#i want to swaddle him in soft blankets

[dearcharms]

add/ara may be my otp of all otps but i'll be honest, add/eun feels practically canon LOL

[worldwidewerewolf]

Screams into void *I LOVE BAREFACED CHAN!!!!!!!!!!!!*

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[jungkookstatts]

All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last. 

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat. 

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it. 

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch. 

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further. 

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.” 

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again. 

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words. 

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again. 

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted. 

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame. 

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island. 

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly. 

“About?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.” 

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself. 

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps. 

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward. 

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice. 

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.” 

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

[dollwrites]

ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!bff!reader, sex toys mentioned but not used, noise control, dub con technically ( for him… kinda TRUST THE PROCESS ) prank gone wrong for reader lol, creampie, has absolutely no spoilers or deep lore, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. HAPPY 4/20! i was gonna do some dizzy drabbles but i couldn’t get this out of my head. not proofread ( and written when i was in the clouds ) so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

what had started out as a fun prank on your best friend for revenge ended with you completely at his mercy, unbeknownst to him.

picking up around the studio wasn’t something you did too often, considering it a breach of Rafayel’s privacy, but when you got there and he wasn’t home, you let yourself inside like you usually did. you were about an hour early, anyways. you hadn’t taken two steps when you stumble over a pile of crumpled sketch paper. you scrunched your brows as you gazed around your environment. scattered brushes, broken pencils, and a canvas half-painted in the middle of the floor. you sighed; perhaps Rafayel had hit a wall with his muse and had gone for a walk on the beach. the least you could do for him, you’d decided, was to clean up a bit. after all, a clean space is a productive space, right?

that was when you came across it, left carelessly on his bed, swaddled in a sea of white sheets and the comforter. you’d never seen one in real life until this moment, and at first you mistook it for a woman asleep in his bed with her butt sticking out of the blankets— but, it was fake. a plump, nearly life sized ass sitting atop the mattress.

does Rafayel really use something like this?

you found your cheeks heated up with embarrassment when you pictured him mounting it, both of his smooth palm against the cheeks, svelte digits digging into the silicone to spread it open wide enough for him to push inside…

shaking your head to snap yourself out of the fantasy, you look around, making sure no one was around to see you get lost in your own desire for him. “S—stupid.” you muttered to yourself, stepping closer to touch the fleshiest part of it. surprisingly soft, as soft as your own skin. your brow quirks, fingers sliding to the waistband of a pair of cerulean, lace panties that adorned the faux lower body. it seemed so strange to have clothes on something that was meant to stay hidden and used in private, as if the silicone slab had been laid out meticulously…

no, Rafayel didn’t use this for his own pleasure, you decided. this was a prank. an elaborate one, but one meant to fluster you when you came over.

he was such an ass!

“Oh yeah?” you challenge under your breath, grasping the panties and tugging them off of the toy, “You want to play games? I can play, too.” determined to outprank Rafayel, you toss the panties on the bed and stash the toy beneath the bed. it was surprisingly heavy, and made a splat when it hit the surface of the floor, you had to stifle a chuckle as just hilarious this was. you didn’t want him to win, even if he wasn’t there to see it. quickly unbuttoning your pants, you discard them and the panties you were wearing, kicking them under the bed, too. then, you grab the cerulean lace and pull them on— perfect fit! you took a moment to glance in a nearby mirror, turning slightly. your ass had a similar curve and complexion, and you hoped it was enough to fool him, at least long enough for you to scare him when he least expected it. then, you climb into the bed, scrupulous as you nest your top half under a pile of blankets, the pillows resting on the top of your shoulders to hide your head. there was also the issue with your legs. it took a great amount of wrapping sheets around your thighs as you kick and squirm, before you’re finally perfectly positioned— identical to the way he’d left the fake ass, your own sticks out as if inviting him, as you wait for him to return.

at first, it had been difficult to keep yourself from jittering, too excited to see the look on his face when you jump out, effectively one-upping his lewd joke. but, as the minutes ticked on, with your entire body hidden within his bedding, you’d started to sweat, breathing in the dense air trapped under the pillows with you, and you had to readjust several times. it took so long that you were just about to give up on the prank and unbury yourself, before you heard the door open.

showtime.

you felt knots of excitement tying themselves together in your belly as you willed yourself to be as still as possible, and appear as the lifeless, silicone toy.

you could hear him moving about the studio, sighing, and your heart was starting to beat faster in your ears— you hoped that he would hurry to his room, so you could reveal yourself soon, and you could get out from under this suffocating duvet.

when he’d stepped into the bedroom, you hear the door close behind him, and you have to physically keep yourself from kicking your feet in excitement. it was almost time to scare the living daylights out of your best friend. your muscles tighten, ready to jump up, but a sound abruptly stops you.

a zipper.

you freeze, listening silently to the sound of rusting fabric. soft thuds as he kicked out of his shoes, and a whoosh that follows towards the floor.

was he undressing?

your eyes widen only when you hear a heavy breath, followed by the click of a cap. squeezing, then a low moan coming from behind you. it was Rafayel. your eyes widen. you’d never heard such a sound from his mouth, and you had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. the subtle skin slapping that started slow, but sped up shortly after, his breath getting heavier simultaneously. you realized how wrong it was to hear Rafayel pleasuring himself, especially when he didn’t know that you were there. you should really say something, open your mouth and let him know that he wasn’t alone, but when your lips parted, you couldn’t force any sound from it. you were too stunned by these sounds to give him any kind of warning. you listen, mouth agape and eyes big, staring into the headboard of his bed as he takes a few steps towards the foot of it. your mind races, realizing that he had not placed the toy on his bed for you to find it—

this had not been a toilet-humor prank that he was putting together. he simply hadn’t had the time to hide his private toys before you stumbled upon them.

to solidify this revelation, you feel one hand tracing over the shape of your ass. his fingers were warm and slick, and you nearly gasped, sealing your lips just in time for his digits to curl around the panties and tug on them, inching down your thighs. he would definitely discover you were disguising yourself as the toy when he couldn’t take them all the way off, and that thought was equally humiliating and comforting. you didn’t exactly love the idea of him finding out now, after exposing your cunt to him, and now that you’d gotten an earful of him jerking off, but at least things wouldn’t go further. Rafayel doesn’t, however, try to pull the panties down completely. instead, he seems content to leave them around your thighs, and his fingers trace upwards, slowly and skillfully, until they trace your netherlips, slathering your sex in what had to be lube, cool and wet.

oh, god. your top teeth sink into your lower lip as his fingertips swipe full laps between your folds. the pads rub against your most sensitive nub, leaving it throbbing and begging for more attention before they drag downwards, teasing your opening. he didn’t seem to notice that your cunt spasms, attempting to clamp down on his fingers, before they run another lap. he lets out a heavy breath, the sound of his palm smacking against his abdomen as he fucks his own hand in tandem to the way he was unknowingly teasing your pussy making your head spin.

this was so wrong.

you had to tell him right now.

your tiers part once more, this time determined to stop this before—

the swollen, slippery head of Rafayel’s cock rubs against your slit. one hand covers your mouth to keep any sound, words or otherwise, from escaping as you realize that it’s too late to expose yourself now. you’d look like a total creep, taking advantage of your best friend by pretending to be his sex toy. “Huh—uhh…” Rafayel emitted a low moan as he rubbed his dick against you a few more times, before planting one palm on your ass, the other holding tight to his base as he plunged inside.

it took all you had within you to not let out a cry of surprise at the sudden entry. your free hand grips the sheet so tightly you fear your nails will rip holes in it, and your toes curl beneath the mattress. Rafayel had been under the impression that he could be as rough as he wanted, because the pussy was nothing but a silicone replica, and so his rhythm was steady, deep pumping almost immediately upon bottoming out in your guts. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hips thumping against your ass, both hands grasping at it. “F—feels good… yeah,”

he was right about that, and you wished you could vocalize it. your walls fluttered about in delight as he pounded into you, his cock was longer than you’d thought it would be, the tip bold in its deep exploration, prodding against your g-spot with every, full thrust of his hips. you fought the urge to bounce back, meet his movements with equally eager grinding. instead, your eyes began to roll and your lids flittered, and the grip on your own mouth tightened to keep any of your stifled mewls and whimpers from escaping. you couldn’t, however, keep from gushing when he hit the perfect depth with his fervent stroking, and you could only hope that his thorough drenching you in lubrication would be enough to mask this.

you could hear him panting, moaning, swearing, as he fucked you with reckless abandon. his fingers digging into your warm, satin skin, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you. it was as if you felt every, single vein as they rub your walls, autographing your insides, claiming them as his as he uses you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…!”

he was getting louder, his hips bucking more powerfully, more erratically, and the throbbing in your core was a testament to just how close to cumming he was.

you knew how wrong this was, but all rational thinking was dissipating; you were enjoying being fucked like this; greedy, careless pounding, by your closest friend too much to ruin it, now. you didn’t want to stop it, not until he was fully satiated.

“F—fuck, yeah,” Rafayel swoons, grabbing full fists of your ass, pulling your ass back to meet his hungry hip-snapping, “more, more, more!”

you couldn’t take much more, and you push your face into the mattress to keep quiet, both hands scrambling to hold on to something, squeezing the edge of the mattress with your nails sinking in— anything to relieve the pressure he was forcing as deep into you as he could. your feet wanted to kick, your back wanted to arch, and you wanted to scream out in pure pleasure, so you clung to the bed as tightly as you could in hopes that you could ride out the orgasm he was ripping from you.

he didn’t even seem to notice your twitching and subtle squirming beneath the blankets as he made you drop off and come undone, which you were thankful for, because he was too caught up in chasing his own high. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Rafayel was sputtering, desperately trying to get there, pressing all of his weight against your ass as he pumps a few more, deep and hard, thrusts into you before he grunts, and releases. as if he’d been pent up for quite a while, you felt a spattering of warmth, and then it spreads as he fills your belly with his essence. you nearly lose it in this moment, and almost blow your cover, your walls clamping down on his cock as he starts to retract. it felt so good to be full of Rafayel that you didn’t want him to pull out, but he does so with a ragged moan. there’s an uncomfortable emptiness that follows his abandoning of your cunt, the feeling of being fucked deep and left there, your oblivious best friend’s cum dribbling out of your used pussy as it twitches and your muscles stay tense. you knew you were leaving a small puddle on his sheets below you, but you could hear him milling around the room instead of focusing on you, now.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, and you his phone unlock, then the rapid-fire tapping of his fingers on the keys. was he… texting?

you were answered when you heard the faint vibrating of your phone in your pants pocket, hidden under the bed. he texted you?! at first, you think he must’ve heard it, because everything went silent, and you waited for him to start shouting, but he doesn’t.

a few moments later, the door opens, and his footsteps fade as he swaggers down the corridor, satiated, and a moment later, you hear the shower turn on.

for the first time in several minutes, your muscles relax for a moment, before you swim out from your heated prison in a hurry, scrambling under the bed to grab your phone. every move you made, you could feel his release swirling around inside you and dribbling down your thighs, and you groan at the sensation, and the trail you made before you pulled the panties up to keep any more from leaving evidence. staring at the screen, panting and fucked out, your eyes barely focusing, you read the message in disbelief.

just woke up so i’m running late. stop on the way and buy lunch or something i’m starving

liar.

but you didn’t have time to dwell on the message; you get dressed as quickly as you can, what with your legs trembling like shaken jelly and your insides sore from Rafayel’s eager plowing, and hoist the fake butt back into place on top of the bed. you had to make a stealthy exit before he got out of the shower. stuffing your own panties into your pocket, you decide the best way to avoid an even stickier mess on his floor that would certainly be noticeable, you had to wear the panties meant for the doll. you could only pray he didn’t realize they’d gone missing right away, and later today when you could sneak away to the bathroom, you’d put them back in place.

so, stumbling and trying to catch your breath, freshly fucked, you leave through the sliding back door, the one that faces the shoreside, and closes it behind you to complete your escape.

once outside, you exhale deeply, lean against his car, hidden from windows’ views, to evaluate the damage, beyond the mess of him in your panties. you groan, covering your face with both hands in belated guilt.

you could never, ever tell him about this!

[chriscamopants]

TEEDY BEAR

Summary: after a visit to see your neighbour Darrel’s new born baby girl, Matt is so in awe of her that he decides to exercise an age old kink he has on you later that night.

‘Oh- my god’ Matt squeaks with his mouth parted slightly and a twinkle in his eye as soon as your neighbour’s baby girl is dropped into his awaiting arms. The pastel pink blanket swaddled around her squirming body falls gently over Matt’s cradling hand, he automatically starts to bounce her.

This almost makes Matt swoon. He struggles to hide his peep of delight at the baby’s action, his smile splitting his cheeks whilst his eyes quickly flick down to yours.

You smile happily up at him, knowing how long he had been waiting to see your neighbour Darrel’s newborn. As soon as you told him Darrel’s wife had birthed a healthy baby girl he had constantly been pestering and poking you to take him to go and see her.

He had been talking about it all morning and as soon as you two had entered the threshold of Darrel’s house he had been practically bouncing off of the ceilings to have a go at holding her.

‘So I take it Lily didn’t disappoint your expectations then?’ Darrel chuckles whilst Matt slowly rocks the blanketed baby from side to side, looking at her with an adoration that only comes from a man that wants one of his own. He then repositions her within the nest of his arms so that he can lift one of his hands up to poke his pointer finger out.

‘Ahw she’s so small’ he coos in disbelief.

Softly feathering his fingertip against Lily’s little appled cheek, he traces it around her soft skin, tickling her face until her nose scrunches and she opens her mouth to babble sleepily.

‘Isn’t she just’ Darrell sighs.

Matt felt as though he could just melt into a puddle of pink joyful goo, he never wants to let go of the small child, he’s in too much admiration over how little she is.

The tiny pink shells of her lips, her soft head of blonde hair, and her whispy little eyelashes. All of these features make him subtly glance back down to you, his sweetly mature girlfriend. He bites his lips at the ‘what if?’ possibilities he fantasises in his head.

It’s almost concerning how easy it is for Matt to imagine Lily as his own baby girl gently balanced within his protective arms like a smooth little pebble worth treasuring. He utterly adores her as he stands in his white sweater and grey beanie, the weight in his arms as light as a feather.

When a person wants something, it’s easy to tell, because when you look at what you want there always seems to be this sharp tug in your gut that lets you know how desperately you want it.

Well… Matt’s heart squeezes, and his gut contorts at yet again another action of the sweet baby girl within his arms mumbling and then tilting her head to the side so that she can snuggle further back into the blanket surrounding her.

Matt really fucking wanted a baby.

‘She really is’ you decide to chime into the conversation, agreeing with an awestruck Matt that looks as though he’s on the verge of tears because of how cute Lily is. You know that Matt absolutely adores children, so the sight alone of his sunny beam down at Lily’s chubby face makes your posterior soften. You blush at the look of him effortlessly cradling the baby within his arms before subtly squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip.

Fuck.

This shouldn’t make you throb in between your legs as much as it does.

‘Oh that reminds me, Matt and I thought it would be nice to buy Lily a little welcome home present…’ you begin again, trying to distract yourself by catching Darrel’s attention. You lean over from your position on the couch to riffle around in your bag, until you find what you’re looking for. ‘Ah, here it is!’ you mumble triumphantly and wrap your fingers around the soft furry body of the little teddy bear Matt had insisted on buying for Lily.

‘Can we please get her a teddy’ he had begged you the day before, with sparkling eyes and a pout that you just couldn’t refuse.

So you had both gone down the stuffed animal isle of a store and Matt had let you pick out a small brown bear with beady black eyes and a button nose before taking it with him and happily going off to pay for it whilst instructing you to go and wait for him in the car.

Later that day you had wanted to personalise it and so decided to go to the dollar store and pick up a roll of pink ribbon, cutting off a strip and tying it around one of the teddy’s arms into a sweet little bow.

Your smile only increases the more you pull it out of the bag because of just how adorable it is. You had been itching to give it to Darrel for a while now.

As soon as he realises what it is, his eyes soften. ‘Oh goodness, you two didn’t have to do that, it’s lovely…’ he gushes, reaching out to take the teddy bear from your offering palms, to which Matt can’t help but crack a smile at your pretty face.

He cuts into Darrel’s rambling to put him at ease. ‘It’s alright- we wanted to do this for you guys, Lily deserves all of the teddies in the world! Don’t you honey?’ He affirms, before cheesing as he looks down at Lily to speak to her in a high-pitched babied voice, the kind of voice you would use when speaking to a puppy.

‘Really. It’s very nice of you, I’m sure Lily will love it… might have to wait till she gets a bit bigger to actually understand what it is though…’ Darrel cracks a joke, and both you and Matt laugh fondly. However, the vibrations in Matt’s chest manage to wake Lily up, and she opens her big doe eyes sleepily to look up at Matt in confusion.

This catches Matt’s attention and he gazes down at her, admiring the glassiness of her irises before gently shushing her and rocking her back to sleep.

‘Well what d’ya know Matt… you’re a natural, mind babysitting with your girlfriend every once in a while? Could use the help’

Both you and Matt make excited eye contact, not much persuasion needed to take special care of the tiny little angel lying in Matt’s arms.

‘We wouldn’t mind at all Darrel…’

*

You and Matt have been quietly laying in bed for a while now, one of his bedside lamps twinkling on a low setting as he sleepily rests his head on top of yours. He spoons you, his warm chest cozy and his bigger arms cocooning you into him further as his massive palms splay about either side of your ribcage.

You have your eyes closed, fully relaxed as Matt threads his haired legs in between your smoothened ones, his bearded face scratching your cheek every single time he squirms around ever so slightly to reposition himself.

The room is silent aside from the subtle squeaks of his springy mattress underneath his weight and each of your gentle breaths mingling with one another.

Suddenly Matt’s chest expands, and he heaves a deepened sigh, his cheeks reddening shyly at the thought he conjures up in his mind. He’s suddenly really quite horny, and the quietness within the room prompts him to start thinking about the hold he currently has over your body, and what he could be doing to it instead.

The atmosphere in the room turns hot, and Matt almost starts to overheat because his cheeks burn so much. He swallows thickly and allows his mind to wander, electrical pulses making their way down his lower half and tightening up his pants.

You of course, are oblivious to this sudden change in mood.

That is, until Matt starts to feather one of his stroking hands down your torso ever so slightly. It tickles, and his hand raises goosebumps wherever it touches, especially when his pinkie subtly nestles its way into the top of your panties, dipping downward before pulling back out and snapping the elastic waistband onto your skin suggestively. You catch on to this and furrow your brows with playful suspiciousness.

‘Matt… what are you doing?’ You muse cheekily, already clearly know what his intentions are because now you can feel his prick, its thickness hard and needy for you as it presses into your backside.

Matt doesn’t answer, instead lets out a shaky breath and simply leans his scratchy face back into your cheek to press a spongy kiss onto the now pink skin.

As he does this, the hand down at your core sensually slides over your underwear.

Matt bites his lip as he feels warm dampness already emanating from your centre when sliding two of his fingers down into the cushion of your thighs.

He touches you, slowly, teasingly, rubbing the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he presses them into your clothed clit. This makes your folds ache, and you hiss, arching your back away from him. But Matt grunts at this and still manages to keep his torturous hand all over you, his other arm tightening around your torso and hauling you back to him aggressively.

‘Shhh, you stay put now angel’ he hushes, mumbling into your skin as you whine meekly, one of your hands coming up to squeeze the arm that is slithered around your chest whilst the other one grapples to grip onto something below Matt’s silky brown sheets. That thing you yearn to grab onto just so happens to end up being Matt’s thigh, that is clothed in his red pyjama bottoms.

You squeeze his strong muscle and feed your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it.

You then feel his smirk on your cheek as his hand begins the horrifying descent back upwards. This time, it slips underneath your underwear. ‘If you can’t hand my fingers I dread to think of how much of a mess I’m gonna make of you with my cock…’

Your breath hitches as two of his fingers slide right down your sticky slit, gathering up as much wetness as he can before stretching out your hole. This time instead of hissing, you let out a breathy moan.

‘What? Not got anything to say back to me baby?’ He taunts you when you refuse to even think about trying to formulate a proper sentence after the soft curl of his fingers around your velveteen walls. He strokes them at a languid pace.

Matt sighs when all you do is breathe heavily, ‘you’re so soft around my fingers honey… gonna feel so fucking nice around my cock too, aren’t you?’.

Your toes curl at Matt’s sweetened praise, his worship of your physicality smelling like strong vanilla scented candles and melting over your body like a dollop of sugary ice cream.

Matt loves to praise you, you’re always so good for him, and he would spend hours with his head in between your thighs just to show you how much he loved you if he could.

Kiss after kiss, his tongue layering up your dripping centre as he forces his fingers into your mouth to swallow how loud you’re being with his eyes constantly trained on just how euphoric he’s making you feel.

‘Fuck- y-yes Matt, m’always ready for you…’

You finally muster the words to express how you’re feeling, and they tumble from your mouth like a broken melody, the result of them making Matt grin even harder. He’s feeling especially bold tonight, the memory of bouncing Lily on his hip still fresh in his mind and prompting him to relay his fantasy freely onto your awaiting figure.

Suddenly, he’s sliding his fingers out of their teasing hold over your sopping wet cunt, before moving away from you and rolling you onto your back.

Matt hungrily licks away at his fingers whilst doing this, wanting to taste you whilst you’re at your freshest and untainted by him.

The sight before him makes his prick drip with precome, sticky white fluid uncontrollably seeping from out of his tip as soon as he catches how pink and alive you look. It wets his underwear and almost makes him shiver, the thought of devouring you right then and there.

Sliding your shirt up for himself, he peers down at your tits to see that your nipples have already hardened just for him, the cooler air helping with their stiffness. Matt’s mouth waters at the sight of them.

‘Hmm, holding that baby today really got me thinking about how pretty you’d look with one of mine…’ he breathlessly mumbles, dipping his head down to suck on your bottom lip. His hands soon after slip up to cup just beneath your tits that pebble and ache to be coated in his spit.

You utter a quick whine of approval back at him, your own hands trailing up his goose-bumped flesh to touch the soft scruffiness of the hair on the back of his head.

He smirks at your responsive nature. ‘Yeah? Want me to give you my babies? Fucking fill you up and keep my cock in there n’breed you?’.

Matt’s cock throbs at even the thought of this, the thought of rutting his hips into you so fast that you start to drool with your tits shaking and your back arching for his cum. The cum that he’s going to have you absolutely swollen with by the end of the night. He doesn’t want a single drip leaking out of your hole, he’ll cockwarm you if he has to, simply to hold it in there with his own slickness.

‘Please Matt… you can- you can do whatever you want to me’ you shamelessly plead, the heat between your thighs juicing up and wetting your panties, already readying you for him. He smirks at this, his pretty blue eyes twinkling as he gives your mouth one more sloppy kiss before moving downward.

‘Fucking gorgeous’ his mouth muffles upon contact of your tits as soon as he decides to take one of them into his mouth and wetly kiss on it ‘gorgeous tits… all for me yeah? All mine?’ He questions possessively, one of his hands curling around your spare breast and squeezing it wholeheartedly.

‘All yours Matt- all fucking yours’ you reply in a breathless stupor, liking the way he sucks your tit and gently rolls around your nipple with his hot tongue.

‘These tits gonna be for my baby hm?’ He questions patronisingly after pulling away from your now sticky skin, a couple of purpling marks bruising to the surface of your delicate flesh where his mouth just hadn’t been able to help itself.

Your back arches and you hum a whine in agreement, vigorously nodding your head before letting Matt roll you two around so that now your thighs are gently straddling him and he is leaning against the headboard of his bed, the silk sheets underneath you two making him slump downwards a little.

Wanna make you a mommy so bad… would you do that for me? Take all of my cum and keep it? I want you to be selfish with it baby…want you to be greedy for more of it’.

It’s no secret that Matt has a smooth tongue.

You two spend hours rolling around in the sheets, playing with each other as he makes sure to utilise it in whatever way he possibly can. But, for some reason his words have been hitting extremely different tonight. As though he has flipped a switch and pulled out all of the stops to lay it on extra thick.

Clearly, that time with you and Lily earlier had affected him in the most filthiest of ways.

Matt has shared words of breeding you before, but never to this extent, and you hate to admit it, but fuck does it soak you more than usual. Maybe just both of you being around the baby this morning makes it all seem extra real as he starts to roll your hips into a grinding motion over his bulge, but whatever it is, it’s working.

Both of you hold blushing eye contact as Matt does this, his mouth hung open and his eyes dilated. Fuck. You can physically feel the throbbing heartbeat sitting from in between his legs as he harshly grinds you over himself and releases raggedy whimpers into the air. You can tell he’s pent up, he needs you terribly, he wants you selfishly. He would fucking die for a feel of your walls sucking against his naked skin, it’s all he’s ever yearning for.

‘I want your cum Matt… please- please give it to me’ you freely beg, your head tilted down to look at him as the heated atmosphere boils in between the two of you. Your tits quickly become a focal point of interest for him before you get up off of his lap to speedily take off your slick underwear.

You toss them somewhere into Matt’s room and hear the fabric hit the floor gently. Matt gazes at your frantic figure with some form of satisfaction, his smugness evident due to the way you had absolutely begged for his cum.

He tilts his head and observes the way you clamber back onto his thighs, your hair all tussled and your skin lighting up with honeyed brilliance in the warm lamp light, casting beautiful contours all over your tits.

‘There’s a good girl’ he quips, before giving in to your expectant hands that wander alongside the waistband of his pyjamas. He simply cannot resist your puppyish eyes that stare at him to take them off. He lifts his hips up and feeds one of his hands into both his pants and underwear that teasingly travel downwards at a slow pace.

After Matt’s cock springs free, it careens back to hit his stomach and leave a wet dribble of precum near his dark snail trail. His tip is red and the veins popping over his thickness almost hurt to look at.

You swallow and start to shyly edge your way forwards, but not before leaning over to look inside of his bedside drawer. Your attention is focused on trying to rifle around Matt’s things, but he only has eyes for you, and can’t help but quickly lift his hand up to his lip line so that he can spit a thick dollop of saliva onto it.

He spreads it all over his cock and whimpers a little at how sensitive he feels whilst your hand skirts over the outline of his car keys, his rings, his wallet… until you find exactly what you’re looking for. Selecting a foil wrapper out of the drawer you messily close it once again with your chest heaving and a dewy layer of perspiration coating it.

Your weepy centre stings now, because it hasn’t been touched for a while, and you can’t squeeze your thighs together for traction because you’re currently straddling Matt’s.

You hand him the condom wrapper and he closes it within his thumb and pointer finger, before looking down at it in contemplation. After taking about 3 seconds of silence, he looks back up at you with a smirk, your hands already propped up on his shoulders for support.

You watch in horny silence as Matt effortlessly chucks the condom away. ‘We’re not gonna need one of those’ he quips as the wrapper patters gently to the mattress, now completely forgotten about in favour of Matt wanting to feel everything.

You didn’t think it was even possible to get wetter in attraction, but you were wrong.

Butterflies press against your gut as one of Matt’s hands slither up to the back of your neck. His fingertips thread into your locks and he gets a firm hold over the roots of your hair before dragging you down to have your lips on his once again.

He forces his tongue into your mouth, his desperation present with every stuttering moan he takes as he somehow manages to push you onto your back, his torso toppling over yours to change the power dynamic between the two of you once more. His fluffed hair is ruffled and bushy, his beard dark and prickly as it scrapes against the skin of your face with every twist of his tongue.

‘Always so pretty when you’re wet for me sweetheart, want my baby to have your eyes’ he mumbles through every clash of your teeth, kissing you so vigorously that sometimes he has to bite and pull on your bottom lip. He drinks you like he’s desperate for water, and you’re the only cold spring around- not that you complain though.

These thoughts only make your back arch up into his stomach, your core beyond desperate to be stretched out by him now.

‘Matt… please touch me baby- m’so sore’ you cry up into his lips, meekly pleading for him to comply and give you what you need.

And he does. Pulling away he smirks at you before trailing his nose down your jaw and focussing his kisses onto your neck. He sucks on the supple flesh there, and as he does so, makes sure to grasp ahold of his prick so that he can paint it all the way over your pink clit.

You suck him in, and his hot skin cushions perfectly around you.

He fucking loves stretching you out like this and listening to the way you let out mangled sounds of discomfort, it lets him know he’s big and it strokes his ego when you whine in pain because of how full you feel.

‘Shit… I’m never gonna get used to that…’ your voice shakes with your nose scrunching up sensitively, but Matt hushes you gently. ‘Shhh baby… I know, I know it hurts, but you’re being such a good girl, love when you let me know how nice and thick I am’.

You nod, trying to only pay attention to the way Matt soothingly strokes the backs of your thighs with his fingertips as he pushes himself deeper into your throbbing heat.

Matt makes sure to hitch them around his hips and hook your legs over his back so that the balls of your feet can brush against his ass, because it stretches your inner thighs out further.

Matt fucking lusts the colour your cheeks turn whenever he fucks you, especially on a day like today. He groans as an overwhelming amount of pleasure overcomes him.

Neither of you are lasting long for this, that he already knows.

‘Fuck- I’m never wearing a condom again with you. You feel too good wrapped around me like this’ he whimpers, and slowly begins to start up a grind. He adores the way your chin falls back in euphoria as he starts to move you on the mattress, your thighs twitching and your slick walls stroking perfectly against his stickiness.

Your eyes twinkle up at him, his words managing to almost melt you on the spot. It’s not long before he picks up the pace, his breathing rate increasing and becoming more of a breathless pant.

You almost drool at the speed of his frantic hips and can’t help but struggle a moan after every time you feel him press against your g-spot.

‘Fuck baby… if you’re not careful imma hide your birth control pills n’breed you properly. I’ll tie you up and keep you in here until I’ve fucked you enough to see that baby in your stomach’.

Matt is 100% serious at this statement. The feeling of not wearing a condom with you easily becomes one of his new favourite things as he gets drunk on the oxytocin it gifts him.

Tears almost stream from your waterline at the statement, your back now permanently arched and begging for his cum. It’s as if those words coated in pure filth just did it for you, because soon after they’re uttered and Matt reaches down to start playing with your clit, you feel an orgasm dawning over you.

It sparks and bubbles like an undulating wave that gets even stronger after every time it crashes against the walls of your gut. Your breath hitches.

‘Matt I- I think I’m gonna cum’ you struggle up to him, and Matt nods quickly, his mouth dropped open and his hips getting sloppier the more his skin erotically slaps against yours. ‘M-me too’ he stutters, his whole entire body drenched in the sweat of his efforts.

Your orgasm rattles from your stomach all the way to your ribcage, melting over your body like a psychedelic dream before you hear Matt also whimpering loudly into your ear. His forehead crashes down to hit against your collarbone and his arms shake as he too feels the phenomenal rush of his orgasm.

As he continually ruts his hips at a lazy pace, he makes sure to fill you up with all of his thick ropes of cum, the slimy hotness of it drenching both his cock and your walls with an ample amount. Finally, after feeling like he can go no more, his hips relax and slow to a stop.

Both of you pant tiredly as you trail one of your hands up to Matt’s head just so that you can appreciatively stroke it, his cock still comfortably stuffed inside of you.

As far as Matt’s concerned, he’s not moving it an inch because if he does, the cum still coated on it would come dripping out of your spent hole with part of it still strung onto his head and your folds like a string of saliva connected by two pairs of lips.

‘You keeping your cock in me?’ You muse to him sleepily, but with a tone of playfulness as you regain your breathing and stare up at Matt’s ceiling.

You can feel his gentle smile curling against your skin.

‘Wouldn’t want to get our cum all over my bedsheets now would we?’ He responds in just as playful a manner.

‘No, we wouldn’t…’.

@gamermattsgf

[luvjunie]

heyyy, idk if your request or open atm but could you write about miles (e-42) sneaking into the readers house at night, to hangout 🤗 nothing nasty LMFAOOO but like a cute lil moment

— 2:00 AM

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: fluff, miles being a big baby because yes

summary: miles has a hard time falling asleep when you’re not next to him. wc: 1,205

a/n: i loveee soft 42!miles omfg 😭 also i realized i changed up the plot a little after i’d already written it and came back to find the request, so i hope you still like it <3

Tossing and turning instead of getting a full night’s rest seemed to be the norm for Miles as of late.

He laid on his back with an irked sigh, hands scrubbing down his face as he lightly groaned into them. There was no need for him to check the time, he already had a pretty accurate guess seeing as he’d been checking his phone every twenty minutes when his eyes would spring back open after another failed attempt to fall asleep.

He missed you. That he couldn’t deny. He’d made the mistake of falling asleep with you one night, and he’s found himself suffering through the same old routine ever since. He’d never slept as peacefully as he did than when he was next to you, and his mind craved your presence more than it craved sleep apparently. The both of you could’ve slept on concrete and he still would‘ve sworn it was more comfortable than his own bed.

It was a stupid idea, and had he not been desperate for a solution he would’ve realized that. But there was no one to talk him out of it as he got up from his bed and fished around in his dimly lit room for his jacket and a pair of nike slides, so it looked like he’d be going through with it anyway.

He scribbled a quick note for his mom onto a post-it note, stuck it to the fridge for her to find after her shift and left their apartment without another thought, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Night walks through Brooklyn didn’t scare him, in fact they calmed him. Everything was quieter at this time, slower— and he knew these streets like the back of his hand. And even if he didn’t, he was pretty good with the switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Your place was only a few blocks away, and even through the slight haze casted over him from his lack of rest, he was still vigilant as ever.

He climbed the fire escape just three stories up until he got to your window, using both his hands to hoist him over the steel railing, his feet landing on the old metal as quiet as he could make them.

He hoped that you still kept it unlocked for him, that your offer stood firm when you told him he was welcome anytime. He whispered a plea before he curled his fingers under the edge, sighing in relief when the window lifted open, though the unpleasant squealing due to the age of the pane made him wince.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake you, so he only lifted it halfway, ducking down and stepping into your room and out of the cold. He glanced over to see your cheek still smushed against your pillow, your legs probably tucked into the fetal position with the way your blankets were swaddled around you.

He managed to close the window without making a sound, but on his way over to your bed he accidentally bumped into your dresser, causing a bottle of perfume to clatter into the other objects you had up there.

“Fuck—“ he hissed quietly, twin braids following the act of his head whipping in your direction when you stirred.

You weren’t the lightest sleeper, but the noise had been enough to startle you awake. Lifting your head from the pillow, you sat up quickly, eyes adjusting to make out who the hunched figure was. The two of you had said goodnight just a few hours ago, and now here he was, in your room.

”Miles?” There was a slight rasp to your voice.

“Hey, ma…” he responded, hands nervously hovering over the mess he’d unintentionally created. He fixed it to the best of his ability, but it definitely wasn’t the way you had it before.

You reached over and turned your clock towards you, the bright white numbers making you screw an eye shut.

“Miles, baby, it’s two am in the morning,” you grumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands and yawning. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

Blinking the sleep from your sight, you took in his slightly slouched disposition. He looked exhausted, annoyance from his sleepless night evident in the way he sighed.

”Nah, nah,” he shifted from foot to foot, hand hesitantly raising to scratch his head. His idea seemed sensible at first. He was willing to do anything to get some shut eye, and to see you again, but now he just felt silly for waking you up for no good reason.

“Nothing happened, but I—I couldn’t sleep for shit. So I just thought—“ he rubbed his brow and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know, it’s stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I just wanna be laid up with you. I really didn’t mean to wake you up and I can leave if—“

“It’s okay! It’s okay,” you cut his rambling short and opened up your blankets, scooting over to make room for him. “Come on.” Even in your drowsy state you could tell he was getting flustered trying to explain himself.

“Oh thank God,” he said beneath a breath as he shuffled his jacket and shoes off, eagerly slipping into your bed beside you.

You shifted back onto your side like you were before and pulled the blankets over the both of you, his arm instantly slinking around your waist to pull your body into his, your back against his chest.

“I love you so much.” he sighed tiredly.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in through his nose just as your hand came up behind you to caress the top of his head. His behavior made it seem as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks; like he was trying to refresh his mind of every aspect of you.

“I love you too… Miles, are you sure you’re alright?” you asked, not yet all the way convinced.

“Mhm. Just needed to be with you.” he hummed, his words muffled as he pulled you closer.

“What about your mom? I don’t want her to be worried.”

He grunted at that, his response slurred and barely audible. “She know where I’m at.”

His fingers slipped under the waistband of your cotton sleep-shorts, hand traveling to the round of your lower stomach and resting over it. Why guys were so obsessed with the extra weight girls held there was still an anomaly to you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, but he always threw a fit if you didn’t let him hold you like that so you allowed it.

“Goodnight, Miles.” You murmured into the stillness of your room.

Your eyes opened after receiving no response from him, and you were barely able to turn your head to look over your shoulder since his own was occupying the space there.

“Miles?” you questioned gently.

Your answer came in the form of faint snores and slowed breathing from the boy who was knocked out behind you, a smile inching onto your lips at how quickly he dozed off. You let your eyes flutter to a close, ready to fall asleep again, but this time in the arms of your favorite person.

[the-fiction-witch]

Would you want to marry me Benji?

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Benjicot Blackwood Couple - Benjicot X Reader Reader - (OC) Y/n Mason (Misc house) Rating - Cute Word Count - 2237

Writer notes - I have not yet seen S2 I am going to watch it when all Episodes are out to the public. but he was requested so so much I have Wikied Him, I have done research I have watched the scene. But this is my first Benjicot Fic, I haven't seen the show yet, so Please I beg. Be kind to me. 

Y/n sat cradled by the roots of house Blackwood's fabled weirwood heart tree, shaded from the autumn sun by the busses of red leaves grown in for the long cool winter, She wore a gown of deep grey with red and black accents, her dark curls in a long intricate braid down her back littered with leaves made from copper as jewellery, a matching copper locket around her neck, She hums a soft and gentle tune a bundle of cloth in her lap as she slowly embroiders

A soft smile crossed Benjicot's face when he sees her there, He slowly approached her, his boots crunching on the leaves. "Y/n," Benjicot said softly. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Enjoying the afternoon is all my lord," she answered sweetly,

"Are you not lonely, all alone by this tree? Would you not like some company?" Benjicot said with a grin on his face, sitting down beside her against the roots,

"I'm never lonely my lord, with the gods to keep an eye on me" she smiled glancing at the tree-carved face, "but I suppose company wouldn't be ill wanted,"

Benjicot gave a hum in agreement, looking up at the Weirwood as well, before shifting his gaze back to her. "I'm sure the gods are a wonderful company, but they cannot offer you witty banter."

"I suppose not my lord" she nodded,

"Then I can consider my presence a blessing from the gods themselves," Benjicot said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He leaned closer to her, his arm brushing against hers.

"Absolutely my lord" she agreed,

Benjicot chuckled, enjoying the feeling of her being so close to him. He was quiet for a moment, their shoulders touching, before speaking again. "What are you embroidering?" He asked, peering at the bundle of cloth in her lap.

"A gift, my elder sister sent a raven to me this morning. She is with child, I wanted to make a her a gift for the babe,"

"That's wonderful," Benjicot said, a warm smile on his face. "A gift is a thoughtful gesture, I'm sure she'll appreciate it greatly." He leaned closer to her, inspecting the embroidered cloth more closely. "What are you making for her?"

"a swaddle and blanket for the baby, I've already picked the softest fabric and now I'm embroidering it, with the heraldry of the houses coming together, so the babe may know of his history, this traditional,"

Benjicot looked impressed and he nodded approvingly at her project. "That's a beautiful idea," he said, his eyes wandering over the embroidery design. "I'm sure it will be treasured by your sister and her child." He shifted even closer to her, their thighs now touching, enjoying the intimacy of their closeness.

"I'm sure she will, my mother keeps threatening to make me a wedding gown," she chuckled,

Benjicot chuckled as well, amused by the thought of her in a wedding gown. "And what do you say to that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Do you plan on getting married soon?"

"I have nothing to say, I have very little say in it," she chuckled, "My father will make a match and I shall marry him, such is the way of things my lord," she explained,

Benjicot's smile faltered slightly at her words. "You don't mind having no say in something so important as your future husband?" He shifted his body so that he was facing her fully, his eyes studying her features intently.

"Such is the way," she shrugged, "for my sister's, for my mother, and her mother and her mother and so on,"

Benjicot furrowed his brow, not satisfied with her answer. "But what if you don't like this theoretical husband your father picks? Or what if he's cruel? Or unfaithful?"

"I shall have to do my duty," she said sadly,

Benjicot's expression softened and he reached out to gently brush some of her hair off her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for a moment. "You deserve better than a future arranged solely out of duty, Y/n."

"thank you, my lord, but I suppose it's only a matter of time. My sisters are all wedded and now all either with children or have them. I don't imagine Father will leave me unmarried for much longer"

Benjicot's hand dropped from her neck, his gaze darkening at her words. The thought of her being married off to some faceless stranger left a bitter taste in his mouth. "No offence to your father, but I think he might be blind if he doesn't at least consider me a blackwood as a potential suitor," he said, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

she chuckled "I'm sure he considers your family my lord,"

Benjicot smiled at her reaction, glad to make her laugh. He shifted his position, his knee brushing against hers under the fabric of her skirt. "Then I pray that my family is considered highly in his estimation," he said with a grin. "For your sake, of course."

"Why? Would you want to marry me Benji?" She teased,

Benjicot chuckled softly, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips. "And why wouldn't I want to marry you? You're beautiful, clever, kind..." He leaned in a little closer to her, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "It could be a match made by the gods themselves."

she giggled, "That's too sweet of you my lord,"

Benjicot's grin widened at her giggle. "Only speaking the truth." He looked into her eyes, his own gaze warm and affectionate. "In all seriousness, Y/n," he said, his voice low and serious now, "the thought of you being married off to some man who treats you with anything less than respect and kindness... It does not sit with me well."

"no?"

Benjicot shook his head. "No." For a moment he was silent, his expression soft as he looked at her face, taking her in. "I don't wish to see you given to someone who doesn't deserve you," he said quietly. "You deserve someone who treats you well, who respects you and makes you happy. That's how it should be, for someone like you."

"And whom would you suggest?"

Benjicot raised his eyebrow at her question, his expression suddenly amused. "Oh, I don't know," he began, feigning ignorance. "Maybe me?" His tone was light, but the suggestion was serious. Benjicot looked into her eyes, waiting to see her reaction.

She blushed "... I would like that, but it's not up to me whom I marry,"

Benjicot reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Perhaps I could help you change that," he said softly, a spark of determination in his eyes. Benjicot leaned closer to her, his arm now resting on the ground near her hip, his body angled towards hers. "What if you did not have to marry whomever your father chooses?" he asked, his voice low and serious. "What if you could marry me instead?"

"I'd like that very much,"

Benjicot felt his heart swell with relief and joy at her words. A gentle smile spread across his face and he reached out to brush a knuckle against her cheek. "Then I will try to make it happen," he promised, his voice suddenly filled with determination. "I will go to your father and request your hand. I won't let anyone else have you." Benjicot beamed at her. The mere thought of making her his bride had filled him with a sense of joy and contentment that he had never felt before. "You should prepare yourself to have the most obnoxiously devoted husband in the realm," he said with a grin. "I plan on spoiling you rotten, my dear."

"I have no doubt my lord," she nodded, "Are you to see him now?"

Benjicot nodded. "I'll seek your father out, speak to him about this, and hopefully he'll give his blessing." He got to his feet, looking down at her with a slightly anxious expression. "Wish me luck," he said, grinning.

She nodded getting to her feet and taking his hand in hers standing on her tip toes to press a tender kiss to his forehead, "Good luck Benji,"

Benjicot felt his heart skip a beat at the feeling of her soft lips on his forehead. He reached up to touch the place where she had kissed him as if to prolong the sensation. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, looking into her eyes. "I won't be long. Wait here for me?"

"I will I promise," she nodded, "And last I saw him he was in the courtyard," She smiled doing her best to help him seek out her father,

Benjicot felt strangely calm, but still nervous despite himself. He wanted her father's blessing, he wanted her. "Thank you, Y/n," he said with an affectionate smile. "I'll see you soon." With that, he turned and walked off towards the courtyard.

When arriving at the courtyard he found the place busy as usual, and Y/n's father lord Mason sharpening his sword with the blacksmith, Benjicot approached the man, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the conversation to come. He stopped a few feet away, clearing his throat to get the lord's attention. "Lord Mason?" he said politely.

He glanced up glancing at the young lord before returning focus to his blade, "Lord Blackwood, to what do I owe this visit?"

Benjicot swallowed back his nerves and stood up a little straighter. "I came to talk with you about your daughter Y/n," he said, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"Y/n? ... Y/n..." Her father pondered, "Ahh short one? Curls like mulberry stem? And tits like a river lands milkman?" That one?"

Benjicot couldn't help the faint flush that crept up his cheeks. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice going a little higher than he would have liked. "That one."

"AHH, do forgive me, my lord. Six daughters hard to keep them straight" Benjicot chuckled at that, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Understandable, my lord. It is quite a large family, after all."

"so? What about her?"

Benjicot took a deep breath and met the lord's gaze. "I've come to request your blessing," he said evenly. "I wish to ask for Y/n's hand in marriage."

"marriage?" He chuckled "You sure? I have two more unmarried daughters you are welcome to take your pick of them,"

Benjicot's eyes darkened slightly at the lord's words. "With all due respect, my lord," he said, "I do not want any of your daughters but Y/n. She is the one I wish to marry."

"you like the tits?" He joked,

Benjicot's face reddened even further, but he held steady. "With all due respect, my lord, your daughter is more than just... tits," he said firmly. "She is witty and kind and beautiful, and I would be honoured to call her my wife."

"... Alright, you marry her, You make her lady blackwood, and you give her children. That a deal?"

Benjicot felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed immediately by a pang of anxiety. This was really happening. "Yes, my lord," he said, his voice steady. "I will marry her, make her lady Blackwood, and give her children. I swear it on my honour."

"then you have my permission to wed her," he nodded returning focus to his sword,

Benjicot felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A wide grin broke out on his face as he bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my lord. You won't regret this, I swear." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, practically jogging back to the Weirwood tree where he had left Y/n.

Y/n sat under the weirwood patiently waiting doing her embroidery,

Benjicot came to a stop a few feet away, watching her quietly for a moment. He still couldn't quite believe that not only had he asked for her hand, but her father had granted it. It all seemed almost too good to be true. He cleared his throat, a wide grin on his face as he spoke. "I have great news, my dear," he said, barely containing his excitement.

"oh enlighten me my lord," she smiled,

Benjicot stepped closer to her, his smile now so wide it was bordering on a grin. "Your father has given me his blessing to ask for your hand in marriage," he said, his voice full of joy. "I am to make you my wife."

"truely!"

"Truly," Benjicot agreed, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He stepped closer to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Our marriage is practically guaranteed," he said softly. "Soon, you will be mine. Lady Blackwood." Benjicot chuckled, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Seeing her giggle and blush because of him, just because he had called her "Lady Blackwood" stirred something in him. He gently brushed his knuckles against her cheek, his gaze affectionate. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are when you blush like this, darling?"

she giggled again and wrapped her arms around his torso squeezing him in a sweet hug "You're going to be the best husband Benji,"

Benjicot chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. Her warmth against his body felt like bliss. he said, his voice full of affection. "Nand you shall be the best wife in all of westeros,” 

[pepperyduck]

growing old with kento nanami, pt. 2

word count: 3.5k

warnings: having kids, raising kids, naming kids after lost loved ones, descriptions of growing old, like actually growing old and having grandchildren, descriptions of body changes after birth, dad nanami, no angst in this one just living a happy life with husband nanami :3 (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love u all sm, i am giving this man the ending he deserves. now get ready bc i just went through a terrible breakup and must project it in my writing. much love!!!

part 1 | masterlist

nanami watched you with loving eyes as you laid in your hospital bed, exhausted and sleeping so peacefully after the delivery of your baby. your hair stuck to your face in messy patterns from all the sweat, your chest rose and fell on the perfect, comfortable beat. this time, he was sitting in the chair next to your bed, a book open and ready to be read, but kento’s eyes refused to skim the pages – you looked so beautiful. the room was quiet, only the soft buzzing of an air conditioner and beeping from one of the monitors stuck to you would infiltrate the silence. kento paid close mind whenever you began to stir, lightly fluttering your eyes open to look at him, oh so tired.

“good morning, beautiful,” kento cooed, closing his book to rest it on his thigh. he reached out his hand to lay it atop yours, a soft smile grazing his lips when he looked at you.

“hi,” you groaned, slightly rolling over and wincing when the sharp pain began to shoot through your body. kento’s brows furrowed whenever he saw your discomfort.

“how are you feeling?” he asked.

“tired…it hurts,” you muttered, closing your eyes again. kento’s thumb lightly grazed over the back of your hand, tracing the veins.

kento made sure the nurses that came to check on you administered some pain medicine, and after a while, you began to not be in as much torment as before. you were told you could go home in a day or two, after the pain subsides and the baby is evaluated to be in good health.

kento pushed you down the hallway in a wheelchair towards the nursery, and politely asked to see your baby. you cried so many tears of joy the moment your baby boy was settled in your arms, swaddled in a hospital blanket and sleeping gently. he was so beautiful, a spitting image of his father from the word go. even though he was tiny, and his features weren’t so defined, you could already see the resemblance.

“have you decided on a name yet?” the nurse sweetly asked, clipboard in hand with all your information. you and kento swapped looks for a moment, obviously unprepared for the question. for a minute, you thought in your mind about all the names you discussed, finally landing on one that would be thoughtful and fitting.

“what about ‘yū’ kento?” you suggested, looking up at your husband for his approval.

the gesture of naming his son after his passed best friend made kento a little sad, but he knew haibara would be proud and so happy, so he nodded his head in agreement.

“yes, yū. that’s perfect.”

taking care of such a tiny human came so naturally to kento. he was easily able to balance work on top of making sure the baby was okay. for the first few months, it seemed as if yū would always cry when he was with you, until kento finally would pick him up and settle the baby in his arms. kento had taken an adequate amount of time off from work, working only 3-4 days a week, he made sure you had enough time to rest in between taking care of the baby for days at a time.

after a while, yū began to calm down, reverting into a happy, smiley, giggly baby. you felt more comfortable taking care of him on your own without kento there. so, in return, kento began working even more, picking up his normal 40-hour work week. since you had moved cities, you hadn’t found a stable job yet, but that was okay. because kento wanted to take care of you. he wanted to be the one to take care of his family.

so, you let him. he provided as much as possible for you and your child, all the while ensuring he wasn’t overworking himself in the process. he wanted to live a happy life, after all, he was never going to revert back to the ways of his 24-year-old self; working impossible hours and remaining exhausted 24/7.

since yū had began to grow older, hitting the year-old mark in the blink of an eye, you came to realize that you only took care of him. not that you minded, of course, you loved your baby. but you were less active, and it showed on your body. more and more, you looked in the mirror to find the pregnancy weight still latched on to you, the body you once had just didn’t seem to be there. you knew your husband should be the one to talk about insecurities, sure, but with all the surgeries he went through, and all he did to improve his health; you thought he looked just as ravishing as the day you met him. he did look just as handsome, even with the scars covering half of his body. he was simply a beautiful man.

and you began to feel undeserving. ugly. lesser than the person you were married to. and for what? because of some baby weight? it was natural. so why did you feel so increasingly terrible about yourself as time went on? you worked out, you stayed as healthy as possible; but it was like nothing was going to let you get back to how you looked before the baby.

you were looking in the mirror in your bathroom, a huge one, just like you dreamed of. but the large size of the mirror only gave you more sight into your own reflection. a reflection that filled you with disgust. you frowned at the weird shape and size of your tummy, or at least the shape you thought was weird, and the way your face seemed chubbier, and your thighs had grown in size.

“hey, honey,” kento greeted you, walking around the frame of the bathroom door. his sights were immediately infiltrated with the picture of his gorgeous wife, with her sleep shorts tugged down below her stomach, endearing stretchmarks littering the skin that once carried his beloved son.

you tugged your shorts up quickly and replied to him, “hi, kento.” with a quick turn on your heel and a step forward, you planted a light peck on his lips. he smiled down at you, eyes glittering with the very glimpse of such a beautiful woman.

“what are you doing?” he asked, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you close. you sort of slumped your body against him, resting a head on his shoulder, and you sighed.

“do you think i look…different now?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question, blurting it out as you rested against your husband. he pulled you away and rested his hands on your waist to look you in the eyes.

“what do you mean, hm?” kento’s thumbs grazed up and down your soft skin.

you looked back into the mirror, frowning once more at the silhouette your body created. with a pitiful tone, you began to speak, “my body. ever since i had yū, it’s just been…ugly. i feel ugly.” you described yourself with one of the most hurtful words and caused kento’s eyebrows to furrow as he looked at you.

ugly? how dare his own wife speak about his wife that way. because, in his eyes, you were the most breathtaking individual on the planet. in the universe, actually. sure, he had noticed the changes of your body – the changes that came from you growing a human being inside of you, single-handedly giving him the best gift he’s ever received. if anything, he loved the changes of your body, somehow your skin became even softer to him, contrasting his rough hands perfectly.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, noticing your husband’s glare once you looked back up at him. he shook his head.

“don’t apologize, i understand.” kento comforted you, bringing a sweet hand up to your cheek to pull you in for a soft kiss. once he pulled back, he ran a thumb over your cheek, “do you want to know what i think, sweetheart?”

brows furrowing, you looked up at him with a confused expression, “think about wh-,” he cut you off with another kiss to the lips. he skimmed his lips over different parts of your face, planting light pecks over all the skin.

“i think,” kento’s lips trailed down your neck slowly, then to each off your shoulders, beginning down one of your arms. “i have,” his kisses didn’t waver as he made his way down your arm, giving a firm kiss to the back of your hand as he held it, kneeling down. “the most,” he smiled up at you before focusing on your tummy, kissing the shirt that laid atop your soft skin, trailing all over your abdomen.

“beautiful wife in the world.”

you giggled at his gesture, the laugh soon faltering because kento’s stare on you was full of complete seriousness. the things that kento thought were always fact, never fiction, you should’ve known that. so yes, what he said was true. it would always be true in his eyes, too. always.

with all the intimacy conjured in the bathroom, that was the night you got pregnant with your second child, a daughter named mayu.

parenthood came with its own highs and lows as your children grew. your daughter loved her father til’ the earths end, always opting to stay under his arm whenever he was home. mayu had taken more of your looks this time, not quite the spitting image like yū was to your husband, but enough to tell that you were her mother. she was full of energy and happiness and took on a sassy personality from a young age. yū, however, was very emotional and laidback compared to his sister. it was quite funny how much their personalities showed, even when they were unable to talk. but as they began to grow up and adopt certain mannerisms, their personalities began to bloom even more.

as kento got older, he had gained just a tiny amount of weight, filling out his muscular form even more. his abs slowly faded with time, turning into a less-defined version of themselves. and your favorite part about kento growing older was his hair. once your children reached 3 and 5, kento had reached a good 35, turning 36 soon, little grey pieces began to pepper themselves into his hairline, shining brightly in between the blonde strands. he began to have small crow’s feet in the outsides of his eyes, and smile lines from the amount of smiling he did with you.

on yū’s first day of school, kento had to hold you as you sniffled back tears, watching your oldest boy walk through the front doors of the school. he held his arm around your shoulders and waved his son off, shushing you and saying he will only be gone until 3 p.m. little did you know, kento had to hold back his own tears, because in that moment he felt so accomplished as a father, even though that was only the beginning of yū’s journey.

not to worry, though, because on mayu’s first day – your husband cried like a baby seeing his daughter walk off into school, nervous for the first time in her life.

the first few years of your children’s school life were smooth sailing. yū and mayu alike made many friends and looked at school in a positive light. you and kento never got tired of their endless stories – about a game they played or a lesson they learned or a book they read. every little art project and 100 on a test decorated the fridge. kento made sure to teach them both about the importance of schooling and how to remain at the top of their class, along with balancing the increasing schoolwork the older they got.

it wasn’t until yū hit middle school that things began to go downhill.

neither you nor kento thought that your children would be able to see curses. only one of you was a sorcerer, and kento was the only one in his family that was able to be a sorcerer, too. but when kento took him to a bakery, yū saw the same creature as his father crawling around on the floor, eliciting an ear-shattering scream – kento felt doomed.

“what do you think we should do?” you questioned, leaning against the counter as your husband sat at the kitchen table, lips pursed beneath intertwined fingers pressed on the lower half of his face.

“i do not want him to be a sorcerer,” kento stated, a stern tone in his voice, “but he…he’s…i don’t know if we can stop it.” your husband sounded defeated at the statement.

he could only ask himself why this had to happen to him of all people; someone that had run away from jujutsu twice now. you and kento both decided to wait until your children were older to explain it all, and where all their uncles and aunts and family friends came from, but at the time, it all seemed inevitable but to give some sort of explanation.

so, of course, he called one of the people he trusted – and now respected – the most.

“nanami!” gojo squealed as soon as the front door was opened, revealing the still tall and lanky satoru. kento seemed to still be annoyed by his presence, yet inside he was thankful for his friend to show up on such short notice. gojo had been around your children some, obviously, but you and kento tried to keep your distance because of how dangerous it all was.

after giving satoru the rundown of the past days’ events, you sent mayu off to a friend’s house and sat yū in the living area with all the adults. until that point, he had no explanation as to what he saw in the bakery. but with ease, just as everything was with gojo, he gave yū the clarification needed to understand he had a special gift, and to use it wisely. kento made up his mind as to not scare your son by telling him about how he got all those scars, saving that for a later date. yū still didn’t understand everything entirely, but ended up having some sort of grasp on his abilities. that was all that was needed.

you and kento collectively decided it would be yū’s choice when he was old enough to decide to become a sorcerer, with the help of gojo, of course.

fortunately, or unfortunately, for mayu, she would end up not having the same abilities as her father. it was sort of a blessing, only having to worry about one kid being raised to fight the second they turned 14.

the years spent waiting for yū to become old enough to decide about jujutsu felt like a ticking time bomb for you and kento. many, many nights were spent in the kitchen, talking endlessly about your concerns but also the upsides to having your son learn under one of kento’s most trusted partners. but the both of you became more honest with your son about the reality of going into jujutsu, the pros and cons of becoming a sorcerer, and how it could both positively and negatively affect his life.

ultimately, though, kento was the most relieved he’d ever been when your son gave his answer about becoming a sorcerer, a few days away from the end of middle school.

“uh, no, dad. it sounds way too dangerous. i want to go to college.” yū’s words came off as that of a normal, moody teenager, but in the end made a weight lift off you and your husband’s shoulders.

they say time flies when you’re having fun, and that was the truest of statements when it came to raising your children with kento. yū’s high school years approached quickly, mayu’s seemingly approached even faster, it was all a rush of images that remained in your head. the sports teams, never missing a thursday night game to cheer on your son from the stands, as he led his soccer team to the regional levels. the first time yū brought a girl home, with you and kento seemingly even more nervous to meet the sweet young lady that attached herself to your son’s arm. prom was so much fun, seeing your husband knot the same printed tie around his son’s neck that he wore in his sorcerer days, before taking a thousand photos of yū and his girlfriend. your son had the most elated, idiotic smile on his face once he opened the door to find his girlfriend dressed to the nines in a stunning dress, the same smile on his face when he came home after a fun night with his friends. and of course, graduation topped it all off, yū standing at the top of his class just like his father. both you and kento had to stifle back tears watching him walk across the stage.

mayu’s high school days were a flash as well, a very fond memory looking back. she remained with the same snappy and sassy personality, just as when she was little. mayu remained close with her father, but began to talk to you as she got older, needing advice for any decision she made. it made you feel like a proud mother, someone she wasn’t embarrassed of because even through her mood swings and bad days, she always found refuge in you. mayu became the student council president by her second year, running every school event like a ship, making sure to always get extra t-shirts for you and kento because you would always show up. while yū was away at college, mayu became your focus as you let your son navigate his way through life.

kento thought he was going to have a heart attack the second his beloved daughter said she had a boyfriend she wanted the both of you to meet. the night that boy rolled up in his car, knocking on the door frantically, kento put on a stern and serious face as he was the one to open the door. mayu came running up behind kento, to no avail, as her boyfriend was already bowing and then shaking your husband’s hand. he politely introduced himself, practically shaking with how intimidated he was by your husband. but the night went on smoothly, you had dinner together and found out more about mayu’s boyfriend and his aspirations. at the end of the night, after he had left and mayu went to bed, kento said he was an, “alright young man,” which was the biggest compliment if you were going to date his daughter.

mayu’s graduation was the time for kento to sob again, seeing his daughter get so much recognition for all she did for the school, feeling like the proudest dad of two children. yū had driven into town, sitting next to you and kento in the stands, a bouquet of flowers for his sister. mayu moved into her dorm only a few weeks later, leaving you and kento in an empty house, riddled with the memories of raising two beautiful, accomplished, important and thriving children.

it all went by too fast.

after your birds had successfully left the nest, you and kento spent all your time together once again. the days would mix up as he began to work less and less to prepare for his retirement. time flew by, aging you and your husband both, the wrinkles becoming delicately pronounced each year, the grey hairs eventually taking over all the blonde in his head. you spent your time reading, baking, and most of all, traveling as soon as kento’s last day at work hit.

you flew all around the world, visiting the most gorgeous and diverse cities alike, emerging yourselves in all the different cultures, practices, and kento’s favorite part – the food. you visited malaysia with him again, just as you did on your honeymoon, the love you felt all those years ago still present within you both. you walked along the beaches and toured all the spots you favorited on your honeymoon again.

your life with kento nanami was beautiful.

you lay in bed with your husband at your side, his peaceful yet loud snores endearing as he sleeps so soundly. tomorrow, your 25th wedding anniversary will be here. you’ll walk out on the porch of the beautiful condo kento bought after retirement with a cup of coffee for him. you’ll read a book as your husband basks in the view of the beach he longed for all his life. your children and their spouses will drive in around afternoon, and spend the weekend with you both, letting you get time in with yū’s new baby, your grandchild. you will mingle, laugh, maybe cry and reminisce in all the memories you and your husband built up over the course of decades. your house will be loud with the sounds of kids and family and friends, all there to celebrate the life you’ve had with your husband.

even if kento were to die the next day, or in a year, or in 10 years, something would always remain true.

kento nanami had successfully spent his life with his true love.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @lagataprrr @ourfinalisation @ynniksslirg

let me know if you want to be added!

[celestialprincesse]

Just going to leave this here and then sneak away! K bye! 🎀🩰

John Price is a man who runs on instinct. After years in the forces, he has to be. He's learned that the feeling in his gut is almost never wrong, and learning how to trust it is a skill. Right now though? He's wishing that his stomach would stop roiling. He's so anxious he feels like he might actually be sick. Kyle sits earnestly at his side, hunched over in the plastic hospital chair nursing a long gone flat vending machine Coke.

They've been tuning out your screams for a good three hours now.

Something within John breaks with every guttural cry that sounds from under the doorway. He's heard so many countless screams of agony from faceless people. They've been and gone in his head like a passing storm. Yours, he thinks, will stick for a lifetime.

Realistically, he knows that you're safe. Receiving the best care you possibly can, safe within the walls of the modern private hospital his insurance more than covers. He also can't help but remind himself just how complicated giving birth can be - and you're so delicate to him.

He's not actually sure when Kyle got here, having been running on autopilot since your contractions started yesterday. All the boys love you just as much as you do them, and when he'd messaged their shared group with a simple: > On way to hospital now. they'd been so shit scared.

Each one of them had opted to take up shifts staying beside their captain in the hospital, waiting earnestly for if they were at all needed. Johnny had picked up groceries, claiming that he' d best know what to get for a new mum, seeing as he's the only one besides Price who actually has sisters, and a niece of his own. None of them would ever admit that they also wanted to be the first to see little baby Price, and to check in on his wife who'm they'd grown to love so much, but there'd definitely been attempts on all three sides to work out when the baby would approximately pop, so that they could time their stint accordingly.

"Think she's okay in there?" John croaks, lifting his head from his palms, squinting at the fluorescent hall lights with a tired grunt.

Kyle swallows the sip of Coke in his mouth before responding. "She's a trooper. I think if anyone can handle having a baby, it's your missus."

Hours later, your small hospital room falls silent, and John is immediately up on his feet, back ramrod straight, everything alert. And then, a baby cries. It's a little hiccuping whinge at first, but then his baby seems to find their voice, wailing up a storm.

"You should go. See them." Kyle prompts quietly, noticing his captain's reverie as he just stands there staring at the closed door.

Nurses file out one by one, whilst he makes his way in, a dazed sort of look on his face as he sees the swaddles blanket you hold close to your chest, gurgling softly as tiny fat fists reach out to your nose.

The stillness in the room is like time stops entirely, only finally broken by a soft "Hey." as your husband makes his way quietly to your side.

"Hi." You breathe, a soft smile blossoming on your tired face, scooting along in the hospital bed so he can sit beside you.

The reverence on his face as he looks down towards the face of such a small creature is a look only talked about in fairytales. A look that tells you that your baby is the luckiest child in the world to have a dad like John.

"She's a girl." You laugh softly, noticing the look on John's face, the one that says he's holding his tongue.

"Oh, my baby girl." Tears spring to his cerulean eyes as he brushes a gentle finger down the soft slope of her tiny nose.

For a moment, the two - three - of you sit in total stillness, entirely enraptured by the tiny human you currently keep held so closely to your chest. Until there's a quiet, tentative knock on the door.

"Mrs Price? Can we come in?" Kyle's voice comes softly from the other side, but before you can even finish your "Yes" not just Kyle, but also Simon and Johnny are practically barrelling into the room, barely able to contain their intrigue as they lock eyes with the little blanket wrapped parcel they've been waiting nine months to meet.

The minute you invite them to look at the sleeping face of your daughter, they're practically tripping over themselves to see the much anticipated baby Price.

"Looks jus' like her mam." Johnny observes, whilst Simon just stares, and Kyle busies himself with taking a picture of you, John and your baby girl.

"Bought 'er a present, mrs Price." Simon admits a little sheepishly as he pulls a haphazardly wrapped parcel from his coat pocket. A stuffed ghost teddy only just the size of your fist. "To remind 'er that uncle ghost is always looking out for her."

You're practically crying at the thought behind his gift, carefully side-hugging the lieutenant with the arm that's not holding your daughter.

"We're all here for her. And for you. Always. One for one and that."

[oreo-creampie]

𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐝! 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy fluff, light angst, reader is giving birth, kento is worried about being a dad and supportive husband, you easily reassure him, twin baby girls, praise, kento is in awe of you as he should be, you're amazing, you breast feed the baby and kento bottle feeds the other baby

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: I love your works! Could you write kento fluff, him stressing out about becoming a dad for the first time and reader is just really chill about it all!! Please and thank you🙏🙏

Oreo: I’m sick with my period at the same damn time eating chicken noodle soup, my hubby has been spoiling me so much. Brought me some Christmas themed flowers, the cutest wreath that has the house smelling like pine. Then there was running me a warm bath, making my soup this man is the best. Giving that nanami energy, cause you know he would take such good care of you. I haven’t had to lift a finger, and nanami wouldn’t let you lift one either.

Your painful contractions, rushing to the hospital, and the epidural to ensure a painless birth. Tightly squeezing his hand, pushing out the first baby girl. It’s a blur that doesn't slow down till he hears the first beautiful cry.

Letting go of your hand long enough to cut the umbilical cord. Grasping your hand between his own, kissing the back. “You’re doing wonderful love, she’s healthy and adorable.” Kissing your cheek, weakly you smile momentarily. Gritting your jaw focusing on pushing out your second baby girl. You're sweaty and beautiful.

The second baby girl is louder, her cries quieting her minutes older sister. This time the nurse brings her close to you, offering you the back the handle. Kento gently guides your hand helping you cut the cord.

"After we clean them both of you can hold one of your beautiful little joys. So chonky, healthy with a powerful set of lungs already.” The doctor gently cleans and checks you over.

One of the nurses brings his eldest baby to him. “Congratulations on such healthy wonderful baby girls.” Gently cradling his eldest babygirl in his hands, swaddled in a soft blanket. Kento supports her hand and head with one hand. She’s so small yet chunky at the same time. Swaddled in a yellow blanket.

Her beautiful chunky face scrunched up in confusion that melts away at the sight of his face. More tears trickle down his face at the soft adoring warm love in his baby girl’s eyes. Lifting her small hand, he leads down helping her touch his cheek.

Kento’s eyes widen tears trickling down his face, dripping onto the girl he names “ He’s a dad to two amazing baby girls who he wants to give the world to along side his beautiful wife.

What if he fails to be a good father?

Grinning Docter Annie announces, “Wonderful there is no hemorrhaging, you’re bleeding normally. We will keep you overnight for observation and discharge you in the morning. When you need to go to the restroom press the call button for a nurse. You will need to eat soon and get plenty of rest.”

Two nurses on either side carefully lift you for the doctor to put a diaper on you. Laying you back down, raising the upper half of the bed for you to comfortably sit up.

You're the nurse lift your baby girl out of the bath, drying her off. “Can I try to calm her down?” Kento looks up at you in pure awe. You have always been an amazing woman. He’s lucky for you to be the mother of his children.

What if he fails to be a supportive husband?

The nurse softly smiles, “You should be able to skin-to-skin and settle her, maybe help her latch.” Lying your baby on your chest. Cradling her, resting her head on your chest. Her loud cries softening to whines.

Admiring your little girl with tired eyes and a soft smile. It's a different type of beautiful to see you cradling the delicate adorable life in your hands. It's wonderful sight like the one of other baby girl in his hands.

Warm, healthy, and finally here after nine months. Here to thrive, grow, and develop interests. Kento wants to be there for them, with you by his side, every step of the way.

Her whines quiet down when you help her latch. Letting her get mouthfuls of milk. Softly breathing, “Of course, our lil Hana is hungry after all that hard work.” Kento didn't think he could fall more in love with you until this moment.

"She will need to latch and get skin with mom soon but for now getting fed by dad and doing some bonding is good too." A nurse hands Kento a bottle of formula. "We will get the overnight room and some food ready for the mom ready." Remembering the various videos and books he nudges Himari's lips with the bottle.

It takes a moment for her to latch, once she does, she's taking large mouthfuls. Failing her hand in her attempt to grab Kento's. A feat she takes moments to accomplish. Her small warm hand on the back of his, the sleepy loving looking in her eyes. "Hana and Himari are perfect, thank you my love for working so hard bringing them into this world."

The nurse and doctor trickle out of the room, taking some of the equipment with them. Leaving Kento and You along with your newborns.

"My love I know that look in your eyes and tension in your jaw. We got each other, and I couldn't have a better man by my side to raise our babies and grow old with. You're going to be everything these girls need in a father and more, trust me darling." The confidence in your beautiful face, soothing voice and tired eyes easing the weight on his shoulders.

He takes a deep breath, shoving his worries aside. Reaffirming your comforting words, "We have each other, there isn't anything we can't do to give these girls a wonderful life, don't worry about me love relax and rest." Standing up, carefully leaning down making sure not to disturb Himari drinking, kiss you gently. "I'm so grateful to get the privilege to be your husband and father to these adorable girls."

Oreo creampie’s m.list

[onyourowndaisymae]

"is... is that my sweater?"

satan notes the lethargic way you look up from your book, watching heavy eyelids lead a slow blink. whatever dusty tome lies in your hands has clearly lured you halfway to dreamland-- and from the looks of it, your cozy attire and the crackle of the nearby fireplace didn't seem to help much, either.

"huh?"

"are you wearing my sweater?" he asks, softer this time.

you let your head fall down to your own chest. you stare at the familiar green sweater on your body for a few moments before lifting your head.

"huh?" you repeat, too tired to comprehend the question for a long moment. then, "... oh. yeah."

a warm chuckle rumbles in his chest as he comes closer. satan had been looking for his sweater all day-- left only in a black undershirt, because it was more about the principle of finding it than needing it-- but he had been wholly unaware he'd left it in your room earlier that day. he couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. you look quite cozy cuddled up on the library sofa like that, swaddled in a blanket and his scent, lost in some book like a vision from an old painting. how he wishes he'd been a little quieter entering the library-- maybe he could have snapped a photo of you like this for himself.

as your lover, satan knows he should probably escort you to bed for a proper rest. but a selfish part of him wants to bask in this scene longer, to let the storm that rages in him find solace at this little slice of heaven. it's odd for a demon to crave peace like this. you've domesticated him in that way-- like a feral cat off the street finding comfort in a stranger's apartment, you've lulled him into a sense of contentness he didn't think he'd find in this lifetime.

oh, what a wonder you are.

"do you mind a little company?"

you nod, sleepily, yawning through what was intended to be a verbal response, but satan's at your side before you make yourself try again. his hand finds your shoulder and coaxes you to sit up. with a little adjusting, he slides into the space behind you and urges you to lean back into his chest. his legs stay on either side of you-- it's warm, comforting, doing nothing to help you stay awake. but it doesn't seem like satan minds your drowsiness.

his eyes fall to the nearly discarded book in your hands. emerald eyes scan over the words. they're familiar, causing a curious itch in his brain that lingers for a few seconds before his epiphany.

"is this... that book i read last week?"

"mhmm. i wanted--" another yawn, "-- to understand what you were talking about, but... i got sleepy."

he understands now. his sweater on your warm body, the library couch, the low fire nearby-- you're indulging in a small taste of his world.

what did he do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?

"i can read it to you, if you'd like," he murmurs, low and quiet. if you wanted the full experience, he'd give it to you-- complete with a nap in his arms. it's selfish, though. he really just wants an excuse to admire you up close, to lose himself in thought about how much he truly, deeply adores you. sometimes the sensation is so overwhelming that it shows on his face in flushed cheeks and soft eyes-- and that is a little too embarrassing to be caught with by anyone, but especially by you.

when you snuggle into his chest, he begins to read from the top of the page where you left off. it doesn't take long for your breathing to even out, your body to grow still and heavy in his grasp. he slides the bookmark between old pages where you originally left off. satan predicts you'll forget most everything he read to you by the time you wake up.

his mind wanders to the soundtrack of your peaceful breathing. he's grateful for lazy days like this. being able to bask in your presence is a gift. to know that you yourself were creating a similar experience by hiding away in one of his favorite reading spots, well... he's lucky you're asleep, as the flush on his cheeks only grows hotter at the thought.

maybe he'll let you borrow his things more often.

[fallenneziah]

Omggg I NEED a part 5 of omega!reader and alpha!ghost!!! You left me on a cliff hanger, like is it a boy or a girl!!?!?!?!?

Eh heh, @jax-simp I did that on purpose 🤪 gonna give you two a tiny cute little Riley 😭 literally I thank you guys for coming to support my writing and taking such an interest in this. And hey, if you want, I might try and commit to an entire proper fic for you guys?? This is just about to be super wholesome.

Alpha!Ghost and Omega!Reader pt 5

Pt 1, 2, 3, 4

Omega!Reader who purrs loudly to themself in the car to try and calm down. Feeling like you're going to pop any minute. Ghost beside you who takes your hand, purring alongside you.

Alpha!Ghost who tries to talk you through with affirmation the whole time until you get to the hospital. Bringing you to the emergency room for your pregnancy.

Alpha!Ghost whose protective of you still that he growls and snaps at any of the nurses that try to touch you, especially if their male or another alpha.

Usually when an Omega is giving birth, only Omega nurses and hospital staff will be present so that calmed his fiery nerves a bit.

Alpha!Ghost who stays by your side, making sure that you're ok as they set you up.

Omega!Reader who's in pain and whimpering, grabbing onto Ghost for stability, twisting their hand in his shirt and digging their nails into his scarred hands.

Omega!Reader whose seemingly only calmed a little by Ghost's scent filling the room to cloud your senses and try to soothe you gently.

Omega!Reader who grips the medical bed and snarls at the next nurse that tries to usher Ghost away.

Scents mingling as you moan and whine, breathing heavy in desperation.

Alpha!Ghost who leans in your ear, whispering to you how good you're doing and you'll be a wonderful parent.

"It's ok baby... It's gonna be worth it. Easy, deep breaths... Amazing, you're doing amazing love."

Omega!Reader whose so thrilled, hanging on as they go through the procedures. Barely remembering any of it. It's all a blur. Hanging on to Ghost's hand, purring loudly to try and calm yourself.

Ghost is there, trying to make sure you're ok through the whole procedure. His heart racing to meet his newborn baby.

And then you hear it.

The baby's first cries.

Omega!reader whose completely at ease, purring and coming back into full awareness.

Alpha!Ghost who bristles up in protectiveness when the child is swaddled in blankets and brought to your chest. Soft, fresh clean skin or a wailing baby who is calmed when brought to their carrier.

Omega!Reader whose so gentle, cradling the baby as it feeds, feeling so much love and fulfillment from this new life that they've helped bring to the world.

Alpha!Ghost who watches you hold the child, being pronounced as a boy. His heart settling, watching all the people around the room, shoulders arching back to protect you. His entire weight leaning toward the medical bed to be a shadow for his little boy and his mate.

Omega!Reader who leans toward him, Ghost kissing your forehead, telling you how amazing you did.

"He's beautiful love... You did so good."

Alpha!Ghost who eventually gets skin to skin contact, and he's never felt so amazing. Holding this small child in his arms, feeling him lean and sink into the warm skin of his father.

Alpha!Ghost who gently holds your child, staring up through his eyebrows at anyone who even makes a move or breathes the wrong way. This child means so much to him.

Gently feeling his fuzzy head. Cooing and hicking softly against his chest.

Alpha!Ghost who purrs from deep in his chest to his little one, knowing he'll wait to scent him till his skin is less sensitive.

Omega!Reader who feels tired, but feels so loved and happy watching Ghost accept his child and get so protective over him. And seeing the baby curl right up to him as it's the safest place he could be.

Warm in dad's arms.

Omega!Reader who stays at the hospital with the baby, Ghost wanting to stay as well. That natural draw to protect you and his newborn so strong he fights the hospital workers. But after kissing you goodbye and giving his child a gentle kiss, he departs.

Alpha!Ghost who worries sick for you and his little one every moment he's not around you. Who goes back to the hospital as soon as he can every day to hold the newborn and kiss you.

Alpha!Ghost who is a father now. Protecting you and this kiddo. Whose more protective than ever. Who insists on carrying the carrier when you leave the hospital, you on his other arm.

Your baby needs a lot from both of you.

Omega!Reader having that instinct for the more domestic tasks, feeding him, spending the long nights up, their routine shifting almost naturally into caretaker mode.

Alpha!Ghost who is there to play and help strengthen your little one. But who also steps into the caretaker role with almost as much fluidity as you.

Alpha!Ghost who when your son starts to wail in the middle of the night, kissing your temple, whispering, "I've got it, love. You rest."

Alpha!Ghost who will pick up your son, holding him in his arms and gently rocking him. Who will purr to him, taking care of whatever need has him startled awake.

"Shh, shh, you're ok..." He whispers, finding some milk in the fridge and heating it up just enough, feeding the bottle to your son. "Easy, easy now..." He smiles softly when your son latches on.

"There we go... See? Dad's here, dad is here it's ok."

Alpha!Ghost who doesn't mind losing the sleep so his omega can rest. Sitting up most of the night with your son, even rubbing his scent glands against his small cheek gently, the scent of his father calming him in a soft slumber.

Omega!Reader who misses their alpha in post childbirth and heads down to the living room to see him snuggled up with your son.

Omega!Reader who curls up under Ghost's arm, leaning into his side, smelling his scent and the warmth of his body. Wrapping an arm around the two, getting comfortable.

Alpha!Ghost who even in his sleep pulls you closer, feeling the body's of two very, very special people in his life.

The two of you getting time off so you can be with your child.

Omega!Reader setting up a proper, much, much better nest for the three of you to get cozy in.

Alpha!Ghost who crawls in, your son curled up in his one arm, letting you snuggle up, head buried in his neck. Blankets wrapped around you, making sure you're both comfy.

Alpha!Ghost who stalks behind you when you go grocery shopping. Your son giggling or napping in his seat in the cart.

Omega!Reader happily going about shopping while Ghost eyes up everyone in the store. A woman attempt to come over before swerving away from the look he's giving.

Alpha!Ghost who doesn't care who or where, but he protects you with everything he has.

Alpha!Ghost who wears that baby holder thing with your son on his chest napping or looking around the world. His scent close and his body warm.

Alpha!Ghost who is at ease with his son so close like this. He knows you will and do take amazing care of his son. But the protective aspect of him isn't easy when it also brings him a sense of worry.

Alpha!Ghost whose worries are only calmed by you two, wrapping his arms around you after a nightmare, smelling your scent. Waking up in a cold sweat hearing your baby wailing. Rushing across the hall only to see you already rocking him.

"He's ok love, I've got him." You reply softly with a little smile.

Ghost who exhales softly, coming over and hugging you from behind, wrapping his arms around you and cupping the back of his son's head as he settles.

"Wasn't worried..." He mutters into your hair.

"I know you were." You chuckle softly.

Alpha!Ghost who doesn't know what he'd do without his little family. But when he has to leave again, he gets a bunch of new things for his son. Toys that hopefully he'll be able to understand and start to play with as he grows. Scenting every single one so each one smells safe like dad.

Omega!Reader who wanted to have this family with Ghost knowing that they will stay home when Ghost goes off to serve.

Omega!Reader who finds it really hard to drive through without Ghost. The stress getting to them a lot. And yet they keep going.

Omega!Reader who lays down to bed at night, snuggling up to Ghost's side to smell his pillow, the lingering scent helping to sleep.

Alpha!Ghost who keeps a photo of you and his son in his jacket to look at whenever he misses you. And calls you whenever he can.

Omega!Reader who gives your son one of Ghost's shirts to sleep with in his crib, afraid without it he'll forget his father's scent.

Omega!reader who calls Ghost when your son begins to walk, crying about how happy you are, Ghost feeling his own tears as he tells you how he wished he saw it.

"I'll be home soon love. I promise, I will."

Omega!Reader who hears he's coming back and waits by the door all day.

When the door opens you nearly burst into tears then and there, wrapping your arms around him. Nuzzling up to him, smelling him, feeling him. Missing him so much.

Alpha!Ghost who rubs his cheek all over you first thing, re-scenting you as soon as he's home because he misses you so much.

Alpha!Ghost who kisses away your tears and holds you close to him.

Omega!Reader who was worried your son wouldn't remember him, until he's crawling over from where he was on his playmate. Cooing and trying to wiggle up to his feet.

Omega!Reader who rushes to help, but your son is smiling his big gummy smile, already waddling over to him.

Alpha!Ghost who bursts into tears, picking up his little one and kissing him all over, scenting him and hugging him. Oh how he missed him. Hugging both of you in his arms tightly.

"I missed you both so much." He whispers, kissing your heads. "I missed you."

"We missed you too." You respond, buried in his side. His son centered on his chest, little hands clinging to him like iron.

Alpha!Ghost who holds your child for the rest of the afternoon because he doesn't want to be put down. Although tired he holds him and rocks him until his eyes are heavy toward the evening and he sleeps.

Alpha!Ghost who lays him down for bed, kissing you tiredly and inviting you for a shower so he can hold you. Tired and feeling your skin pressed against his under the warm water. Kissing your neck and shoulders.

"I missed you." He whispers again.

You wrap your arms around him. "I missed you too, Simon."

Alpha!Ghost who is so proud of you for being strong without him. Taking care of your son and raising him while he wasn't there for a bit.

Alpha!Ghost who carries you off to bed, snuggling back up in his nest, missing it. Smelling more of you. He brings you close, holding you tightly, and relaxes. Finally home, with his family. Where he knows he belongs...

[ma1dita]

play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real. 

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble. 

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?” 

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him. 

Idiot. 

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!” 

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!” 

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part. 

But that’s kind of the problem. 

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke. 

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke��s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!” 

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back. 

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound. 

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window. 

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?” 

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?” 

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy. 

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more? 

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling. 

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability. 

And who would want to love someone so difficult? 

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know? 

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck. 

Fuck. 

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape. 

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other). 

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on. 

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father. 

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….” 

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent. 

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…” 

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder. 

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

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[wonfilms]

looking after enhypen [౨ৎ] when they’re sick

( rbs are very appreciated !! ) | pairing. ot7! x fem reader wc. 0.9k cw. sick ppl (jst fevers and colds!) genre. fluff a/n- i loved writing niki's sm idk why, i hope u guys enjoy this, this is mostly bc i'm sick rn and i'm projecting

lee heeseung:

heeseung’s so pouty when you try to look after him, trying to insist that he’s completely okay despite his flushed cheeks and very evident fever

mumbling under his breath about something along the lines of, "don’t worry about me baby" when all you can do is worry when he’s been tucked in bed all day, napping

begging you for another blanket to stay cosy, even though it's gonna make him feel warmer and worse, till you cave and swaddle him up

lets you feed him soup and press kisses to his forehead even though he’s complaining about how you’re gonna catch his cold too, (he’d be lying if it didn’t make him feel so loved and cared for, he’s already plotting how he’ll make it up to you when he's feeling better)

park jongseong

jay’s already trying his best to take care of himself , sleepily attempting to make some soup when you arrive back home in a rush, arms decked with supplies to help him feel better.

hates to complain, he's practically insisting he's absolutely fine even though he's so tired

giving him the princess treatment, even though he insists that’s usually his job. 

letting him lean on your shoulder, combing his soft hair as you feed him the little warm dumplings you bought for him as a treat :(

kissing his forehead telling him about your day while he dozes off slightly on your chest just because he likes to hear your soft voice lulling him to sleep

keeps saying thank you over and over even though you told him to rest his voice, because he appreciates you looking after him so so much sim jaeyun

so cute n whiny about it actually lets you tuck him in bed and put on a movie while he's plowing his way through a box of tissues..

swears that he's going to pass away from his little cold, and it's cute even though he's been a little drama queen just for your attention

says he can't move just so you can feed him, another man who deserves princess treatment

won't let you kiss him though, doesn't want you to get sick!! but he knows he'll fold if you keep asking,

whenever you say he's getting hot, his go to response is "aren't i always baby?"

keeps up the flirting even though he swears he's on his 'deathbed'

park sunghoon

he never gets sick, he’s always somehow at the peak of health, usually it’s his job to look after you when you catch colds but this time it’s his turn to be coddled, quite unlike his usual taste

cheeks and nose all red and he’s clinging to you, even though he swears he’ll be okay in a day (he was not)

hugs you from behind as you make him something warm to drink because he just wants to be close

even tries to insist he’ll sleep on the sofa because he doesn’t wanna get you sick, pouts when you shut that idea down before he can even finish explaining himself

gets really irritable and groans about how much he could be doing right now if he wasn’t all ill and if it wasn’t for the fact you’ve put him to bedrest for a while

kim sunoo

very much a little drama queen like jake but sunoo’s sweet about it. insists on trying to take care of himself, failing miserably when he almost falls asleep trying to make toast and having to call you to help him

sunoo very much enjoys the coddling and princess treatment you’re giving him, but does promise he’ll make it up to you even though you’re only doing it because you love him

running him a warm steamy bath to clear up his sniffly nose and making warm herbal tea to share~

he loves you so much, constantly mumbling about how much he does in his delirious state

yang jungwon

tries to be productive even when he’s coughing his lungs out and half lucid, that’s always been his issue

complies when you drag him to bed because he loves you too much to go against your words

does complain about it though, saying he’ll be okay and it’s just a cold.

almost falls asleep as soon as you start brushing his hair gently 

even though you’re scolding him for not taking care of himself, he can’t help but smile at how much you care for him

cuddles you tight, even after saying he doesn’t want you ill too, because he doesn’t wanna be apart right now

“you look adorable all bundled up like this” “hehe yeah <3”, 

nishimura niki

is an absolute brat, in all honesty

complains the medicine tastes bad, and you have to plead and beg for him to take it.

“just take it niki” ”what will i get if i do?” “you’ll get better, that’s what you’ll get”

whines complaining how he can’t kiss you now, tries to sneak in a couple cheek kisses though

bundling him up in 3 blankets because he’s shivering.

won’t give up the drip even though he’s sick.. he’s gotta keep up hot boy appearances and let everyone know that his hot girlfriend has a hot boyfriend too

 taking him on a walk and hes trying to leave his coat at home because it ruins his outfit.

moans about the fact he looks like a kid, when you pull a coat, scarf and a hat around him before you take him out, making him look so so cuddly

takes a nap on your chest after you get home, when he finally shuts up and calms down <33

[ethanlandryswhore]

Late once again.

Pairing: Non!GF Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Slight suggestive mentions, Cursing

Summary: After a wild night out, you wake up with Ethan in your bed, immediately panicking after realizing how late the two of you are for your 1:30 pm Econ class.

You blink your eyes awake, stirring slightly at the sound of light breathing coming from next to you. You wince, sorenesses taking over your body. Your legs tangle with someone else’s and as you gaze up you see Ethan Landry in your bed right next to you.

“Oh shit.” You mumble.

Looking down, your lack of decency both confuses and surprises you at the same time. Glancing away from Ethan, you slowly lift your head off his chest trying to gently untangle your legs from his.

Sitting up, the weight of your headache causes you to practically fall back down. Your hangover hits you hard as you rub circles into your temples, attempting to piece together what happened the previous night.

The smell of alcohol consumes your room and fills your nose the second you breathe in. Scanning the area around you, Ethan’s light blue polo shirt and the shorts you had worn to the party last night catch your eye immediately.

“Shit shit shit.” You repeat again. Slight panic fills your mind as you try not to move so much, way too afraid to wake the sleeping boy next to you.

Before your brain even allows you to panic, your heart can’t help but stop to take in all of Ethan’s features. The window next to your bed shines light into your room, the most perfect gaze of light shining onto Ethan’s face.

The hickeys that scatter his chest, neck, and collar bone seemingly glow due to the sun. His bed hair is unbelievably adorable and his lips part slightly as he breathes in and out ever so peacefully.

Your blanket covers the bottom half of his body, his black boxers slightly visible and his pants inside out on the floor next to your closed bedroom door.

His body is relaxed and calm, his chest rising and falling as his freckles practically sparkle in the sunlight and for a second you consider not getting out of bed. He looks way to angelic for you to want to leave.

Suddenly it occurs to you what woke you up. Or what didn’t wake you up. You scramble to pick up your phone and after realizing it was 1:20 pm on a Monday morning, your heart practically dropped.

“Ethan. Ethan, fuck, wake up.” You panic shaking your boyfriend awake. Ethan stirs gently, reaching up to block the sun out of his eyes as he opens them.

“Hm?” He hums, shifting around in your bed. He repositions himself and proceeds to try and pull the covers up past his chest.

“Baby, my alarm, it-it didn’t go off. We have to get up, like, now.” You say, turning over to face him and push his curls out from in front of his face.

You let the covers go, allowing Ethan to swaddle himself in them, your black lacy bra that had been previously covered, now showing.

“What?” Ethan asks again, opening his eyes fully to look at you. His voice is deep raspy from sleep.

“We’re going to be late for class, Ethan. Shit, what are we going to go? I completely forgot we had that lecture today.”

Ethan groans and grabs your body swiftly, causing you to basically fall on top of him. As he engulfs you in his arms, he pulls your entire body into his, allowing your head resting on top of his chest.

As if it were muscle memory, your arms wrap around his half nude body, kissing at his warm chest. He smells like roses and the cheap cologne you bought him for his birthday almost year ago.

His hands move to wrap around your shoulders as he kisses you on the temple, “Mm, stay in bed.” He mumbles, closing his eyes and now kissing your lips softly.

You shake your head and much to your own protest, pull away from him. Ethan only lets out soft groans of protest as you sit up on his chest facing him. His eyes open, squinting softly, his hands rub along your thighs tenderly.

“Baby, please.” He whines pouting his lip out, eyes now straining due to the sun.

“We can’t skip again, love. Mr. Brown said last Thursday was our final warning.” You say leaning down and kissing his swollen lips repeatedly.

Suddenly, Ethan’s eyes open fully scanning yours, “He did?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You smile at the clueless boy, leaning over to get off of him. He moans softly at the loss of your comfort but you dismiss him with another soft peck to the face. Standing up out of bed, you sigh mumbling to yourself as Ethan rubs his eyes, attempting to rid them of sleep.

“Shit, wait, what time is it?” He asks reaching over to your side of the bed, seaching for your phone to check the time.

“It’s 1:20. Class starts at 1:30.” You say walking past him, heading toward your bathroom.

“Oh, Fuck.” He groans, slowly pulling himself out of bed to follow you.

“Damnit, I have to shower. We’re gonna be late for sure.” You sigh running your fingers through your hair.

Looking through the mirror you notice the top half of your body completely littered in hickey’s, each one bigger than the last. Your makeup has smudged and once again, you wonder what the hell happened last night.

Hastily, you turn on the shower water taking off your undergarments. Not waiting for the shower to warm up, you step in and shiver.

It hasn’t even been a minute before Ethan promptly opens the shower curtain and steps in with you. Before you can even ask, he kisses you, pulling your body onto to his.

“Eth-“ You start but he smirks, kissing you tenderly cupping your mouth onto his. He deepens the kiss but quickly pulls away, watching the water flow down your body.

“I'm sure they won't mind if we're late just this once, hm?”