#And I tuck her into bed with a big glass of warm milk and an ipad with a video essay on the wyoming incident pulled up

[louloulemons-posts]

Cinderella and Warm Milk

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part One : Margot

Part Three : Cuddles and Stew

Summary : Eddies first night looking after Margot.

Word Count : 1.8k

Warnings : FLUFF. Pure family fluff. Girl dad Eddie. Minor mention of Chrissys death. Little bit of sad baby Margot. A whole lot of cuteness.

Authors note : I just wanted to say a huge thank you for all of the support on my recent fics, it’s so kind of you all. I hope you enjoy this addition to Margot, Eddie and the reader 🤍

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Hello?” A familiar voice spoke.

“Hey Wayne, is Eddie there?” you asked.

“Uh yeah he is, let me just get him for you Sweetheart.” You heard a muffled shout, “Eddie.” Wayne clearly covering the phone with his hand to save your ear.

“Hey gorgeous,” he spoke, you could hear his grin. “Hiya Eds. I’m really sorry to ask, but could you do me a huge favour?”

“Sure baby, what’s up?”

“Me and Maeve have accidentally double booked something. She’s going on a date with Annie that I refuse to let her cancel,” he hummed understanding why.

“But I can’t get out of my shift. Would you be okay to watch Margot?” Eddie went quiet on the other end. “You know what I know it’s a big ask, I’ll figure it all out-” he cut you off.

“You trust me to do that?” You laughed at that.

“Of course I do. And she loves you so much, so do I. So could you?”

“Sure I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

There was a knock on the door. “Eddie Eddie Eddie!” Margot squealed running towards it.

Chuckling, you picked up the girl, sliding the latch and pulling the door open. There he was. “Eddie!” Margot leaned forward holding out her arms to him.

“Hey Sweetheart,” he smiled, taking her from you and hugging her close. “And hello you,” he said before pecking your lips. “I can’t say thank you enough for this.”

“It’s no big deal, we’re gonna have fun right?” he asked Margot, who nuzzled into his neck and smiled.

“Well she’s had dinner, and her jammies are on the couch for her. You know where her nappies and everything are right?” you asked, to which he nodded. “Great, her bedtime is 7:30. If she doesn’t settle, warm milk and Cinderella. Her bottles are in the cupboard by the glasses. And if you need me just call-”

“Baby breath. We’ve got this. Don’t worry we will be perfectly fine. We’re gonna get into our jammies and play for a while and then, get tucked into bed. Go to work,” he pecked your lips.

“Okay okay. Margot baby, you be good for Eddie, I’ll see you in the morning,” you took her back from Eddie, cuddling her. It was the first time you’d left her with someone who wasn’t Maeve and you had to be honest you were nervous. But it was Eddie. Your Eddie. The Eddie who loved you and Margot.

“Mm’kay Mama,” she smiled, giving you a slobbery kiss to the cheek. “Okay I’ve got to run,” you gave Margot and Eddie final kisses and were on your way. “Bye Mama,” Margot waved. “Bye My Love.”

“Okay kid, jammies?” he asked, holding his hand out to the small girl. She nodded and took it. It was almost 6:30 so she must have been getting tired. He smiled seeing that you’d left her a pair of pink pyjamas with small white bunnies on, a fresh diaper, wipes and baby powder.

“You want to use the potty before we get you dressed?” She made an affirmative noise, so the pair headed to the bathroom. “You need help?” Eddie asked her.

“Pick up.” He lifted her on to her toilet seat and turned around, giving her some privacy.

“Done!” she said a few moments later. After the pair cleaned their hands they went back to the couch. Once her diaper was in place and she was comfy, he helped her step into her pyjamas pants, and slid her shirt over her head.

“There you go, nice and snug.”

“Eddie jammies?” she tilted her head slightly.

“Okay I’ll get mine on.” He paused, did he just leave her here? Did he take her with him? Was that weird? Should he stress over this? Probably not, but here he was.

She looked at him with her big eyes. “Drink pwease,” she said. Okay there’s a plan, he lifted her up and placed her into her high chair making sure she was secure. “What do you want to drink kid?”

“Juice!”

Moments later she had juice in hand, wiggling in her seat happily. “Okay Eddies just gonna get changed, you sit tight okay?”

“‘kay!” she copied.

“Okay,” he huffed, running to the bathroom, changing as fast as he could to sprint back to her.

“Jammies Eddie!” she squealed.

“Yeah kiddo,” he smiled, picking her up out of her seat. He wore a simple black tee with a pair of grey flannel pants, tying his hair back in a low ponytail. He read 7:00 on the clock. “So kid what do you want to do for the next half an hour?”

“Story!”

“Okay let’s go pick a story.”

They went over to the bookshelf in the living room, the lowest shelf full of her books. “Which one do you want?” Eddie asked, placing her on the floor. “Not these! Eddie story!” she exclaimed, as if it’s something he should have known.

“Eddies story?” she hummed and smiled up at him. “Eddie story book!” Oh! He knew what she meant now, she’d seen him reading the Hobbit in bed the last time he stayed over.

He grabbed his bag and pulled out his worn copy that Wayne had brought him not long after he moved in with him. “Come on then Kid, let me educate you on Hobbits.” She laughed at that. “What’s so funny?” he asked, unable to keep a straight face as she cackled. “Hobbits’ what’s a hobbits’?” she laughed.

“Well I’ll tell you all about them, but we have to get nice and comfy. So let’s get bunny and your dummy and have a cuddle okay?”

“‘kay,” she said still giggling a bit.

Sat comfy by Eddies side, he opened the book and began to read. “In a hole in the ground lived a hobbit.” Margot let out another laugh.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Half an hour later, Eddie closed the book and looked down at the small snoring girl next to him. Gently moving himself, he picked her up, placing her head on his shoulder, and grabbing her bunny.

Climbing the stairs, his heart melted as she snuggled into him. Laying her down carefully he clicked on her nightlight and place her bunny in her arms. “Goodnight kid, I love you.”

“Wove you Da,” she mumbled back. That had become a common thing when she was tired, she’d called him Da, or Daddy. But he was mostly still Eddie. He didn’t mind, he’d love her no matter what.

He kissed her head and left the room, heading back downstairs to see what needed to be done for you. The house was mainly clean, just some washing up that needed putting away, which he did with ease.

He closed the blinds and curtains, turning on a few lamps here and there. Settling down to continue his magical adventure.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Mama! Mommy!” Eddie jumped awake to the sound of a familiar shout. Margot. Running up the stairs he saw the small girl walking out of her mothers room. “Mama,” she cried, extremely upset.

“Hey kiddo,” he said gently, not wanting to scare her. “Daddy!” she cried, running to him. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and cried harder. “Hey kiddo, it’s okay.” She sobbed. “It’s okay baby, Daddy’s got you,” he rocked her gently in his arms, shushing her.

He did take your advice and took her downstairs, placing her on the sofa and turning on Cinderella. Once he was sure she would be alright he headed to the kitchen to warm some milk for the pair.

Checking it wasn’t too hot, he handed her bottle over, which seemed to comfort her straight away. Watching the beautiful princess on the screen and giggling at Gus Gus she seemed more like herself.

“You feeling better baby?” he asked brushing her curls. “Mhm. Cuddle?” she titled her head.

He nodded, taking her bottle and placing it by his empty glass. He lifted the girl and lay down, putting her on his chest. Her head rested in his neck and she snuggled in, placing her dummy back in and grabbing her bunny tightly.

Eddie pulled a blanket over the pair of them and rubbed her back, gently playing with her curls every now and again. 10:56 the clock read.

The movie finished. Margot had been asleep for a while, since Cinderella went to the ball actually, but he didn’t want to risk moving her. He sat up carefully, placing her on the couch, making sure she was snuggled up.

Placing the glass and bottle in the sink, he began to turn off the lamps, minus the one in the front hall so you got in safe. He walked back to see Margot still snoozing and couldn’t help but smile.

He never thought he’d get this, he knew he wasn’t her biological dad, but his heart melted that she saw him as that. That she loved him as that. That you loved him. He thought after what happened with Chrissy he’d be alone forever.

He shook his head to remove the thought, he had you and Margot, Wayne and Maeve. He had his friends too, who also adored Margot, thinking she was the cutest thing.

Carefully picking her up, he draped the blanket over the back of the couch. Grabbing his book and her bunny in one hand, holding her with the other.

When he placed Margot down on her bed she whined, pulling his back down to her. “Stay,” she mumbled, half asleep still. Bringing her too him again, he turned off her nightlight and carried her to your room.

Placing the book on the bedside table, he tucked both of them in. Margot snoozed up against his chest, he kissed her head. “Goodnight baby, Daddy loves you.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

3:30am. Walking into the house, you slipped off your shoes and sighed. That had been a hell of a shift, but the tips were great. Your home was silent, the lamp in the hall left on which you smiled at, knowing it was a gesture of Eddies love.

Hanging your bag on the hook, you headed up the stairs. Popping your head into Margots room you became confused. She wasn’t there.

Trying not to panic, you almost jogged to your own room. Heart melting at the sight that greeted you. Eddie and Margot cuddled up together.

Changing into your own pyjamas, you climbed in next to them, cuddling in. Eddie kissed your forehead, still very much asleep, pulling you closer, but leaving enough room for Margot not to be squished.

This was the most loved you’d felt in so long. You, Eddie and your girl, Margot. Your little family.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[werepuppy-steve]

the night before christmas

steddie | wc: 1,377 | cw: none | emma's pov

emma gets to meet a very special someone

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

it's a little after midnight for me, so merry christmas to those who celebrate!

The house is silent, save for the clock ticking on the mantle in the living room, dimly lit by the Christmas tree in front of the window, covered in different colored lights and handmade ornaments—some from decades long since passed, family heirlooms handed down, and some more recent. Little ceramic handprints and popsicle picture frames. Reindeer and gingerbread men painted with a toddler's unsteady hand.

The plate of cookies and the glass of milk remain untouched as the occupants of the house sleep soundly in their beds with dreams of sugar plum fairies dancing through their heads.

Snow falls outside in fat flakes, covering everything in a cold, heavy blanket and there's not a soul in sight. It's the night before Christmas and everyone is eagerly awaiting morning to come to see what Santa brought them.

But someone is about to find out ahead of schedule.

Tucked all snug and warm in her bed, five year old Emma Munson snaps awake at the sound of a clatter coming from downstairs.

—

The carpeted runner muffles her footsteps as she carefully walks down the hallway. She can see a light on in the living room from the top of the stairs and she gasps quietly as she crouches down and looks between the bars of the banister.

A lamp is turned on, illuminating a figure dressed in red and white putting presents under the tree.

As quietly as she can, Emma makes her way down the stairs. She doesn’t know if this will put her on the Naughty List or not, but she might not ever get this chance again in her whole life.

“Santa?”

Santa’s hat gets caught on the tree when he jumps in surprise. He struggles with it for a second before fixing it on his head and slowly turning around. He doesn’t look like the Santa in the picture books on her bookshelf, but Emma remembers her daddies telling her that nobody has ever actually seen Santa before so they’re just drawing what they think he looks like.

He’s not round like people say he is, but he’s tall. Almost as tall as her daddies. She doesn’t feel as anxious as before. Her daddies are tall and they make her feel safe, so it has to be the same way with Santa.

With that thought in her head, she takes a confident step forward, wringing her hands in her pajama top nervously.

“Are you really Santa?”

Santa looks a little surprised, like no one has ever asked him that before. After a second, he sits on the coffee table with a light chuckle and pats his knee with a soft look in his twinkling brown eyes.

Emma doesn’t hesitate to run over and climb into his lap, looking up at him in awe.

His beard is as white as the snow outside and soft to the touch. He gives her the same look her daddy Eddie does before he scoops her up and makes her squeal and laugh with kisses all over her face, all soft and happy.

Yeah, it’s definitely the same way with Santa.

“Are you really Emma Louise Munson?” Santa asks kindly, mirth shining in his eyes.

Emma gasps. “How do you know my name?”

Santa laughs again. “Because I’m Santa Claus. How else would I know your name or where you live?”

Emma scrunches her nose and pushes up her glasses. They’re too big for her face still but daddy Steve says she’ll grow into them. She thinks for a minute and then that nervousness returns.

“If you’re the real Santa, does that mean I’m on the Naughty List now and you’ll take my presents away?” she asks in a small voice.

“Of course not, swe–” Santa cuts himself off but he rubs her back comfortingly, like her daddy Eddie does when she’s sad. “I don’t put kids on the Naughty List just for being awake. Here, I’ll tell you what.”

He lifts her off his lap and guides her over to the tree, crouching down in front of it. He picks up a smaller present that’s wrapped in red and white paper with little candy canes all over it. “I’ll let you open one early as a treat.” He boops her on the nose with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “As long as you keep it our little secret.”

Emma nods excitedly, her curls bouncing. “Yeah!” she says, a little too loudly, and apologizes when Santa gently hushes her. “Don’t worry, Santa, I’m a great secret keeper. You can ask my best friend, Caleb. One time he spilled red paint on his mom’s white purse and he didn’t want to get in trouble so he said the cat did it.”

Santa raises his eyebrows as she speaks and Emma’s eyes go wide when she realizes she just told Santa Claus the biggest secret she’s ever kept. “Oops. I shouldn’t have said that,” she says quietly.

“Probably not,” Santa says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. “But that’s alright, I still trust you to keep our secret.” He motions to the gift in her hands. “Go ahead, open it.”

Emma doesn’t hold back as she excitedly tears at the wrapping paper. She gasps so hard she’s afraid she’ll need her inhaler, but Santa must really be magic because she doesn’t. She gapes down at the pack of modeling clay she remembers putting in her letter to Santa.

“You remembered!”

Santa gives a chuckle that comes from deep in his belly. “Of course I did! You said you wanted it because you wanted to bake like your daddy, but he said you were still too little to go near the oven.”

Emma nods. “Uh-huh!”

She looks down at the clay and rolls her lips inwards, so focused on deciding what she’s gonna make first, that she doesn’t notice Santa glancing up at the top of the stairs and doesn’t hear his quiet, “Oh shit.”

“Alright, kiddo,” Santa says, dragging Emma’s attention back to him. “Other kids still need to get their gifts, too.”

Emma frowns, but nods, holding the clay close to her chest. “You won’t tell my daddies about this, will you?”

Santa ruffles her hair with a gloved hand. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Emma mimes zipping her lips and locking them and throwing away the key.

“Good girl,” Santa laughs. “Now run along back up to bed, okay?”

“Aw, I don’t get to see you go back up the chimney?”

Santa hefts his toy back over his shoulder and winks. “Santa still has to keep some surprises.”

Emma frowns but nods. She gives him one last hug and then dashes back up the stairs and to her room, quickly trying to fall back to sleep so she can open the rest of her presents in the morning.

—

“Nice going, Santa,” Steve smirks as Eddie sneaks into their bedroom and shuts the door behind him, still in the Santa costume.

Eddie rips off the fake beard and huffs, putting his hands on his knees like he’s just ran a marathon. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. She’s gonna be asking to open a present early every year now.”

He takes off the rest of the costume that he was forced to wear for the label’s holiday party. A prank devised by Chrissy because she’s an actual menace to society.

There’s only one man he wants sitting on his lap, thank you very much.

Steve watches from where he’s sat up in bed, sliding an appreciative gaze over his husband, still in the red coat. “I don’t know, baby, this is kinda doing something for me.”

Eddie chokes on his spit and looks back at Steve with wide eyes. “Are you developing a Santa kink? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Steve only throws the blankets off of himself and crawls down the bed toward Eddie, like he’s a tiger stalking his prey.

Eddie holds his discarded clothes in front of him like a shield and slowly walks backward towards their ensuite. “Stevie, please, think about the repercussions. The ramifications this could have–ack!”

He shuts the bathroom door just as Steve pounces, laughter spilling from both of their lips.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

crossroads ch.5

javier peña x fem single mom reader

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N woke up feeling well-rested. Blinking away sleep, she glanced at the clock and realized it was much later than she usually woke up. Panic set in as she quickly got out of bed, wondering why Elle hadn’t woken her up yet.

She hurriedly made her way to Elle’s room but found it empty. Panic turned to confusion as she heard giggles and the sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen. She walked in to find Javier at the stove, flipping pancakes, while Elle sat at the table, a big smile on her face.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Javier greeted her with a smile, pouring her a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Mommy!” Elle said, her mouth full of scrambled eggs.

Y/N’s heart melted at the sight. She sat down, taking the cup of coffee Javier handed her. “Javi, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Nonsense. You deserve some sleep,” he replied, brushing a kiss on her forehead before turning back to the stove.

“This is wonderful, thank you,” Y/N said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I have to go into work today,” Javier mentioned as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of her.

“And I have to take Elle to get her school uniforms for her first day of preschool tomorrow,” Y/N responded.

At the mention of preschool, Elle’s face fell. “I don’t want to go!” she blurted out.

Javier crouched down to her level. “Why’s that, princess? You’re going to have a blast. You’ll make new friends and learn new things.”

Elle pouted, her little hands on her hips. “I already know my ABCs and 123s.”

Y/N chuckled at her daughter’s sass and started cleaning up the kitchen. Javier helped her, and once they were done, he pulled her into a warm embrace. “You’re doing an amazing job, you know that?” he whispered before kissing her softly.

Javier then knelt down to Elle. “You’re gonna have a great day tomorrow, okay champ? You can do this.”

With that, Javier left for work, leaving Y/N and Elle to get ready for their day. They headed to the store to get Elle’s uniforms. Trying them on, Elle fussed, crossing her arms and sticking her hip out. “I don’t want the uniform. It’s ugly,” she declared with a dramatic flair.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh and snapped a picture of Elle’s pose, sending it to Javier with the caption, “Someone’s not happy about uniforms lol.”

They checked out and headed to the local store to get Elle’s school supplies. “Mommy, I want the Rapunzel one!” Elle exclaimed, pointing to a backpack adorned with the Disney princess.

After checking out and heading home, Y/N and Elle got everything ready for the next day. They laid out Elle’s new uniform and school supplies, and after dinner, Y/N helped Elle get ready for bed. She kissed her goodnight and tucked her in, promising her that preschool would be an exciting new adventure.

Back in her room, Y/N laid out her scrubs for work the next day next to Elle’s uniform. As she looked at the small outfit, she felt a lump in her throat and tears welled up in her eyes. Her little girl was growing up so fast.

Javier called her later that night. “How did the uniform shopping go?” he asked.

Y/N laughed softly. “Let’s just say Elle has a future in fashion criticism.”

They talked for a while, sharing the details of their days. Javier’s soothing voice calmed Y/N’s nerves about Elle’s first day. “You’re going to do great tomorrow. Both of you,” he said.

“Thank you, Javi. For everything,” Y/N whispered.

After the call, Y/N felt a sense of peace.The next morning, Y/N was up early to prepare Elle for her first day of preschool. She found Elle still groggy but excited. After getting Elle into her school uniform, Y/N gently brushed her hair and put it into pigtails, securing them with bright pink ribbons.

"How do you want your pancakes, peanut?" Y/N asked as she headed to the kitchen.

"With extra syrup, please!" Elle replied with a toothless grin.

Y/N smiled, making a batch of pancakes and pouring Elle a glass of milk. The two sat together, enjoying their breakfast. After finishing her meal, Elle watched cartoons while Y/N quickly put on her tennis shoes.

"Alright, peanut, turn off the TV. Time to go to school," Y/N called out.

Elle obediently turned off the TV, grabbed her Rapunzel backpack, and followed her mom outside. As they walked to the car, they saw Javier coming home from his night shift.

"Morning, Mr. Javier!" Elle waved enthusiastically.

Javier walked over, squatting down to Elle's level. "You ready for your first day, princess?"

"No, but Mommy says I have to be brave," Elle replied, her eyes wide.

"That's right, you’re a big girl now. You're gonna have a great day, squirt," Javier said, kissing the top of her head. He then stood up and kissed Y/N. "You have a great day too, sweetheart. Let me know how everything goes."

Y/N nodded, feeling comforted by his support. They got into the car and headed to Elle's preschool. Upon arrival, Y/N unbuckled Elle and helped her out of the car. Elle clung to her mother, fear evident in her eyes.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Elle whispered.

Y/N knelt down and held her daughter's hands. "It's okay to be scared, peanut. Mommy's scared too, but remember what I told you last night? We have to be brave."

Elle nodded, squeezing her mom’s hand as they walked into the building. The preschool teacher greeted them warmly. "Alright, pumpkin, have an amazing day. If you need me, don't be afraid to ask someone to call me," Y/N said, her voice trembling slightly.

Elle nodded again and hugged her mother tightly. "Have a good day, Mommy."

Y/N kissed her daughter's head, tears brimming in her eyes. Elle walked away holding her teacher's hand, waving goodbye.

Wiping her tears, Y/N headed to the hospital for her first day of work. She clocked in and, despite her nerves, quickly found her groove. She thrived in the bustling environment, checking on patients and performing wound care.

However, her shift was extended due to an unexpected code. Worried about being late to pick up Elle, Y/N called Javier.

"Javi, can you pick up Elle from school? I’m stuck at work," she asked, her voice urgent.

"Of course, don’t worry about it. I’m on my way," Javier assured her.

Elle was ecstatic to see Javier. She ran up to him, handing over her backpack and holding his hand as they walked to the car. Javier realized he didn’t have a car seat and called Y/N in a slight panic.

"It’s okay, just drive slow. Have her buckle up and sit behind one of the seats, not in the middle," Y/N instructed.

Javier nodded and asked Elle what she wanted for dinner.

"Pizza! With pepperonis!" Elle exclaimed.

"Pizza it is," Javier agreed with a smile.

They got home, using the spare key under the mat to unlock the door. Javier helped Elle with her homework, practicing animals and colors. Elle sounded out the letters, impressing Javier with her progress.

After homework, Elle watched cartoons while Javier ordered pizza. Y/N arrived home, apologizing for being late.

"Don’t worry about it, we got everything covered," Javier reassured her.

Elle ran to her mom, hugging her tightly. "Hi, Mommy! I missed you!"

"I missed you more, baby. How was your day?" Y/N asked, hugging her back.

"It was good! Mr. Javier helped me with my homework and we ordered pizza!" Elle said excitedly.

Y/N looked at Javier with gratitude. "Thank you so much, Javi."

"It’s nothing. I love spending time with her," he replied, kissing her on the forehead.

The three of them sat down to eat, sharing stories about their day. Y/N felt a sense of contentment, knowing she had both her daughter and Javier by her side. As they finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen.

As the evening settled in, Y/N began the familiar bedtime routine with Elle. She helped her daughter brush her teeth, changed her into pajamas, and read her favorite bedtime story. Elle snuggled under her blankets, clutching her stuffed animal tightly.

"Goodnight, peanut," Y/N whispered, kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, Mommy. I love you," Elle murmured sleepily.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, gently closing the door behind her.

Downstairs, Javier sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as Y/N entered the room and plopped down beside him, running a hand through her hair.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Javier asked, his eyes full of concern.

Y/N sighed deeply. "It's been such a long day. The first day at a new job is always nerve-wracking, but then we had a code, and I had to stay late. I was so worried about Elle, and then feeling like I was neglecting her because of work. And now, seeing how fast she’s growing up... It’s just a lot."

Javier reached out, taking her hand in his. "You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. Balancing work and being a mom isn’t easy, but you’re handling it like a champ. Elle is happy and well taken care of, and that’s because of you."

Y/N leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Javi. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out," he said softly, wrapping his arm around her.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being their steady breathing. Eventually, exhaustion overtook them both. Javier shifted slightly, adjusting so they were both lying down. Y/N snuggled into his chest, feeling safe and content.

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped up together on the couch, Y/N felt a deep sense of peace. Javier's steady heartbeat was a comforting lullaby, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to fully relax, knowing that she and Elle were in good hands.

taglist: @wanniiieeee @sunnytuliptime

[positivelybeastly]

[Guest starring @silverjetsystm with permission.]

Waking up is a slow process.

Tess smiles to herself, hugging her pillow closer as she revels in the simple pleasure of a perfect morning in bed. The mattress beneath her is impossibly soft. (Pillowtop. Stark Industries' finest!) Even in the pounding heat of July, the Egyptian cotton sheets are cool to the touch (Hank's tech). This is languishing at its finest.

'Should've moved back to the Mansion twenty years ago.'

She sighs, burying her face so enthusiastically into the pillow she might as well be motorboating the damn thing. That's the stuff.

A warm, bony foot pushes against her leg. Her eyes snap open. What the f--?

She rolls over onto her side and takes in the situation: the gargantuan bed, with the gargantuan blue man dozing on the far side, his glasses resting on the end table. Herself on the right side, sans pants. (She tucks one escaped tit back into the prison of her tank top.) The man between them, his white mask pulled low over his face and seeming to glow in spite of the early morning sun filtering in through the window, junk covered by the pair of full moon boxers that somehow fit between a tailored white suit the night before without leaving any pantylines.

Tess flops onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, processing the situation in stone-faced silence. Then with the reasonableness of one asking if they're running low on milk, "Hank?"

"Are you having sex with Moon Knight?"

Let it never be said that the universe didn't have a sense of humour.

Even as Tess was waking from the kind of deep, restful sleep that only a combination of modern amenities and actual, truly comfortable environs could accomplish, Hank's phone, atop which sat his glasses, ticked silently towards an unintentional punchline that had been in motion for no less than a full year.

It was 10:59AM in the morning, a lazy, late start for Hank. The Avatar of Vengeance himself's face was pressed into the hirsute scientist's pectorals, making up for his lack of pillows nicely (Tess had made sure to secure one of them for herself, naturally, Hank was big enough that he warranted one, and the rest had all gone everywhere, all across the bed in the wake of - activities), and Hank dozed restfully, the powerful thump of his six chambered heart keeping the Moon Knight in a comfortable doze, even as the sunlight slowly crept along their bodies.

11:00AM.

On the bedside table, Hank's phone woke, and Hank woke with it.

The funk groove was where it all started.

"🎵And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. 🎵"

"Mrppph . . ." Slowly opening his lambent eyes, Hank yawned wide enough that small children would have screamed in fear at the sight of all of the incredibly pearly, incredibly sharp teeth, David Byrne's voice lulling him to wakefulness as it had done for a full year.

Tess asked her question. A reasonable one, at that.

" 🎵 And you may ask yourself, 'well, how did I get here?' 🎵'"

How indeed, David Byrne. How indeed.

Hank closed his eyes and rumbled.

"It's entirely possible, Tess."

[sammisafetypin]

@bandtrees and i are enjoying End i have a new daughter

[henqtic]

FIVE INCOMING . STEVE HARRINGTON X BLACK!READER

word count: 1045 . warnings: pregnancy ( readers pregnant ), suggestiveness 

summary: tonight, you decided to hear what steve had to say to the baby.

note: i haven’t FULLY written anything in a little bit, this was the first thing i could write out in full in months ( rip half written draco and eddie blurbs in my drafts ) so this may be just a little dusty :)

— masterlist . taglist form . request works .

almost every night, at 10:27pm, you’d pause the music playing through your headphones, wrap the cord around them, unplug it from the cassette tape loaded with what you liked best, and place it on the side of your body. 

just to hear the sound of his keys jingling through his hands, not stopping until the right one getting pressed into the hole of your door. a smile would arise on your face, big and full at the long routine, tradition of him stepping out of those shiny work shoes, throwing the keys somewhere on the island in the kitchen, coming back with a warm glass of milk and kissing the very top of you hair.

“hey sweetheart, how was your day?” he’d ask, always glancing around your face, as if he'd forgotten any part of it the hours he was away, not letting the glow that bounced off of it from the shea butter you applied stop him

and he’d pull himself away for only a second to sit the cup down somewhere so that he could help you sit up from your resting position, with your head on the arm of the couch and black braids hanging down, in order to drink from the glass in a way that it wouldn’t spill all over you. 

“oh it was just the same,” you’d sigh airily, however unremarkable it was not mattering anymore since he was here now, “incredibly boring, lifeless, and peaceful without you in the house,” you raised your eyebrows with an enclosed smile at the slide in of the insult, holding out your hands to receive the warm cup.

a hum, an unconvinced, never offended hum, because he knew you were lying.

it was more exhausting really, a never ending cycle of lying around, cooking up about thirty different snacks that were all of the odd things you could find in your kitchen, reading up on the never ending lists of pregnancy, parenting, and birthing books steve had left around, and calling up his mom to get more and more insights into her boy as a baby.

“peaceful? without me? c’mon, [ your name ], wives don’t lie.”

“i’m not, y’know magazines are much better companions than you.”

“oh please,” he’d snort, and find a bonnet laying somewhere around to place on your head instead of having you lift your ever so fragile arms and do it yourself. 

once you were done, he’d take the empty glass from your hands, kiss the thick mustache it left, and leave it in the sink for the morning. 

he’d kiss you all the way to bed, from your forehead, to your eyebrows, eyes, cheeks, nose lips, hands, until you were tucked away in bed and he could shower for the next fifteen minutes.

he’d return, in nothing but his boxers and the soundless call to slip under the sheets with you, pull the blanket down to the start of your thighs, and lay his head on your rounded stomach so that he could talk with the baby growing inside of it like his best friend. although dustin liked to respond in forms other than kicks and languid movings.

the only difference tonight was, you’d usually be asleep.

you knew as tiresome dust and debris clouded your eyes, and the big read numbers of 10:50 beamed through it all. but this time, you thought to switch up the routine, just a little bit. only to hear whatever heartwarming things he had to say.

heartwarming being what you expected, this was more of heart collapsing, heart punching, heart stopping and revelrous reviving at the very chance it had heard something wrong as his talks and murmurs and promises stirred left. completely left, like a wrong exit that led you to another state.

“steve, six is way too many,” you whispered into his ear, an airy coat to your voice as you tried not to laugh out loud at the image of your baby and their five other future siblings sitting in the back of some van on some road trip he'd just come up with.

“honey it’s past your bedtime, just go to sleep,” he attempted to dismiss you, shushing you softly as he scooted his head further back so that your nails could dig further into his scalp.

“and six is past my pushing limit.”

“we’ve had six children before,” he tsked, twisting his body around to look up at you with those big brown eyes, all homey and squinted with that trace of feigning anointment and ignorance as you attempted to deny both of your skill sets, “lucas, max, dustin, will, mike, erica.”

“did i push any of them out of my vagina?”

“mentally.”

“steve.”

the minute you started dating him, it seemed that not only the title of mrs.harrington had slapped itself onto you, but also designated babysitter. honestly one of the best babysitting jobs you could’ve never got paid for.

“fine, fine, okay, what about. . . five?” he offered, furrowing his eyebrows together to make his fake attempt at a thought of compromise more believable. 

not working at you heckled out a sound that would make your neighbors think you were watching the comedy channel late at night.

so funny that it made your husband upset at the fact he couldn’t come up with that joke, face remnant of a brick wall with absolutely no sort of amusement quality to it. 

“okay, i’m sorry, i just– you think five it that much different than six?”

a straight lipped silence was your answer.

“look, how about this. . . three. four if i really need you.”

the squinting curtains he placed over his eyes rose as his spirits did, four was a big family, big enough for the two of you.

“four is a great number. but what do you mean if you really need me?” his voice echoed the regulation of your term, and he smiled amused at the implication. you nodded with a similar expression as you kept eye contact and continued rubbing his scalp.

“because every other day eating out isn’t needing me. . .”

“hey now, that’s only because it’s recommended for pregnant women.”

you weren’t quite sure if that was truth or lie.

“recommended?”

“mhm.”

“by who?” he challenged.

“any pregnant women you ask.”

🔖— !! @druigslover @cupids-crystals @i-love-scott-mccall @candiedfruits @enchqnting @kitkatkaitin @ravenclawslytheringirl @timmyslover @moonlitmeeks @uwiuwi @popeheywardssecretgf @jellyddog @wrongilbert @iwannafeelallthatloveandemotion @hemogloban​ @sydneekomspacekru @missryerye @nyx2021 @valluvsu @bunnyweasley23 @eichenhouseproperty 

… info to be tagged in future works 𓂅

༊ taglist form — fill out to be tagged/notified when works are posted )

༊ @henqticstudy​ — follow and turn on notifications for this blog to only get notified when a work is posted

[squeakygeeky]

Aaaand it’s Wednesday! Someone on reddit was hosting actual Unforgotten Night bingo and I should have participated because were 3 sec in and there’s already running water. He is actually seen turning it off though. A miracle.

Anyway, it’s time for the fancy pool house vacation with everyone. It’s pretty par for the course that Kim immediately ditches Kamol to go swim with Baiboon (and all the bodyguards). At least he wanted to hold hands with Kamol on the plane. But again, where is the BDSM in the trashy BDSM show? I need something to mock for the internet! Kamol just watches while drinking tea. Baiboon almost immediately manages to hurt himself while getting out of the pool because of course he does.

At least this time he has Khom tending to him as is right and proper.

Baiboon was trusted to carry two (2) drinks several feet across a patio?? What show am I watching?

Not Kim wanting to sleep with Baiboon! Except the only way I imagine this scenario going is, “Baiboon, let’s gossip about boys! Do you need a glass of warm milk? Let me tuck you in, here is your teddy bear.”

Wait, Khom and Baiboon are actually sleeping together? Yes, but not like that either. They appear to just be sharing a room, but who knows. Unlike:

What? I mean, I knew to expect this because I am in no way avoiding UN spoilers (if the show itself can’t spoil my enjoyment, how can anything else?), but still. It is completely out of nowhere that they other random bodyguards start hooking up in the shower. All three (3) of them.

Also Baiboon’s aunt (the housekeeper) has been here the whole time and is apparently just happy to have been asked along for this trip despite the fact that she’d actually working, unlike anyone else I could name (not that I can name the 3 horny bodyguards).

Hey hey hey I guess we finally are getting BDSM in the BDSM show. This seems unwise from the perspective of slipperiness, structural integrity of the plumbing, and the drinking contest (with wine?) they just had. But what would UN be without running water?

Safe and sane left the building a while ago.

Anyway, that kind of action over, we see some actual action in the form of Cherry and her earrings being kidnapped, and a gunfight at the vacation house (in the pool for some reason) that Kim totally sleeps through. Kamol watches him sleep while taking nutritional supplements, as one does.

Kim finally gets to cook for his man, and I’m hungry despite having eaten lunch while watching this, except then there’s a fly in the shot because of course there is. Like a big one and then also a little gnat thing that keeps trying to fly into Kamol’s eye. Also Baiboon accidentally sees Khom naked, thus spotting his back injury, which is an excuse to get all up in his business. And who could blame him, Khom is the best looking in this show.

Time to go home. Somehow Kamol’s ex is in their bed. I guess that’s what happens when you bring all your bodyguards on vacation and don’t have a halfway decent home security system that relies on something other than live tigers.

Looking forward to next week, whose preview promises the drama but whose actuality will probably once again bring a slightly random series of events that I will nonetheless be heavily invested in.

[allmightsprettyhousewife]

how do you think all might would react to his baby/or toddler daughter coming up to him and saying “kiss kiss”?

DadMight reacting to his daughter asking for a kiss!

Author's Note: You have my heart anon, I love to imagine Toshi with a baby. Especially a girl for whatever reason?? Idk, maybe it's just because I love the idea of him naming her Nana. Trigger Warnings: None! Reader Specifications: Reader is 3 years old. Word Count: 305

-Toshinori was absolutely weak for his daughter

-But he didn’t want kids.

-Then a woman he had a one night stand with found him

-And she had the cutest bundle of pink in her arms

-He was smitten right there

-”I don’t want her, you can give her a better home anyways.”

-That was that really, he got a DNA test to be safe

-Surprise, Surprise

-Toshinori Yagi, All Might, was a father

-Even if you weren’t his, he couldn’t give you up

-Not after you smiled up at him and gripped his to big finger in your little hands

-You brought so much life, and love into his life

-He started taking better care of himself

-He wanted to be able to come home to you

-He tucked you into bed (your new BIG GIRL bed, that he totally didn’t sob about) that night

-But you kept getting up.

-Two glasses of milk, three stories, one trip to the potty

-The next request found you sneaking into his office, clutching the stuffed version of your daddy

-He didn’t notice you until you pulled on his shirt

-”What’s wrong, little one?”

-Que the grabby hands, and the sleepy little eyes

-”Kiss, kiss?”

-He smiled a little soft smile, heart-melting.

-” You think I’m going to deny my favorite girl a kiss?”

-He swooped you up

-1 kiss on each cheek, two kisses on your forehead, one on your chin, and the last one was placed sweetly on your nose

-You giggled the whole way

-You lent up to give him a big slobbery kiss on his cheek, he didn’t wipe it off, he just laughed

-His heart felt so warm, so full

-He laid you there on his chest, and gently rocked back and forth

-He never wanted kids.

-Pft. Wasn’t that the biggest lie around? _____ Likes and reblogs are allows welcomed and appreciated! :)

[sachirobabe]

Monsters | M. Osamu x F!reader

Warnings: Time-skip, nightmares, cursing⚠️

An: repost from my wattpad

Female reader

Wc: 1,060

Osamu cuddled you up from behind, strong arms wrapped around your waist. He wouldn't wanna be anywhere else besides here with you— and of course his daughter who is now on her tippy toes, tapping her dad awake.

"Papa." Her wobbly voice broke the silence.

Osamu immediately turned, making sure not to wake you.

"What's wrong, honey?" His voice gruff from just waking up.

"I had a bad dream." Her sniffles were prominent.

He turned his head towards you, pulling the blankets over your sleeping frame, before slowly getting out of bed, holding his daughter in his arms.

She immediately wrapped her small arms around his neck, afraid he'd disappear, cries becoming more and more louder as he exited your shared room.

He rubbed her back affectionately, making his way back to her room. She sensed where she was going and began to wiggle in his grasp.

"No!" She cries. "Don't wanna go in there." Her sobs becoming louder, he winces at the change of sound, going from silence to tantrum isn't good on the ears.

"Hey hey, 's ok. There's nothin' there." He makes eye contact with her.

"No." She hides her face between his neck and shoulder.

He takes a look into her room, no sign of anything harmful.

"Honey, look, there's-"

"Papa, no." She firmly says. She definitely got your stubbornness. "Monsters in there." She hiccups. He quickly loses this battle and begins to head downstairs, some warm milk would make her sleepy.

But before he did that, he had to comfort her first. He sat down on the large couch, attempting to sit her beside him, immediately failing.

Her arms clung tightly against him, she now sat in his lap, her ear right where his heart was. She began to calm down slightly at the sound of his steady heart. Another thing she had learned from you.

"What was 'yer dream, sweetheart." He rocks her back and forth.

"Just bad. Monsters came and tried to eat me while I was sleeping." Her voice a little raspy from crying her heart out before.

"There's no monsters. Momma and I are here to protect you." He assures, turning his attention from the window, observing the sunrise.

"'M scared." She huffs.

"'S ok, honey. Don't be scared, 'ya know I'd beat up those monsters before I let 'em hurt 'ya." He finished rocking her.

"Promise." Her teary eyes making a cameo again.

"I promise. Let's head back to 'yer room now, yeah?" He suggests.

"Only if you stay."

He nods. "Let's get some milk first."

He carried her on his side, she began to yawn more frequently, he took quick notice, the milk would put her right to bed.

She stiffened a little once he came up to her room. He kissed her forehead, assuring she'd be ok. Immediately as he walked in, she took a look around the room. He set her down on the bed, placing her glass of milk on her nightstand.

"Can you check-"

"Already on it." He smiles, getting on his knees, checking underneath the bed. Just as he expected, nothing.

He made his way to her closet, again nothing. He checked every square inch of her room to make her feel safe and to protect her. He made sure her window was locked just as it's always been.

The bed dipped a bit as he sat down, she laid down in her bed now.

"No monsters?" She asks.

He shook his head. "Nope. None, I used my big muscles," He raises his arms to show her, "to scare 'em away." She giggles at his antics.

"Thank you, papa." She rubs her eyes.

"Get some sleep, yeah?" He tucks her in, shutting off the lamp, giving her another goodnight kiss, and starts to get up.

"Please stay." She holds his arm. He nods, cuddling up next to her. Once again her head leaning on his chest, hearing his heart beat.

Quickly he noticed her steady breaths and the grip she once had on his hand was now loose. His eyes began to feel heavy as well, he promised he'd rest his eyes and then head back to you.

You woke up, noticing Osamu was gone, the door cracked open as well. It was far too early to be up right now. Your search didn't take too long because you knew where he'd be. Your daughters room.

What you weren't expecting was your tall ass husband to fit in a 5 year olds bed. It warmed your heart how he took care of whatever it was this time without waking you up.

Though the way his body was hunched over would surely make him age at least 20 years, you made your way quietly over to him and shook him awake, making sure you didn’t wake your daughter.

"Sleeping here won't be good for your back, come to bed, babe." Your hand palms over his cheek.

His large hand caresses yours, he turns his head to get out of bed and not wake your daughter from her much needed slumber.

"Bad dream." He sleepily says.

"Hm?" You shut the door behind you two, now heading to your shared one. He sleepily walks, his eyes shutting every so often as he went on.

"She had a bad dream, surprised 'ya didn't hear her cryin'." He gets into bed.

"I was really tired, I didn't hear a thing." You joined him. He hums, barely getting situated in bed before he's making grabby arms to you.

"Thank you for taking care of it." You hop into bed, getting engulfed immediately by him.

"'S nothin'. Least I can do since 'ya birthed her." He kisses your forehead.

"I still woke up." You giggle softly. He opens his eyes and quickly pecks your lips.

"'S because 'ya missed me, right?" He teases, sleepily smirking.

"Oh yeah. Definitely." You rolled your eyes.

"I really love 'ya."

"I love you too, Samu." You breathed out softly.

His legs entangled yours even more than before, pulling you impossibly closer. Tucking your head in his chest, listening to his heart beat.

All your worries melted away, you breathe in his scent, pressing a kiss to his bare chest. He rubbed your back softly with his calloused hands, tickling you softly.

Your steady breathing gave away your slumber, "I love 'ya." He whispers, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before he too dozed off to sleep, hoping his daughter wouldn’t wake him and she’d sleep peacefully.

*do not steal or plagiarize

[seijorhi]

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him. 

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side. 

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case. 

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything. 

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. 

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that? 

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him. 

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face. 

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you. 

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you. 

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity. 

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you. 

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned. 

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place. 

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you. 

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye- 

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter. 

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace. 

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his. 

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up. 

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!” 

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms. 

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame. 

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him. 

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds. 

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him. 

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable. 

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace. 

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers. 

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust. 

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating. 

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him. 

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

[startanewdream]

Hi Mah, could you write something about Jily in a world where Voldemort doesn't exist? Or, Jily + baby Harry.

If you don't want to, it's okay! Thanks ❤️

Sorry for taking so long! Hope this brightens your day with Lily watching Harry growing up and so not ready for it (no Voldemort mentioned as requested). Based on a real conversation I heard yesterday!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time she hears it, Lily thinks she was mistaken.

“What, Harry?” she asks, feeling a strange weight on her chest.

He turns to her again, an innocent smile on his lips. “Can I have another cup of chocolate, Mum?”

Yeah, she heard it right the first time. And it’s as bad as she thought. Mum.

She looks at her son, really stares at him trying to understand what’s prompting this difference in his treatment of her. It doesn’t look as if anything has changed from yesterday. Harry still looks like her six-year-old son, a few weeks away from turning seven, average height for his age, with a face that’s becoming more and more like his father everyday, shining green eyes behind the round-glasses he wears.

He doesn’t look any older than he is, no sudden spurge, no change at all, and yet he has called her Mum.

Not Mama.

“Sure, Harry,” she says slowly. “Mama will prepare for you, okay?”

“Thanks, Mum.”

Mum. Well, she reasons to herself as she warms the milk, it’s better than “mother”, that exaggerated formality that she has heard in other circles and that’s not at all how she and James wanted to raise Harry.

And, well, she couldn’t expect that Harry would call her “Mama” all his life. It is a childish call and Harry is not… is not a child anymore?

No, he is just six. Not her baby anymore, she can accept that. After all, Harry already manages most of his routine by himself; he wakes up alone to go to school—he goes to school—, he remembers to brush his teeth at night, he helps her take care of their garden and all. He is a fine little kid.

Not so little anymore. Soon not even a kid. Merlin, how fast has he grown up?

“Mum?”

Lily blinks, turning off the stove in time to just avoid the milk to spill. Her hands are shaking as she finishes the chocolate, offering it to him. Harry smiles at her in thanks, drinking the chocolate despite the warmth—like her, he prefers his food always hot—and giving himself a mustache in the process.

“Hey.” She grins at him, using the back of her hand to clean his face before he can use a napkin. Lily doesn’t think she is ready for that display of maturity from her son.

“It’s good,” he says gladly, swinging his feet in the chair, still unable to reach the ground. Then he jumps out of the chair. “Can I play outside now?”

“Sure,” she says and, for good measure, she messes with his hair. Harry giggles, but a part of Lily just waits for the day her son will go all teenager and complain about this caring gesture, will move away from her touch. “Leave the cup in the sink.”

Harry nods. He has to stay on his tiptoe to reach the stove and this also warms Lily a little. He isn’t that old yet.

She watches him play outside all day, debating with herself when he will stop having patience to play with his figure toys, his imagination. When he will ask for a real professional broomstick, or when he will be able to actually ride it; when he won’t have time anymore for his old mum, so grown-up and unlikely that baby she held in her arms, that reached for her with plump arms crying happily for his “Mama”...

“What is bugging you?” James asks, coming to her side and placing his arm around her waist. Lily lays her head over his shoulder.

“Harry is growing up.”

“Well, fawns grow into stags,” he says reasonably. “But there is still time.”

Lily sighs. She supposes James is right, but then she thinks she barely saw the last seven years going by. What if she blinks and then he is taller, no baby fatness in him anymore, having no time for his mum?

“He is just so cute like this,” she whispers. She still can hold him in his arms after all. There is a strange desire to freeze him as he is. “But soon he will be going to Hogwarts—we’ll have to go to Diagon Alley and buy his stuff and he’ll already be old enough to have a wand—”

“Oh, I can’t wait for all the Hogwarts letters telling me about his detentions,” James says, grinning. “Hope it’s big enough for a Howler, my parents never send me one.”

“That’s because Monty and Mia pampered you.”

“Well, there’s that.” He laughs. “Or maybe he will be a good student like you. No detention. Prefect even.”

“Nah, Sirius influences him too much.” She bites her lip. “We raised him well, right?”

“We still do,” James notes. “What has caused this?”

Lily flushes. “He called me ‘Mum’”.

James blinks. “You wanted him to call you ‘Lily’?”

“No, it’s just… he used to call me Mama. You know.”

“He calls me Dad,” James shrugs, unconcerned. “I think it’s normal? The other kids in school call for their mum, not mama. He is just trying to not sound too childish.”

“I know.” Lily sighs heavily. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

James kisses her forehead tenderly.

Later that night, Lily goes to Harry’s room to tuck him in for the night. Harry accepts it without complaint, but when she looks around, she realizes his plushies aren’t there anymore.

“Where’s Godric, Harry?” she asks, thinking of the old lion plush that was his favourite. Harry shrugs.

“In the trunk.”

“Oh.” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. “You used to love sleeping with him.”

“I can sleep alone, Mum,” he answers as if she is being silly. Oh, dear.

“Yeah, you can.” She kisses his cheek and is glad when Harry doesn’t grimace; Lily doesn’t think she is ready for her son to reject a bit of motherly attention. “You are my brave cub lion on your own.”

He giggles. It’s a pure sound, happy and so childish, that she feels a strange relief with it. He is growing up, but maybe this will be slow. She hopes she can enjoy every second of it.

Lily caresses his hair until Harry’s eyes start to close, his expression easing even more, then she stands up.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

He rolls in the bed, almost sleeping already. “Goodnight, Mama.”

She pretends his slip doesn’t make her beam all night.

[eroselless]

hopelessly devoted [2]

Pairing : Sebastian Stan x reader │regency au

Summary : When Y/N Brighton finds herself suddenly married to a strange older man, she thinks her life is completely derailed. Wha happens when she starts to get close to him?

Warnings : smut, lil bit of angst, fluffiness

Word Count : 3.2k

Notes : Y'all I kinda suck at dialogue, so I'm sorry if it sounds weird lol. Also I'm sorry it's a little late, I was trying to aim for Sunday morning but oh well. This will also be the last part of this lil mini series. I had lots of fun writing it. Hope you guys like it! Also just a little last note, this is my first time writing a full smut sequence (cuz I am very much I experienced, if you catch my drift) so apologies if it’s not the best :)

here's what I listened to while I wrote :)

find part 1 here!

It was in the very early hours of the morning when Y/N shot up from her sleep. Her brain was buzzing from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. She had awoken with a gasp, the feeling of falling bringing her out from her deep slumber. The night was still dark, the moon slowly making its way back under the horizon. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, stars sparkling behind her closed eyelids.

The house was in such complete silence, you could hear a pin drop. Y/N sat there, for a moment in the dark. It had been three days since the party with Sebastian. As much as she tried to open up to him, it was nearly impossible as he continued to retreat into his office, asking not to be disturbed. Leaning back on her pillows, she stared at the empty side of her bed. Reaching over, she smoothed her hand over the untouched sheet as if to try to imagine how warm it would be if her husband had slept there.

“He’s probably sound asleep in his room, his dreams far away from me.” She sighed, swinging her legs out from under the covers and stepping out of bed. She pulled a thin robe over her nightgown, shivering slightly at the cold fabric. She grabbed a lit candelabra, holding it gently as she made her way down to the kitchens. She only realized she had forgotten her slippers when her feet had touched the cold tiles of the kitchens. Placing the candle on the counter, she opened the fridge and took out a small glass jar of milk. She sat down in front of the candle, staring into the dancing flame.

Sebastian was cold under his sheets, not having retired to his bed long ago. He tossed and turned, huffing as he sat up in frustration. Sleep seemed to evade him in every way possible. He made his way down to the kitchen, not having bothered to put on a shirt. As he neared the doorway, he realized his bride was sitting there quietly, her cheek leaning into her left hand. Her hair was pulled back, a braid adorning her hair. Her back was to him as he walked in.

“Can’t sleep either?” He said once he was close enough. Y/N jumped a little, choking slightly on the milk she was drinking. She cleared her throat once she had swallowed and nodded at him.

“I thought maybe milk would help but,” She shrugged and made a face. Sebastian chuckled and took an identical bottle of milk out of the fridge.

“It might help if it was warm, I think.” He started and flicked on the oven. He placed a pan on the stove, emptying the bottle into it. “I can warm yours up too if you want.” Y/N nodded shyly, getting up and walking to hand him the bottle. They stood there, watching the milk slowly come to a bubble. The awkwardness was almost palpable, each eyeing the other’s movements.

Once the milk had warmed up he poured it into cups, handing one to her. He sat down next to her, much closer than he had ever been. They drank their milk in silence.

Y/N cradled the cup in her hands, watching the last of the milk swirl around at the bottom. Sebastian watched her, examining the dark circles under her eyes. Maybe her head was as full as his was. He wanted to speak, to let her know that he didn’t mean to pull away from her. That he really wanted to open his heart to but couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself. Strands of her hair had fallen out of the loose braid, falling in front of her face. He reached over, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers grazed the side of her face, feeling the smoothness of her cheek. He moved his hand, his thumb on the side of her face, fingers gently wrapping around the back of her neck. He tried to push the guilt away, tried to mute it as he felt her lean into his hand. Her eyes were hooded, the light of the candle slowly starting to fade as they inched closer. He could feel her slow breath as his lips came nearer to hers. He was so close.

With a swift move of his free arm, he knocked over the glass bottle, sending it falling to the tile floor. He jumped away from her, startled by the noise. He quickly rose from his chair, looking around the room for a broom. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Y/N stood from her chair slowly. Her head was down as she picked up the empty cups and put them in the sink. The moment was gone. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He said, throwing away the pieces of glass. She really didn’t know what he meant. Did he mean he shouldn’t have accidentally knocked over the bottle? Or did he mean he shouldn’t have gotten so close to kissing her?

“It’s fine, it was just a little accident.” She mumbled, still not knowing what he was referring to. He put the broom back in its place and made his way out of the dark kitchen. He looked back at her as she stood silently by the sink. He nodded to her and whispered a small g’night before fading into the darkness and leaving her alone. Her eyes filled with tears as he slipped from her fingers once again.

It was in the late afternoon when she saw him next. She had sat down for a light snack after dinner, looking out the big windows of the dining room. The sun was making its way down the sky but was almost completely hidden behind thickening clouds. The whole day felt gloomy despite the ray of the sun that fought to peek out. Her husband had been quiet during dinner, dismissing himself the second he had eaten the last morsel of food from his plate. He wasn’t that hungry, he said. Where she sat, she watched as he made his way into the gardens.

Sebastian sighed as he sat down on the stone bench on the edge of the gardens. He looked forward, towards the darkening sky. From the library to the party to the warm glasses of milk the night before. His desire to have her close was rising but the guilt inside him kept him away. How could she feel happiness here? Away from her old life, away from the people she loved? He couldn’t help those words from echoing in his head. Even though he had been helping her family, giving them what they needed to eliminate their debts, he felt guilty for marrying her. He had taken her chances of a happy future away.

He turned towards the house as he heard footsteps walking towards him, rustling in the grass. He sucked in a breath as Y/N sat down next to him on the bench. She looked over at him, pressing closer as she leaned on her arm. They sat in silence, enjoying the cool air. It’s going to start raining soon, she thought.

There was something else in the air. There was a looming question, now that I'm here, what do I do now? Y/N could feel herself try to push a question out, anything to make him see her. Even though she was sat down next to him, why couldn’t they speak anymore? Why did he pull away from her whenever he got too close?

“Do you hate me?” She asked. Sebastian blinked. “Of course not.” He replied, confusion dripping from the question.

“Do I embarrass you?” She egged on, thinking back to the one moment in public, on the dance floor. He shook his head.

“Then why do you pull away when we are close?” She said. Frustration began to settle in him. He didn’t want to explain himself. Of course she didn’t embarrass him, but how could he explain to her the riddles that went on in his head? He stood up, shaking his head. He stepped in front of her, wanting to leave.

“No, no,” She cried, pushing herself up from her spot on the bench. “I can’t do this anymore!” She grabbed his hands, tears sparkling in her eyes.

He roughly pulled his hands away, making a move toward the house. The rain had slowly started to fall around them.

“Sebastian stop,” she begged, reaching for his arm again.

“This time you don’t get to walk away.” His eyes stayed focused on the grass below their feet, refusing to meet her eyes. He stayed frozen in place.

“Answer my question, why is it that whenever we get a chance alone, you pull away?” She protested. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid them of tears. His mouth felt dry as he tried to speak.

“I c-can’t” Her grip didn’t lessen on his arm. She was waiting. He looked back at her, tears falling from their eyes. Even here, with her eyes tinted red she still looked beautiful.

“I can’t bring myself to give in to the fire that’s burning in me. I can’t look at you and deny that there is love in me for you.” He spilled out. “I can’t help but feel as if I robbed you from any happiness that you could’ve had.” Y/N felt her heart beat louder in her chest.

“Every time I see you smile, I cannot help but feel sorrow grow in my chest because I can only ever imagine making you smile that way.” The pain in Y/N’s seemed to fade, growing into an adoration as he confessed. For weeks they had gone from sneaking longing glances at each other and pining for each other in secret.

“If you let me, I could be the happiest,” She began, bringing his hand to her chest. “I could be the happiest, here, with you.”

“My heart, it beats for you.” They stood there, their eyes locked on the other. And there, under the gloom and the rain, there was a different feeling in the pit of their stomachs. That warm fuzzy, euphoric feeling. Love.

He pressed his lips to her in a flurry of passion. He pulled his hand from her, holding the sides of her face. The walls built around each of them came crumbling down as they found themselves finally letting go. The saltiness of their tears was being slowly washed away by the rain, the pain falling away.

Sebastian pulled away from the kiss, resting his head on Y/N’s forehead. They were breathless, taking in the moment. Y/N leaned into his touch, smiling and pressing her cold nose against his cheek. Even though the storm was tearing around them, there was peace.

Y/N walked behind Sebastian as they made their way out of the rain and into their home. They slowly reached the top of the stairs, freezing upon coming face to face with their individual doors. Neither of them wanted to separate from the other, they stood in silence for a few seconds. Y/N watched as Sebastian looked between her and the door and then back at her.

“Will you need any help with your clothing?” she dared ask. Her voice was just above a whisper and for a second she questioned whether or not he had heard her. He felt his breath stop as he met her eyes.

“I suppose I will.” he said calmly. With that he guided her into his room.

She had only ever glanced into it a handful of times but had never even stepped foot in it. He had beautiful sage green decor with accents of gold. His bed sheets were a deep green and his curtains an even deeper green to keep the light from coming. They were pulled open to reveal the gloom coming from outside. It was similar to the size of her room yet there was a different vibe to it. The lights were lit, providing a soft and alluring vibe to the room. She was in awe of how elegant his room was, contrasting his serious exterior. Sebastian watched her, looking on with adoration.

She was pulled out of her daze as he stepped in front of her. She felt her cheeks warm up as he softly grabbed her hands in his. She peered up at him nervously, through her lashes. She pulled her hands away, bringing them to the buttons of his shirt. He watched as she carefully unbuttoned each one, admiring his tan skin as she got a wider and wider view of his chest.

Sebastian felt his heart flutter as her eyes traveled over the expanse of his pectorals. Her fingers danced over the faint chest hair and then over his shoulders as she fully peeled the sopping shirt from him. She trailed her fingers over his arms, taking one in her hands. She admired the veins that slightly popped up from under the skin as she traced them with the tips of her nails. He let out a shaky sigh as he pulled away from her.

A sense of lust began to grow in the air as he moved behind her. His breath danced on the back of her neck as he began to undo the knots of her dress. He pulled gently at the string, loosening it and taking it from her. She shivered under his touch, relishing in the lingering feeling of his fingertips on her back. She was left in her undergarments, feeling the cold air around her. She felt vulnerable. She had to still a laugh in her throat, what a metaphor for their current situation.

She then felt the rest of the clothes drop to the floor. She was now completely bare, her back fully exposed to Sebastian. She stepped out of the pool of clothes that were at her feet and slowly turned to face him. Reaching up, she gently pulled the pin from her hair. It cascaded down over her shoulders, still damp from the rain. Sebastian held in a gasp. Even though they had been living in the same house for weeks, he had never seen her with her hair down. Not completely. It was always up in a sort of way, but never lingering over her face like this. He kept his eyes up, trying not to look down at the swells of her breasts. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach when her eyes broke away from his and he felt her hands make their way to the buckle of his pants. He took a deep breath in as he felt his member stir within the confines of his undergarments. She pulled his pants and all from his hips and let them join her clothes on the floor below.

They were both bare. Standing in silence, in the cool air of Sebastian’s room.

“Tell me you want to stop and we can.” He whispered. Y/N’s eyes met his, twinkling in the dim light. “I don’t want to.” she said, inching forward.

With that, Sebastian pulled her in. His thumb caressed her bottom lip before placing his full lips over hers. This kiss was unlike the one they had shared in the rain. That one, though filled with passion, had timidness to it. He had been holding back ever so slightly. She felt him push against her until she felt something hit the back of her knees and she fell onto the bed.

It was then when she felt self conscious. She was frozen on the bed with her hair sprawled out underneath her like a halo. Sebastian towered over her, looking at her with an almost innocent tint in his eyes. On instinct, her hands went to cover her breast and her legs bent, hiding her womanhood. He shook his head, pulling her hand away gently.

“Please don’t hide from me. You're so beautiful.”

He leaned over, pressing a single kiss on her throat. He looked up at her, as if to ask for permission to continue. Y/N nodded before he leaned over her again. He pressed his hands on the mattress, holding himself up as he trailed his lips down the valley between her breasts. She could feel her heartbeat start picking up and soon she was feeling it between her legs. She felt herself grow wetter as he suckled on her nipple, tweaking the other one with his fingers. Her chest heaved as she felt his fingers travel just below her navel. He pressed his finger there before moving his mouth down her torso. She let out a low moan, tingles erupting in the depths of her stomach. She felt her legs shake nervously as his mouth inched lower.

She uttered a sharp gasp as he suctioned his lips on her clit, circling it with his tongue. He worked his fingers in her, pushing them knuckle deep. Y/N subconsciously bucked her hips, wanting to soothe the red hot burning that was building up inside her. Her hands fisted the bedsheet until her knuckles were white. She reached her climax with a pop as Sebastian rode it out, hand still moving gently against her. He climbed on top of her as she pulled his lips towards hers, not caring that she could taste herself on his tongue. He placed a hand under each of her knees, slotting himself between them. His arms were pressed into the mattress on either side of her head.

“Slowly.” He said as he lined himself with her entrance.

He groaned as he bottomed out. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling a sting between her legs. Y/N squirmed under him, trying her best to breathe steadily. Her fingers gripped tightly onto the tender skin of his back. A high pitched moan came from her lips as he reached between them to press his fingers against her little bundle of nerves.

“Seb —”

He nudged her hands from his back and interlaced their fingers, pinning her hands above her head. She rolled her head into his mouth panting. His jaw went slack, his lips just hovering over hers.

Y/N felt her eyes roll to the back of her head as Sebastian pulled one of her knees up to her chest, hitting a different angle inside of her. A heat began to spread through her body. Her words got stuck behind her throat as she felt herself come undone under him. A moan fell from her lips as she came once again.

At the feeling of her walls fluttering around him, Sebastian felt a coil inside him break as he came inside her walls. His head fell to her shoulder as they both rode down from their highs. Y/N let out a breath as he let his full body fall on her. It was comforting despite feeling slightly crushed under him. It felt nice. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, smiling as she felt him kiss her neck lovingly. A smile graced her lips as he rolled off her, wrapping her in his arms from behind. They laid there, letting sleep fall over them. Tomorrow would be different, a good kind different. It was only up from here.

tags:

@lharrietg @carleywhittaker @tonystankschild @headheartbellarke @baebee35 @lady-loki-ren @soap-bubble-nebula @chipilerendi @thekleonablog @gloryekaterina @pspice639

[whump-town]

Stubborn

Everybody taking care of old Hotch because... I don't like it when old Hotch gets left to just die on his own :( don't ask why that's where I draw the line

No pairings

No warnings

In Jack’s second semester of his junior year, Hotch collapses again. He’s home this time, out in his garden under the glaring sun. The day had begun no different than any other. The birds on the powerline chirping and causing their disturbances, as eager for the day to begin as the school-aged children shouting in the street. He’d watched them from the sliding glass door facing the street, his tea warm in his hands. He’d waved at a few, the older ones who recognize him as a mystifying adult with stories to be unlocked. The younger children give him a face akin to a monster’s, his mystery horrifying in their already confusing enough lives.

It’s an hour before lunch. Two hours before Spencer shows up because it’s Thursday and he teaches a class on this side of town every Tuesday and Thursday at 2. One that he occasionally asks Hotch to attend -- as a guest lecturer, as a treat to his students, or just for the company.

He could call just about anyone.

Emily’s downtown, on her way back from a meeting with the Department of Justice. She’d be thrilled for an excuse to not go back to the office and spend an hour or two in his kitchen telling him about those pretentious assholes.

Garcia’s about ten minutes away, working at a nonprofit teaching “at-risk” kids how to code. Being the guiding hand she’d needed as a teenager so that they might not repeat the same mistakes she made. She was lucky, Hotch saved her but he’s not around to catch any more kids like her.

Morgan got hired by a family two streets over to fix up their house before they move in. He’s there now, tearing out rotting beams.

This collapse is not of the life-threatening kind. Not to Hotch at least. There’s no internal bleeding, no emergency surgeries. He doesn’t even need stitches but he’s on so many medications that thin his blood that it’s just on the safer side. From the hospital, he calls who he needs to. Reid first, he’ll worry when he gets to Hotch’s house and sees his truck gone. Then, Jack, it’s better to hear this sort of thing from him and not Emily in half an hour when she needs to yell at someone and who better than the son of the idiot she hates right now? Dave and Emily follow and he trusts them to carry the news the rest of the way. Rather, he simply doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and he’d rather Garcia and JJ and Morgan and everyone else just be mad at him than go on to have another conversation about how he’s feeling.

Fine. He just got light-headed. It was the heat and his perpetually low iron and probably his thin blood (the killer had been his blood pressure but they’re working on that). He just needs to get better about remembering to eat breakfast -- a larger breakfast than just tea and toast. Fainting, he assures Dave, happens. Jack’s seen it happen. The heat makes it worse, the summertime drains him. He’s come in from the garden and gotten weak in the knees plenty of times. He actually moved some chairs around the sliding glass door to the yard, prepared for this exact problem.

This over clarification does not help.

Made only the more complicated when he explains his head is fine. The fainting thing really isn’t a big deal, he just needs a ride home. He’d landed weirdly and pulled his back. He left with a new problem entirely, a torn ligament in his shoulder. That is a problem for a different day.

The surgery is set for the week just before Jack’s finals. Armed with a suitcase full of textbooks, his laptop, notes from this semester (and a few from last), and just enough clothes to recycle a few and still be fine, Jack shows up on his father’s doorstep. “I mean, the hospital isn’t exactly the library… but it’s not the worst place I’ve studied.” It’s far too late to send Jack back but Hotch is reluctant to let him stay. Even if he does prefer Jack be his ride rather than the likes of Penelope and that tiny green eye-sore of a car she drives or leave him to Reid and his defensive, jerky driving.

To the sound of “Aaron Hotchner November 2, 1971”, Jack settles down with his books. He tries to put himself in the right headspace for studying but it’s harder than he anticipated. The constant motion of the room unsettles him and he looks up several times to see his father’s reaction. To gauge the anxiety in his face, in the deep breathes that he pulls in through his nose. In how tight his fists are holding the sheets underneath him. It’s a simple surgery and they’ll be out of here in no time.

“Young” his heart had not handled the heavy sedatives and morphine well. Then again, those incidents are always hard to measure against a thing like this. Rushed into the ER with nine chest wounds and having nearly bled to death, it’s natural to conclude the stress of his depleted blood supply and his very recent trauma had caused his heart to stop on the table. That said trauma was the reason his heart had maintained to be a steady problem up until they released him. Again, when he was brought in with some of the worst internal bleedings the staff had ever seen. His heart had given them trouble too.

Jack is staring blankly at his flashcards when the doctor comes out.

Hotch had gone to Georgetown to be a lawyer like his father and his grandfather. Jack went to Georgetown to get an Art History degree. He was lead by something else. Not chasing some shadow, clutching at a lie he spoonfed himself. Jack didn’t live in anyone’s shadow, never felt the pressure to look and act a certain way. Was never beaten into submission or told to hold his tongue. Jack went to museums every Saturday with his father, preferred them to the aquariums and the zoo. Hotch held him close to the artwork, pushed his dense schedule around to go to new shows, and learned the names of pieces just to recite the knowledge back to Jack.

In his lap, Jack is memorizing pieces of art like his father had years ago for him. He’s stuck on The Anatomy Lesson, eyes glued to the details. The way colorless skin is held in forceps, peeled back to reveal angry red. He can feel the pinching teeth on his own skin, feels the heavy flow of hot blood spilling down over his arm.

“Hotchner?”

Jack flinches, caught completely off guard. He stands, flushing as he tucks his notecards into his textbook, and stands. “Ugh, yeah. That’s me.” He wipes his hands off on his pants, rubbing away the nervous sweat he’s built up.

The doctor recognizes him from earlier. He’d watched Jack and Hotch get out one last goodbye. Jack pulling up a nervous smile, dirty-blonde hair, and light eyes a complete contrast to Hotch’s ever-darkening features. Somehow more solemn, voice taken by the sedatives already working through his body. He hadn’t said a word, eyes vacantly following Jack’s movements but unaware.

Jack expects the same monologue he hears every time. The one that comes out so dry and perfect that they must practice it in front of the mirror, say it softly to themselves as they as they get ready each morning. He’s got it memorized himself -- the bits about recovering in post-op, make a full recovery, and whatever on the fly timeline they give for access back to the room.

“But he’s-- He’s okay? He’s--”

Jack feels impossibly childish. Five years old and Emily’s chilled fingers brushing his tears away, “baby, I know you miss your mommy. But you’re being so terribly mean to your daddy.” He had been, a terrible little monster squirming away from his father and refusing to eat anything. Throwing tantrums about nothing and everything. Screaming and crawling under his bed every chance he got. Pushing himself to the wall knowing he couldn’t be reached.

Now he can remember Hotch just sitting at the edge of the bed. There on the floor for hours. Sometimes he read, would pick up a book, and just start from wherever just to make it so his voice was reaching where he couldn’t. He slept there too, on the hard ground just to make sure Jack knew he was there. Slipped strawberry pop tarts on crazily designed animal plated under there, offered bites of his own food to the darkness under the bed. Sippy cups full of chocolate milk and juice.

He feels like a little boy again, getting news that he has no idea how to handle.

“He’s okay?” Jack stammers. “He’s going to be okay? I can see him?”

Hotch remembers those days under the bed too. Waking up in the middle of the night as Jack groggily curled close to him, still under the bed but crawling under his blanket. The ends of those awful sobs, Jack’s little chest jerking as he hiccuped. The force of his sorrow was too much for his little body. And Jack would fall into his lap, exhausted and needing comfort. His little fingers tracing the scars on Hotch’s face. How he whispered “thank you” and “please” from underneath the bed and how he’d pop his head out to say, “Daddy, I’m going to potty. I’ll be right back.”

Jack’s legally old enough to drink now and Hotch still sees that little boy. The three-year-old wiping his snot on Hotch’s dress shirt. The six-year-old holding his hand and reminding him to look both ways twice before crossing the street. The eight-year-old he left the hallway light on for, old enough now to think he needed to brave the night without a nightlight. So Hotch would offer to keep the hallway light on, not for Jack but for him because he doesn’t like the dark. The ten-year-old sheepishly offering him a father’s day gift he bought with saved allowance, a t-shirt he’s now worn the words off of. The fifteen-year-old curling up beside him on the couch, seeking his comfort but not sure how to ask anymore. The eighteen-year-old as tall as him talking his ear off while he tries to get dinner ready, sticking his fingers in the pan and sitting on the counter.

How did he grow up so fast?

He’s not a little boy anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.

The creaking of a chair moves Hotch’s attention and he looks away from Jack. Away from the sight of his little boy curled up on a cot, drooling onto a pillow and notebook still open, a pen dangling from his fingers. He looks over and Emily’s sitting up, her reading glasses precariously sat on the tip of her nose. “Oh look,” she mumbles. She stretches out, groaning as her joints complain from being held in this miserable hospital chair for hours. “You’ve decided to join the land of the living.”

Hotch watches her fold the thin black frames of her glasses up, gently sits them down by his hand as she stands up. Jack had called her, even though he promised he wouldn’t worry anyone. Hotch didn’t want anyone else coming to the hospital over something so small and though Jack protested that their concern wouldn’t be because he was bothering them but because they love him. The very same reason he’d come home is that people gather after these sorts of things. They need reassurance that he’s alive and he’s just going to have to accept that. They compromised in the end, everyone could come to smother him in worry after he got home from the surgery.

But Jack was scared. He called the only person he could think to, the woman whose role in his life that was never really clear. She’d gotten on him about his grades, smacked the back of his head when he said something stupid, and always let him taste-test her wine at Thanksgiving dinner. Emily knew things that not even Jessica knew and she could be sterner than both Hotch and Jessica and also more relaxed, more understanding. She was always there for both of them, in the same capacity as Jessica and yet her own unique one. A friend Hotch trusted and loved and Jack could understand that. His friends always wanted to know if they were dating and he knew intuitively that the answer was no but he would hesitate to try and explain. But he didn’t understand the gravity that pulled them together, adults and their relationships far too complex to fit it into his simple understanding of love.

He did understand she was the only person to call.

“What’d he do this time?” she asked and knew she was playing the wrong role for the wrong Hotchner because no sooner than she could ask she had an armful of Jack. She sat with Jack for hours, let him get his fear out. Held him while he sobbed, felt pulled to the past. When it was Aaron on her shoulder, terrified he’d lose his son. Life has this very odd way of bringing everything full circle.

“I bet you’re hurting.” Emily moves to the table and pours water into the little paper Dixie cup left by the nurses. “Been right dramatic this afternoon,” she informs him, a dissatisfied matter-of-fact tone in play. “I know you find that to be particularly taxing.” She holds the cup for him, gentle despite her annoyance. She’s close enough to see the iodine on his skin. Dark orange swipes across his pale skin, the smell burns with its strength.

He pulls greedily from the cup, mouth impossibly dry. Stopped only by how little she poured, he sinks back heavily into the pillows behind him. His shoulder hot and angry from forcing himself upright.

“They’re going to let you go in the morning,” she says, sitting back down. He won’t remember this in the morning. Emily holding his hand, whispering thickly how angry she is with him as tears fall down her face. How scared she was getting that phone call from Jack, racing down here to be a composed person to comfort his son thinking her best friend was in the morgue.

He’ll wake up with a pit in his stomach, residual feelings from the night before he can’t tie down to memories. Emily shows no inclination to repeat herself, just coldly informs him that she’ll have Penelope make him a cardiologist appointment (it’s unspoken that no one trusts him to do this himself). Jack walks on glass, close by but terrified of being pushed away. Hotch is too out of it to put up much of a fight, by the time the morning shift has their hands on him he’s silent. Properly dosed up for a ride home and out of his mind.

He’s groggily propped up on pillows, watching Jack and Emily fight over if he has the right to wear shoes or not. Emily wants to hold them captive, he won’t run off or refuse the wheelchair without them and Jack shakes his head, “he’s not our P.O.W, Emily. He’s even going to get that far if he does try to run.” He’s given his shoes but Emily makes a point to collect his cane, holds it while the nurse helps him into the wheelchair. He’s a flight-risk and she’s not going to trust him, he’s run off on her too many times for that.

At the house the other’s have gathered up, having nothing better to do evidently on a Wednesday at ten in the morning. Penelope’s frying eggs and bacon, the carnage it takes to feed their brood spread out on his kitchen counter. Reid sitting on the counter, Hank in his lap, and the two of them watching Penelope. Derek’s on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Savannah learning on his shoulder. Dave’s getting orange juice from the store declared them all lawless, and didn’t trust them to get the right kind.

Hotch is granted his cane to get back inside the house but Emily threatens to kick it out from underneath if he tries anything fast. He smacks her ankle and Jack has to actually step between them to keep them apart. It’s in times like these where Jack finds himself wondering how these two ever had any role in raising him at all.

“Don’t you have jobs?” Hotch asks, hooking his cane over the coat rack and toeing his shoes off. He ignores the hand Emily places on his arm, afraid he’ll knock himself over. He manages just fine, has the whole house set up so that every other step is within arms distance of something to lean on. Fingers trailing the back of the couch he limps past Derek, smiling when Savannah offers a soft “glad you’re okay”. She pats his hand and he nods back.

“Up for some food, sir?” Penelope asks and she’s not taking no for an answer. They might be having heaping servings of eggs and bacon and gravy and orange juice but she’s made two small bowls of oatmeal. She takes the medicine Jack tosses up on the counter, puts it at the end where the rest of his medication sits. “I cut up apples,” she tells Hotch with a wide grin, sliding the bowl in front of him. “Dashed a little cinnamon and sugar in there, it’ll stick to your bones. Keep you healthy.”

He’s at a healthy weight at the moment, not as thin as he leans to when he’s sick but with Hotch, it’s always a good thing to have some collateral weight for the “in case”. Lifting the spoon in his left hand he scoops some of the oatmeal up, doing his best to hide his annoyance at how weak his extremities still are. How his hand shakes under the light strain of the oatmeal. He looks up, watches Spencer carry Hank over to the highchair sitting at the table beside him. He’s distracted so Emily swoops in, takes his spoon from his hand, and tries his oatmeal. He lets her do it. He raises an eyebrow and she shrugs. She likes it. He nods, it’s pretty good.

Hank immediately knocks his spoon on the ground and makes a low whining sound in the back of his throat. “Hop help,” he whines, pointing down at his spoon. His speech is still developing so he pronounces help and hop nearly identically but Hotch understands the difference. He just can’t bend over like that. His right arm is still pinned to his chest in an intricate web of gauze and this sling.

“Reid,” Hotch calls. His voice is deep, strained from intubation and anesthesia. It makes him sound sick. “He’s dropped his spoon.”

Reid nods, he already knows.

Hank points to his shoulder and frowns, “Hop fall down?”

Hotch nods, that is pretty much what happened and at the same time, Emily sweeps in and tickles Hank. She presses kisses to his face and making him laugh loudly. “That’s what happens,” she says. “Hops is just old.” Hank is too distracted by the ongoing attack to defend Hotch not that a toddler rising to his defense is very helpful.

Hotch sighs as Jack comes up behind him, stealing his spoon too. He takes a bite of the oatmeal and deems it nearly as good as the kind that Jessica makes. Hotch wants to be annoyed by it and yet all he does is nod and finds himself smirking just a little.

Penelope calls everyone in for breakfast and Hotch ignores the kisses pressed to his cheek as people drag chairs to the table around him. To the hands that slide over his back, assurance of life he remembers Jack calling it.

Derek slides him a mug of tea, made exactly how he likes it. He sits across from Hotch, close to Hank in case either needs assistance. Emily sits to his left, slides her coffee up beside his tea so he can have some if he’s quick about it. Jack sits beside her and the rest is a blur, too much motion at once for him to take in without his contacts or glasses. Penelope slides a tea plate to him, his medicine on it, and kisses his head while he’s still scowling at the plate.

They don’t leave him alone all day.

He ends up taking a nap with Hank, the toddler’s sticky little fingers holding onto his shirt as he finds himself unable to fight off the effects of the medicine and his full stomach.

He’s squished on the couch between Derek and Dave, forced to watch baseball because he can’t worm his way upright again just yet.

They change the dressings on his shoulder, his teeth clenched tightly so that he doesn’t let anything slip.

At midnight he wakes up on the couch. Jack’s bedroom door is shut, he’s sleeping peacefully inside. His heating blanket is pulled up to his chin, the heat turned up all the way. He can’t remember getting into this state himself but he has a fate memory of JJ helping him move his hand to his mouth, encouraging him to take the pain killers before bed. Of Derek making sure he didn’t just fall straight over onto his side. He manages to find Dave stretched out on the Lazyboy -- the chair he got Hotch for his fifty-something birthday. He’ll wake up in the morning to more food being made in his lonely kitchen, JJ this time. She’ll make blueberry waffles.

If he’d wanted attention, Emily will tease the next morning, he could have just asked. And he didn’t even know he wanted this. He never finds the words to ask for it to continue but every Saturday morning it happens anyway -- his kitchen and living room full of pajamas and suits in varying degrees depending on who has what to do that morning. The fainting thing is not cool but he considers this to be a good trade.

[bokutoslittlebird]

UHMMM EXCUSE ME BUT BOKUTO X ONEE-SAN IS JUST 😳🥵. I'm a different anon from the last one but omg, is it okay to ask more??? Maybe an MSBY Bokuto now or idk what if his onee-san finally gets pregnant (if you're okay with that). Thank yoy so much!

I got like four fics where the reader ends up pregnant I’m definitely fine with writing pregnancy lmao I’ve looked it up so many times I have a notebook of pregnancy symptoms and baby delivery. I do need to start writing down baby names tho bc my computer keeps asking me when I’m expecting

Mission : Corrupting Onee-san ; Bokuto, part 3

Kōtarō was a bit upset a week after the.. incident. You weren’t showing any common signs of pregnancy.

He researched it at least six different times, expecting to match something in your behavior to one of them. Each time he realized you weren’t pregnant, it was hard on you. Well, he was hard on you. Forcing his cock into you while you thrashed and tried to get him off, only to be met with the brick wall that is your little brother. He hardly even noticed you, often off in his own delusions until after he spilled his load into you. Even then, your fucked out face and overstimulated hole always had him raring to go again, this time with his focus on how good you made him feel.

With it being a month into his stay at your house, you wondered if your family would get suspicious about it. When he told you he’d be trying out for the MSBY Black Jackals, it fell into place. That’s why he was staying at your house, with the added bonus of being there if you needed anything. From someone else’s perspective, it would seem like he was a golden child with a heart of gold. In your eyes, you just saw a monster with a goal and determination to see the goal through. Kōtarō never shied from any questions your son had, either. Answering every question quickly and maturely, as if he knew the kid would ask it. He’s able to manipulate you and your son but you can’t do anything to stop him, not when he holds power over you.

Kazuki loves his uncle, his Oji-san a lot. You know he does. He’s always enjoyed visiting your parents’ house to see Kōtarō who would tell him stories, but you find he often lets his adoration for Kōtarō blind him. In his eyes, Kōtarō is a perfect human being and can do no wrong.

“Oji-san?” Kazuki’s little head pops up from under the table. You jump at his sudden appearance, especially if he came from under the table. With Kōtarō having you firmly placed on his lap, you wonder how your son would see the situation.

“Yeah, squirt?” He still smiled at Kazuki, not seeing anything wrong with the situation. Not seeing anything wrong with the way he has a steel grip on your hips and keeps rubbing his hardening cock into your clothed pussy.

“When you both go to bed, why does mommy scream?” Your eyes widen at his question, panicking. How do you answer that? He’s so young—

“Oh! Mommy has some bad nightmares, but it’s okay! I’m there to take care of her!” Kōtarō wraps his arms around your middle, warm hands sliding along your stomach. “Isn’t that right, mommy?”

“Yes, Kōtarō, it—“ your words were interrupted with a shriek, feeling Kōtarō pinch the skin on your hips.

“Mommy, are you okay?!”

“Yes, dear. I’m fine. Uh, daddy just startled me, that’s all.” With the new situation and lack of anyone else, Kōtarō wanted to fully move into the ideal family life. Including his title. Kazuki didn’t bat an eyelash, just nodding and eagerly going to play with his toys. A present from Kōtarō.

“We talked about that, nee-san,” Kōtarō’s breath tickled your ear, a warm tongue licking the shell of it. A shiver went down your spine, feeling his bulge get harder underneath you. “Kazuki needs to see me as a father figure now. Especially since he’ll have a baby brother soon,”

“What makes you so sure it’ll be a boy?”

“I have faith. Need strong boys to protect mommy while daddy’s busy at work,” the talk of you having his offspring has him raring to go, a dark cloud covering his eyes as he ruts up against you. You find yourself face down on the dinner table while Kōtarō eagerly strips off your panties and your jeans. It’s nothing for him to pull his cock out of his sweats, eagerly rubbing the mushroom tip against your folds. Even if your mind and heart don’t want it, that doesn’t stop the slick from pooling into your panties and coating your folds. Your hole is nice and wet for him, ready for his fat cock to split you open.

“Kō, we- we can’t! Zuki-“

“If you keep quiet, he won’t know,” he hisses in your ear, his hand digging into the fat of your ass. It’s a warning to be quiet. Kōtarō usually enjoys your voice, how you scream and beg when he’s filled you to the brim, but now he needs you to be quiet since you’re on the table.

Pushing his cock into you is something he’ll never get tired of. He loves the warm feeling of your cunt and how tight your walls are around him, you’re all sticky and wet, allowing him to slide right in. He doesn’t stop, not for a moment, feeling you holding back your moans as he bottoms out. Even with your hesitance, your body knows he makes you feel good. It has him slapping his hips to your ass while he cages you to the table, pressing you down with his chest. Your nails scratch the table, trying to find something to hold on to when his hands snake up under them, squeezing while he rams into you. It’s enough to squeeze his hands while he brings you to an orgasm, his balls slapping against your clit while your walls squeeze around him, sucking him in.

“K-Kō-chan, I-“

“I’m almost there, hold on, baby,” he whispers, his mouth right next to your ear. You don’t know whether he’s talking to you or the possibility of a child resulting in this, but you find his hips stuttering, a low groan as he stills inside you. Your walls milk him dry, another orgasm as you coat him in your own release. He doesn’t pull out, keeping still inside you while you both come down your high.

“It’s Kazuki’s bedtime. I need to tuck him in,” You break the silence, squirming as the feeling of Kōtarō’s cock in you, and his cum, has become awkward.

“I’ll do it,” he presses a kiss to your hair, removing himself from you. He’s quick to pull your panties and jeans back up, keeping his cum from mostly coming out. “After all, I gotta be a good dad, don’t I?”

With Kōtarō constantly leaving the house for practice with the Black Jackals, he leaves you alone. Taking care of Kazuki was your only chore, really. With Kōtarō earning plenty of money and you having the insurance money from your recently deceased husband and daughter, you were not financially unstable. Most of your money had gone to special pills to prevent pregnancy, making sure you had one each time after Kōtarō spilled inside you. Labeled as vitamins, you easily took them all the time in front of Kōtarō as he didn’t bat an eye. They seemed to work, suspending the pregnancy as each day you turned out and took the test, only one line popping up.

You thought you were safe.

When your vitamins went missing, you didn’t know where to turn. After the table sex and the bedtime routine, you needed those pills. Looking through each cabinet, you couldn’t find it. When you asked Kazuki, he seemed innocent enough. The only possibility was that Kōtarō had found out and taken them out. You had to wait until he returned from practice before you could confront him.

When he finally popped through the door, Kazuki went to go hug him. “Oji-san!”

“Hey, hey, hey! We talked about that, squirt,” a darkness looms in his eyes, but his smile is bright and blinding.

“Sorry, daddy. I’m not used to it,” he looks downright guilty, as if he did something wrong. Kōtarō’s big hand plops on top of Kazuki’s head.

“It’s alright. You’ll get used to it eventually, especially once you have a little brother,”

“I’m gonna have a little brother?!” Bouncing on his feet, Kazuki turned to you. The smile you sported was more of a cringe, but you nodded.

“That’s the plan. Daddy, can we talk?” Kōtarō eagerly follows you, handing a new toy to Kazuki as if he doesn’t have over 20 new toys. Kōtarō doesn’t stop in front of you, rather hugging you close to him as you feel his hardened cock rubbing against your leg. “Kōtarō we need to talk. About serious stuff.”

“If it’s about those Plan B pills, I flushed them down the toilet,”

“Wha- flushed? Those were my vitamins!”

“You aren’t taking anything that risks serious health problems if you don’t take it. Not only that, you’re not under any prescription medications. From now on,” he says, voice low and commanding. Pulling from you, you look into his eyes to see something sinister in them, as if his delusion is becoming tangible. “You’ll be taking what I give to you. No more caffeine, no more wine before bed, yes I know you drink a glass while getting ready, and no more vitamins without my permission. After all, our future is dependent on this.”

With his declaration of claiming you, officially deciding to prevent anything that could stand in his way, you felt sick as you took another test, the single line being joined by a matching one. You couldn’t hide it, you couldn’t throw it away, he’d know the truth regardless. You always showed him negative results, so the test going missing would mean he knew it was positive. Kōtarō waits on your bed — his, too, now — as you weigh your options. With shaky hands, you open the bathroom door as he perks up, his face smiling as if he knew the answer already. With his hair down and still damp from the bath, you see how attractive he is, his muscles flexing as he gets up to see the result. Showing him the plastic piece, he can’t hide his excitement.

“I’m gonna be a dad! You’re gonna be a mommy! Well, we are, but this time for reals!” He’s so excited, it’s easy to find yourself smiling with him, caught up in the excitement. When he puts you down, it’s on the bed and he’s quickly crawling to cage you in. “I say this is cause for a celebration.”

“Kōtarō, what about mom? And dad? And our sisters? They’ll find out eventually, won’t they? We’ll be disowned,” your panicked voice stops him, straddling you as his hand goes to his chin. As if he’s thinking.

“Well, lets just cut ties with them. I’m a member of one of Japan’s Division 1 volleyball teams. I make enough money for us to be stable comfortably, not to mention the money you have from insurance. That way,” he licks his lips, leaning over you again, “I can have you all to myself,”

[firstfullmoon]

what are some quotes that are so visceral they feel like a gut punch to you?

“A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.”

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”

— Ilya Kaminsky, “A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck”

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat, what to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, and who to love, and how to tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong.”

— Phoebe Waller-Bridge, from Fleabag

“Les femmes de notre famille, nous sommes engluées dans la colère J’ai été en colère contre ma mère Tout comme tu es en colère contre moi Et tout comme ma mère fut en colère contre sa mère Il faut casser le fil.”

(The women in our family are all stuck in anger I have been angry at my mother As you are angry with me And as my mother was angry at her mother The thread must be broken.)

— Wajdi Mouawad, Incendies

“I know what I want: an ugly, clean woman with large breasts, who tells me: what’s all this about making things up? I won’t have any dramas, come here immediately!—And she gives me a warm bath, dresses me in a white linen nightdress, braids my hair and puts me to bed, very cross, saying: well what do you want? you run wild, eating at odd times, you could get sick, stop making up tragedies, you think you’re such a big deal, drink this mug of hot broth. She lifts my head up with her hand, covers me with a big sheet, brushes a few strands of hair off my forehead, already white and fresh, and tells me before I fall asleep warmly: you’ll see how in no time your face is going to fill out, forget those harebrained ideas and be a good girl. Someone who takes me in like a humble dog, who opens the door for me, brushes me, feeds me, loves me severely like a dog, that’s all I want, like a dog, a child.”

“I can feel myself holding a child, thought Joana. Sleep, my child, sleep, I tell you. The child is warm and I am sad. But it is the sadness of happiness, this appeasement and sufficiency that leave the face placid, faraway. And when my child touches me he doesn’t rob me of my thoughts as others do. But later, when I give him milk with these fragile, beautiful breasts, my child will grow from my force and crush me with his life. He will distance himself from me and I will be the useless old mother. I won’t feel cheated. But defeated merely and I will say: I don’t know a thing, I am able to give birth to a child and I don’t know a thing. God will receive my humility and will say: I was able to give birth to the universe and I don’t know a thing.”

— Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

“I know that my phrases are crude, I write them with too much love, and that love makes up for their faults, but too much love is bad for the work.”

“I’m restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me. I just don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my flesh.”

“But when winter comes I give and give and give. The excess of me starts to hurt and when I’m excessive I have to give of myself.”

— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

“And that was what I felt when reading your book: that solitude.” “Imagine the solitude of the person who wrote it.”

— Clarice Lispector, from an interview

“suppose the body did this to us, made us afraid of love—”

— Louise Glück, “Crater Lake”

“When I put my hands on your body, on your flesh, I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake, but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency, leaving a gleaming skeleton, gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight, the way your flesh occupies momentary space, the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures, to reach up around my neck, to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

— David Wojnarowicz, from The Half-Life

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

— Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

“and cain said, There’s an idea I can’t get out of my head, What’s that, said abraham, There must have been innocent people in sodom and in the other cities that were burned, If so, the lord would have kept the promise he made to make to save their lives, What about the children, said cain, surely the children were innocent, Oh my god, murmured abraham and his voice was like a groan, Yes, your god perhaps, but not theirs.”

— José Saramago, Cain

“I’d like to jet-ski / straight out of this life because right now I am / way attached to real things like for instance / people how they are all so tender how they / love to just go walk around and someof them are / wearing pink now and it hurts me and they / bathe their dogs”

— Heather Christle, “This Is Not The Body I Asked For”

“The idea of deserving love. And then watching love being given to people who did nothing to deserve it.”

— Anaïs Nin, from her journal

“And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tendernesses, of fondnesses, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last, of believing a parent’s reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“The veals are the children of cows, are calves. They are locked in boxes the size of themselves. A body-box, like a coffin, but alive, like a home. The children, the veal, they stand very still because tenderness depends of how little the world touches you. To stay tender, the weight of your life cannot lean on your bones.”

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

“I know we’ve just met but I feel like maybe / you’d feed me and tuck me into your big bed / and only touch me as you covered me with the comforter.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Party”

“The body has no thoughts. The body soaks up love like a paper towel

and is still dry.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Body And Soul”

“I don’t know how God can bear / seeing everything at once: the falling bodies, the monuments and burnings, / the lovers pacing the floors of how many locked hearts.”

— Kim Addonizio, “The Numbers”

“I keep wishing for you, keep shutting up my eyes and looking toward the sky, asking with all my might for you, and yet you do not come. I thought of you, until the world grew rounder than it sometimes is, and I broke several dishes.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Minnie Holland

“The unknowness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit

“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”

“As for myself, I am splintered by great waves. I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered. I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED GENOCIDE TO STOP I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED AFFIRMATIVE ACTION AND REACTION I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED MUSIC OUT THE WINDOWS I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED NOBODY THIRST AND NOBODY NOBODY COLD I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED I WANTED JUSTICE UNDER MY NOSE”

— June Jordan, “Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.”

“Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night I should go downstairs dump the refrigerator contents on the floor and stand there in the middle of the spilled milk and the wasted butter spread beneath my dirty feet writing poems writing poems maybe I just need to love myself myself and anyway I’m working on it”

— June Jordan, “Free Flight”

“It’s not that I gave away my keys. / The problem is nobody wants to steal me or my / house.”

— June Jordan, “Onesided Dialog”

“What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”

— John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos

“I wept and wept. I had come to believe that if I really wanted something badly enough, the very act of my wanting it was an assurance that I would not get it.”

— Audre Lorde, from “Zami: A New Spelling of my Name”

“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. / Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

— Shauna Barbosa, “GPS”

“It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way. (...) To make up for it. To make up for the fact that it’s me.”

— Suzanne Rivecca

“I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love. I said no more severity. I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad.”

— Richard Siken, Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper

“We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

— Richard Siken, “Snow And Dirty Rain”

“Love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's / terrifying. No one / will ever want to sleep with you.”

— Richard Siken, “Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”

“The hardest thing still remains. It remains the hardest, to bear all the tenderness and only to gaze on.”

— Ilse Achinger, “Mirrorstory”

“i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.”

— José Olivarez, “Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains”

“Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes the men - they come with keys, and sometimes, the men - they come with hammers.”

— Warsan Shire, “The House”

“I’ll take care of you. / It’s rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— Euripides, Orestes, tr. Anne Carson

“We have this deep sadness between us and it spells so habitual I can’t tell it from love.”

— Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband

“There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is.”

— Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays

“I wish I could peel all my sadness in one long strip off my skin & toss it in a bucket. No one would have to carry it. It would just sit there & be punished. It would just sit there & think about everything it’s done.”

— Chen Chen, “Elegy For My Sadness”

“There is too much or not enough room in my stomach for everything we will do to each other.“

— Adriana Cloud, “Bento Body”

[firetextskpop]

Hi , can u do pentagon's reaction when they are doing sex with their wife and suddenly their son / daughter come in to their bedroom bcs they had a nightmare ? I think it would be funny lol ..

A/N: Absolutely! Let’s see how this goes.

PTG when their kids have a nightmare and they were doing the do 

Jinho:

With your wrist pinned above your head and husband pounding into you, it was hard to hear anything but the both of you. Jinho whispered in your ear, “I think Mina would love, a little sibling. Is that what you want love? Another baby.” His words nearly take you over the edge until you hear crying. “J-Jinho, wait. I think she’s up.” Your husband stops his movements and hears the same thing. “Is she in the room?” He asked, pulling out of you and turning around. Low and behold stood your 3 year old daughter. “Fuck.” Jinho mumbled. You hit his arm and began speaking to your child with open arms. “Mina, what’s wrong baby?” She walked over for you to pick her up. “I had a bad dream. There was loud noises. I went to the noise and its here.” You pout your bottom lip at her. “It’s okay princess, let’s get you back comfy. Go to your table and I’ll heat you up some milk.” She nodded and went to her table. Jinho looked at you and started speaking but you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Now it’s Jinho’s turn to pout. “She’s going to your mom’s next week.”

Hongseok:

Seok was very sure he locked the door. So when your 5 year old twins busted in as Hongseok fucked you in the mirror with the camera on, he felt terrible. Immediately He covered you and yelled at the boys not to look. The twins turned around as Hongseok got everything situated. “Okay, Daddy’s sorry for yelling, you can come in now.” He says and the boys came in and hugged you both. “Why are you two up at 3 am?” You asked stroking the younger of the two’s head. “Haneul had a bad dream then scared me too.” Hyunmin said cuddling into your side. “Can we sleep with you please?” Haneul asked with puppy dog eyes, (like his father.) Hongseok nods and tucks them in between you both before telling them a story he made up on the spot.

Hui/Hwitaek:

After a long hard day at work, Hui just wanted to endulge in you. Anywhere, anytime. Being able to take you on the kitchen counter was more than enough for him. When your son walked in with his protective blanket, you know something wasn’t right. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking completely so you began to push off Hui and fix yourselves just in time. “Jisung?” Hwitaek addressed his son and picked him up. Surprisingly, this made you son cry more as he held on dearly to his father. “Talk to me Sungie.” Your husband coddled Jisung. “I miss you daddy, please dont go.” This of course confused Hui. “I think you had a bad dream. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s go to bed” He says and pats your sons back.

Changgu/Yeoone:

Changgu literally just put the kids to sleep. But at the same time he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. The second your bedroom door shut, he ripped off your clothes and began pleasuring you with mouth. Just as you neared our climax, there was a small knock on your door. Quickly you tapped on his head to inform him of this. Changgu sighed before throwing the blanket over your private bits and opening the door. There stood your youngest child with the biggest tears you’ve seen in your life. “I sleep with you please daddy?” She says wiping her eyes. “Absolutely.”

Shinwon:

Surprisingly enough this was your 4th round at it and it was 5 am. You bounced on Shinwon as he tightly grasped your hips. “Fuck, you ride me so well.” He mumbled against your neck. You began to scratch at his chest but then felt a little dip in your bed. Neither of you thought too much about it until you heard a soft sniffle. Both of your attention turned to the 3 year old laying on her side facing away from the two of you. Panic rose in the two of your eyes as you both looked at each other but you moved calmly. Quietly and slowly getting off the bed to put on your under clothes at minimum before sliding back into the bed. When you went to ask what was going on, she already was soundly asleep. You and Shinwon decided not to prompt her on it but join her in sleep.

Yanan:

He finally came home after being on tour and doing shows and you really missed him. Every night leading up to this one, you promised that the day would be all about him. Yanan sat in the chair as you worked your oral magic on him with ice cubes in your mouth. His sensitivity was severely high, so high in fact that his other senses were heightened and he actually heard your 5 year old son come close to the door. “Xiaohui is coming.” He warns you and you immediately pop up as he fixed his pants. Not a second later, your son knocks on the door and you let him in. “Monsters aren’t real, right?” He asks immediately. Yanan chuckles a bit and you shoot him a look. “No HuiHui, but if you want, I can still check the room for you.” You say and push the stray hairs out of your son’s hair. “Please.” He asks and holds on to your wrist.

Yuto:

You both were in the shower getting clean but Yuto looked a little too good under the water. He noticed you staring and started flexing a bit for you. After some teasing and messing around, he began to fuck you against the shower wall. “Come for me babe.” He whispers in your ear and you do just that. In that moment there were 3 loud bangs on the bathroom door. Normally you would be afraid it was an intruder but it was your 7 year old daughter. “What’s wrong Natsumi?” Yuto asked drying off and throwing on his basketball shorts. “Naoki is having a nightmare and keeps talking about some big bug and I can’t sleep.” This wasn’t the first time your son had a sleeptalking nightmare. “Okay, we’ll be there in a minute.” You responded through the door. Once you both were dressed, you went to your sons side with a glass of warm milk.

Kino/Hyunggu:

Hyunggu had you pinned against the couch. Your legs completely spread apart as he rocked his hips into yours. Well explaining how he was a father of 3. “Are you gonna give me a daughter love?” You nodded your head agreeing to anything because, well...he was fucking you so well. His head now buried into your neck. “Dad?” Your oldest asked from behind the couch coming from his room. Kino panicked and sat up to face his child who had dried tears. “Hyunwoo what are you doing up?” He asked nervous. “I had a bad dream..Why are you naked on the couch?” Your 7 year old son asked genuinely concerned. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be there with you in a minute.” Kino responded. “Also where’s-” “Now.”

Wooseok;

It was one of the many nights that you both had pre-planned. The 4 year old should be sleep by 9, wine at 10 and 11? It was time to ‘double your pleasure’. Wooseok held your legs around his head and you moaned around his shaft as he rapidly flicked the tip of his tongue on your sensitive bits. When he began fucking you with his tongue, without thinking, you made attempts to deepthroat him. Wooseok began to growl a bit before spreading you open a bit more. When you both least expected it, the door busted open and there stood your child, sobbing the hardest since he was an infant. Immediately, Wooseok threw you off and pulled up his pants. “Jinwoo?” The child nodded his head. “I had a bad dream.” Seok pouted and looked at you, who was slightly more dressed now. “Can we talk about the bad dreams Daddy?” Jinwoo asked. Wooseok nodded and ushered the child to the kitchen where he fed him food Yanan cooked for your husband’s birthday.