers that the bakeries closed and it's time to go home. Each and every one of your attempts at protest is silenced with a kiss and when you open your mouth to argue with him about it again he takes one of the cakes from the counter and puts it in your mouth to silence you so that in your shock there's nothing for you to do but take a bite, chew and cover your mouth to hide your messy giggle.

🌼 "Can't bloody believe you John Shelby! You're a bloody n..." "Irresistible, devilishly handsome, doting husband? I know love you don't need to tell me..." he teases taking the cake from your hands and helping himself to a bite. "Come along flower, we're all waiting for you, we wanna go home..."

🌼 And when faced with John and the wide doe eyes of all your little ones looking like angels now that dad's come and got them into shape... Well you can hardly refuse them.

🌼 Uses "Teach me how to bake love..." as a premise to get some time with you whilst you're working, his minds really not on baking though he is thinking of putting one in the oven...

🌼 At least one of your children have been conceived in that kitchen...

🌼 When you bring the children with you to family meetings so they can give everyone the cupcakes they made, John gives his brothers warning looks like "you will eat these very girly lookin cupcakes and you will tell my girls they're the best thing you've ever eaten!" he makes a big song and dance of telling everyone how amazing they taste.

🌼 Has started food fights in the kitchen with the kids. Has started food fights with his brothers at family meetings because he wasn't satisfied with Tommy's "wow Katy these are really good..."

🌼 Has definitely defused an argument with you by putting a handful of batter in your hand and instructing you to throw it at him. "C'mon flower, you're pissed off with me ain't you, fuckin throw it if you think I deserve it..." then being shocked and a little bit wounded when you actually do throw it... Arms around you immediately play wrestling with you to get his revenge.

🌼 And this usually ends up with the two of you kissing, wiping cake mix from one another's faces, closing the kitchen door so that your customers can't hear how you really resolve a fight...

🌼 Always making special requests, his favourite things you bake are your berry pies and he gets such a huff on when you inform him that you can't make anymore because the berries in question are out of season anymore. "Fuck the seasons.." gets genuinely cross he can't peaky blinder style intimidate the literal seasons.

Bonnie

🍀 It's unsurprising that Bonnie has quite the appetite considering a) he's a growing lad, and b) he's a boxer, always training, always exhausting himself in the ring...

🍀And yet once he finds your bakery, he's never too tired to stop in after a long day training, and you can't deny you don't look forward to seeing that oh so slightly mischievous smile every evening... so much so that sometimes you stay open just waiting for him to drop by.

🍀 He's always very sweet to you, always leans on the counter chatting away to you whilst he eats the sweet buns you save especially for him... It takes him a little while to realise that's what you're doing but when he works it out, that you hold treats back for him and you even stay open a little later waiting just for him he becomes a butterfly filled mess. Feels really proud, starts cheekily calling you things like "my favourite girl"

🍀then he starts stopping in early too, gets up at the crack of dawn just so he can drop by your bakery on his way to the boxing gym. He uses the excuse that he's hungry, that he needs to fuel himself up for the day but really it's because he wants to see more of you. Wants to get you alone.

🍀He joins you in the kitchen, sometimes helping you out, sometimes just sitting on the counter admiring you whilst you work, being a pest getting his fingers in the jam, pinching the strawberries you've carefully halved to top your pastries.

🍀 You're constantly swatting his hands away and threatening to kick him out but by now you both know you never will. That little crush you thought you might have on the young boxer has flourished and you wake up every morning looking forward to seeing him. In the hours between him leaving in the morning and returning to you after training your little bakery feels so empty and lonely without him.

🍀When he pinches some cherries from the top of one of your pies you gasp in frustration about to give him a scolding but when he sees you, your cheeks flushed that glow of annoyance in your eyes he can't help chuckling at you, telling you he's sorry, saying "c'mere dove, I'll share..." youre about to refuse when you catch the pining look in his eyes, the way he looks at you with such a quiet pining... it lights sparks inside you, leaves your heart racing, makes you feel very forgiving.

🍀So you give in and roll your eyes, say fine, come on share then... and though you expect him to place a cherry in your palm instead he plucks one from the stem and pushes it to your lips, watching you breathlessly as you take it in your mouth and sink your teeth into it. A little juice escapes your mouth and stains your lips and the corner of your mouth deep, sweet red.

🍀And he leans in without even thinking about it, kisses the corner of your mouth to catch the juice before it can trickle further and make a mess of your pretty face.

🍀You don't get much baking done after that and the cherry pie youd been labouring over is left forgotten about on the side whilst you and Bonnie get thoroughly lost in eachother.

🍀From then on Bonnie stops in on you twice a day every day, he walks you to and from the bakery morning and night and quite often makes up excuses to bring you back to the caravans at night. The first time you meet his family you're so nervous, wanting to impress them, the way Bonnie's been spending all his time outside the gym "elsewhere" people have begun to talk and so everyone is curious to meet the girl who has stolen his heart.

🍀You bake plenty of delicious buns and breads to gift them trying to make a good first impression and Bonnie is insistent that you really shouldn't have done, that they'll love you regardless of whether you bribe them with food, but secretly he just wants to keep you and your baked goods all to himself. "If everyone knows how good these are they'll all be coming here and then there'll be none left for me!" He says taking another bite from his second cinnamon bun of the afternoon.

🍀He stops talking however when you catch the stray icing hes got on his cheek and suck it off your finger, "Don't be daft Bonnie, I'll always save enough for you."

🍀He goes foraging for berries and fruits, always bringing you wild herbs he's picked that he thinks you'll be able to do something good with, sprigs of lavender and such to weave into your more intricate designs. His favourite thing however is to convince you to close up shop for the day and go foraging with him, taking you out into the country on the back of his pony, showing you all the best places to find your favourite herbs and flowers.

🍀 Pulling you down into the long grass beneath the trees, cradling you in his lap after a long walk, smothering you in kisses and affection.

Isaiah

🐀 Being the quiet, earthy homebody that you are you're not exactly Isaiah's type. He wouldn't even have met you had it not been for Michael dragging him out to your bakery one morning, insisting that you bake the best pastries in town.

🐀 And at first Isaiah is cynical, "fuckin pastries for breakfast are you soft lad, you eat fuckin pastries for breakfast... Them toffs who raised you really mess with your head didn't..." he's still taking the piss out of Michael when they walk into your bakery but one look at you steals the end of his sentence straight from his lips.

🐀 Because even with a light dusting of flour over your nose, your cheeks rosy from the heat of the oven, stray hairs escaping your pretty little hair scarf, he thinks youre the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on and suddenly he's swallowing all his snide remarks.

🐀 and suddenly he's a little embarrassed, a little uncertain of himself because he's realised he's out of his depth when he wants to charm you. You're so different from the other girls in his life that he just doesn't know what to say to you.

🐀 "Would you like to try something sir?" You ask, your softness literally melting Isaiah. Michael is just sniggering a little smug because he'd known this would happen all along. This was his plan all along.

🐀 And then Isaiah realises that if he plays up to being clueless you will give him all the attention he desires offering for him to try different things, explaining what each item is...

🐀 You're surprised when Isaiah comes back the next day without Michael, you honestly weren't expecting to ever see him again.. it was clear to you that the bars and clubs were more his scene, that he'd choose whiskey and dancing over tea and cake anyday... But clearly Isaiah has his heart on the best of both worlds, he goes out at night with the peaky lads, raises hell and then visits you to see the soothing sight of your angel face every morning.

🐀 His curiosity impresses you though and every morning you pick something out special for him to try... You've heard what he gets up to on his Saturday nights and on Sunday morning you make sure you've got just the right cure for his sore head and jaded eyes.

🐀 Then one morning he doesn't show and you begin to worry about him, when Michael drops by you ask after his friend and though at first Michael laughs, giddy with mischievous excitement when he realises his friends been visiting the sweet little baker every morning... Then however he tells you Isaiah's in the hospital, got caught up in some unpleasant business. He doesn't tell you it's Peaky Blinders business but you know what he means...

Michael

🐀 And you're horrified to learn that the charming Peaky boy you'd grown rather fond of is hurt, so you beg Michael to take you to see Isaiah in the hospital. Michael genuinely can't hide his amusement as you busy yourself making up a basket of sweet and savoury treats for Isaiah, he's just watching you fuss over the hardened peaky lad, can't wait to rip the piss out of his friend who's clearly got an admirer.

🐀 And when you turn up at the hospital placing the basket down at Isaiah's bedside he's shocked... A little embarrassed at the way his attachment to you has been revealed so dramatically. But he's also touched, also beginning to realise how nice it is to have some consistency, how much he loves having someone so homely and comforting to take care of him.

🐀 So he invites you to stay, tells Michael to piss off and he lets you feed him one of the sweet buns you brought him. He's being extra charming, flirting with you, teasing you for your having visited him... "Anyone would think you were me girlfriend coming here an spoilin me like this darlin..."

🐀 You're speechless, you don't know what to say to him but you get very flustered and he thinks that's adorable so he puts you out of your misery very quickly, "can't say I'd mind that me like, havin you as me girlfriend... Lookin after me when I've been through the wars..." "If you want to be my boyfriend Isaiah Jesus you'll have to stop all this scrapping... I don't want to spend every Sunday in the hospital with you..."

🐀 But of course it's not the last time Isaiah winds up in the hospital and every time he does you bring him a basket of sweet treats... It makes him rather popular with the rest of the peaky boys who start dropping in on him much more often so that they can pinch treats from that basket when he isn't looking.

🐀 He asks you to teach him how to bake but much like John he can't keep his hands off you for long enough to learn. He does have quite nimble hands though and so eventually he gets very good at plaiting bread dough with you.

🐀 He's always bragging to Michael and Bonnie about you, he'll bring something from the bakery down to the Shelby offices or the boxing gym just so that he can eat it slowly taunting them about how good it is. "Ah ah boys hands off, my girl made this one just for me..."

☘️ You're so stubborn though he realises this is an argument he's not going to win so eventually he settles for a compromise. You can keep your bakery, keep your little business as long as he can be involved somehow. So he insists on helping with your accounts and being involved in the financial side of things... which you're really rather pleased about as you've never liked running the accounts, numbers aren't your friend and you find it so dull being stuck at a desk when all you want is to be in the kitchen.

☘️ Isn't happy that his girl has a job... he should be able to provide for both of you, he earns enough to spoil you rotten and yet you still insist upon working in that bakery.

☘️ But before you met Michael that bakery was your whole life, you've worked so hard to have a bakery all of your own, to have a business that belongs to you, to be able to make a living from something you love and you're not about to give that up for Michael just because he doesn't understand how much your work means to you...

☘️ And when Michael gets involved with the bakery and you begin to work at it together to grow the business you start trying to use it as a pitch to convince him to go straight, to leave his brothers corruption behind and settle for a humble but comfortable life, a safe life with you.

☘️ Of course that never works, Michael has ideas beyond his station, he likes the luxury which comes with being a gangster, he's enamoured by the glamour and fame which comes with being a Peaky Blinder...

☘️ Instead what ends up happening is that your bakery gets dragged into the Shelby business... When the lads hear about the delicious treats you bake they start coming up with excuses to hold their business meetings in your kitchen where they have access to all the delightful treats you bake fresh from the oven. But they're all so charming and Michael never lets them get up to any trouble so you grow quote fond of having them around.

☘️ You're very dedicated to your craft and Michael gets frustrated when sometimes he feels you pay more attention to bread than to him. He will tell you he's taking you out for dinner, ask you to be ready by seven and then find that you aren't even home... When he goes to find you at the bakery youre dusted head to toe in flower, nowhere near suitably dressed up to go to some fancy restaurant.

☘️ And you always look so genuine when you gasp and apologise for having lost track of time, when you start ranting about how you were just desperately trying to perfect this recipe, that you'd tried one idea and almost set fire to the kitchen so had had to start again, then you'd tried this other idea and it was almost right but not quite and that well, you really just wanted to perfect it so that you could bring it home for him to try because you wanted it to be perfect for him...

☘️ Well he thinks you're the sweetest girl in the world and he can't stay mad at you for very long. He loves that at the end of all that you were actually thinking about him all along, trying to bake the perfect treat just for him... He loves that you wanted it to be perfect for him, it makes him feel really special.

☘️ "Ah well never mind eh love," he sighs taking your cheeks in his hands to brush the flower from your face and kiss your nose, "the corrinthian can wait eh, got everything I need right here..."

☘️ He'll even try to help you with your projects sometimes even though he really doesn't like getting his hands dirty. He'll do it for you, just as long as no one else is around to see him doing some "real work"

☘️ Loves being spoilt by you, loves that you value his opinion above everyone else's. Gets a little wounded when you want to take something to a family meeting to ask everyone to try because "my opinion not good enough for you now love?"

☘️ You always have to pacify him with a kiss and a reminder that his opinion is of course the most important.

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