#Pink Salt Tiles

[buildsaltwall]

The Rise of Himalayan Salt Bricks Walls for Better Sleep

Himalayan salt bricks wall treatments aren't only a decoration that's very much in trend in your home they also come with various health advantages that can lead to better sleep and overall wellness. Himalayan salt walls are believed to provide natural, soothing, and therapeutic at-home solutions, which is why more people are looking for such for better sleep quality. This article will cover how salt walls work and what benefits they can have for your sleep environment.

What are Himalayan salt Bricks walls?

History and Origins of Himalayan Salt

This natural salt is millions of years old and has formed as the oceans evaporated in the early history of the earth. It is highly prized for its rich mineral content and unique pink color derived from iron oxide.

How Himalayan Salt Bricks Walls Are Designed?

Himalayan salt bricks walls are made from big blocks of Himalayan salt that have been deeply trimmed. They can be incorporated into anything from homes to spas, wellness centers, and beyond with aesthetic beauty and health benefits!

How Himalayan Pink Salt Walls Benefit Air Quality

3.1 Negative Ions and Their Effects

One of the biggest benefits of Himalayan salt bricks walls on sleep is its ability to release negative ions. Charged particles known to reduce the amount of pollutants in the air--these ions are particles that carry an electrical charge. Negative ions also help to neutralize dust, pollen, and other allergens, thus making the environment cleaner, which leads to better sleep.

3.2 More Oxygen Circulation in the Room

Additionally, negative ions increase the flow of oxygen in the room, thus increasing the absorption of oxygen in our blood stream. This may encourage better circulation and ultimately better sleep quality by making it easier to breathe while you sleep.”

Himalayan Salt Bricks Walls: Their Connection To Serenity

4.1 Salts and Stress Relief

Himalayan salt is said to be calming. When heated, it can produce a relaxing sensation that alleviates anxiety and tension. The salt wall fosters a peaceful ambience, signaling to your body that it’s time to unwind and making it easier to relax ahead of bedtime.

4.2 The Impact of Himalayan Salt on the Nervous System

The mineral-rich salt can additionally help both the nervous system and the elevated production of stress hormones (like cortisol). This can decrease anxiety levels and enable your mind and body to be in a more relaxed state, ideally suited to sleep.

How Himalayan Salt Walls Foster Sleep Disorders

5.1 How Salt Therapy Helps with Insomnia

Salt therapy has helped many insomniacs cope with their sleeplessness. Himalayan salt walls also aid by creating a relaxed environment that helps balance hormones and calm the mind, all essential for a good night's sleep.

5.2 Relieving Sleep Apnea Relieving

This method of Himalayan salt therapy will generally be good for those who suffer from sleeping problems, sleep apnea, snoring, etc. Salt can improve airflow, which opens the airways and allows the user to take deeper, easier breaths while sleeping.

Himalayan Salt Walls: Creating a Soothing Sanctuary

6 The Visual Appeal of Salt Walls

Not to mention that Himalayan salt bricks walls are visually impressive. Salt blocks add a beautiful, warm glow that gives any room a cozy feel. This soft, calming light is perfect for creating a mood that promotes relaxation and allows you to unwind before going to bed.

6.2 Transforming Your Personal Space Into a Spa for Ideal Slumber

You can bring the ambiance of a luxury spa to your bedroom or sleep space by adding Himalayan salt walls. This calm environment encourages mental and physical relaxation, which makes it easier to drift off into a restful night’s sleep.

The Himalayan Salt Walls and Their Impact on Mental Health

Salt Walls to Relieve Stress and Anxiety 7.1

Many people find Himalayan salt bricks walls to be very helpful for their mental health. Salt therapy has a calming effect on the body, relieving stress and anxiety, which can contribute to poor sleep. By aiding in balancing the body’s stress response, Himalayan salt walls create a soothing space for sleep.

7.2 Elevating Mood and Alleviating Emotional Fluctuations

Furthermore, Himalayan salt not only improves relaxation , but its negative ions can help elevate mood and relieve depression symptoms for an overall better emotional state. This boost in mental wellness can also lead to more solid and uninterrupted sleep.

Benefits of Himalayan Salt Walls for Sleep: Scientific Studies

8.1 The Science Behind Salt Therapy

Himalayan salt walls are known to emit negative ions, and according to studies, they can improve air quality levels, increase oxygen levels in the blood, and make a significant difference to mental health! Salt therapy is known to improve sleep in many users, as well as having positive health effects.

8.2 Evidence Linking Himalayan Salt to Sleep Improvement

Himalayan salt therapy has been scientifically proven to improve sleep patterns in individuals suffering from respiratory issues or anxiety. Studies show that salt walls have soothing effects, helping you achieve deeper, more restorative sleep.

How to Use Himalayan Salt Walls in Your Home

We Hope You Enjoy Your Experience with Lifestyle.

Himalayan salt bricks walls come in different sizes, so pay attention to how much space you have available and how much exposure you desire when choosing one for your home. Smaller walls can suit bedrooms or meditation rooms, while larger installations can have a more dramatic impact in living areas.

9.2 Placement Tips for Optimal Efficiency

To maximize the benefits your Himalayan salt wall will provide, position it where negative ions can flow easily. Make sure that the area is well-aired and that salt blocks are not blocked off by furniture or anything.

So, is a Himalayan Salt Wall the solution to enhance your sleep?

This is where Himalayan salt walls can add much more than visual appeal to your sleep environment. Scientific reasons (the health benefits, like better air quality or reduced stress, that all support respiratory health and play into sleep) combined with poetic reasons (getting outside makes you happy) encapsulate why we should get out more for sleep. A Himalayan salt wall can be a stunning and effective addition to your home if you want a natural way to improve your rest.

FAQs

How Do Himalayan Salt Bricks Walls Help with Sleep?

Himalayan salt walls, which are built with pink Himalayan salt bricks, work by emitting negative ions that purify the air while also producing a calming effect. This helps create a calm environment which may help facilitate better sleep quality.

Is Himalayan salt wall effective for insomnia?

Yes, Himalayan salt walls have calming effects that can help ease you into sleep and promote moments of sleep, which can also help ease anxiety and stress, both of which are prevalent causes of insomnia.

Can sleeping on a Himalayan salt wall cure your breathing problems?

Yes, the salt walls help clear the airways, allowing for easier, more effective breathing while sleeping, which is good for people with sleep apnea, for example.

[willahollandblogs]

Enhance Your Space with Premium Himalayan Salt Tiles

Himalayan salt tiles are a unique and stylish way to elevate any interior space. Whether you’re looking for a natural wellness solution or an aesthetic upgrade, Himalayan Salt Tiles provide both beauty and health benefits. As a leading salt tile exporter, manufacturer, and supplier, we offer top-quality Himalayan salt tiles for walls and other applications.

What Are Himalayan Salt Tiles?

Himalayan salt tiles are crafted from natural pink salt, mined from the foothills of the Himalayan mountains. These tiles are known for their warm, soothing glow and their ability to improve indoor air quality by releasing negative ions.

Why Choose Himalayan Salt Tiles?

Natural Air Purifier – Helps remove toxins and allergens from the air.

Aesthetic Appeal – Adds a warm, rustic, and luxurious touch to any space.

Health Benefits – May help reduce stress, improve sleep, and enhance relaxation.

Versatile Applications – Perfect for salt rooms, spas, yoga studios, and home décor.

High-Quality Salt Tile Exporter & Manufacturer

As a trusted salt tile exporter and manufacturer, we ensure our salt tiles are hand-carved with precision. We deliver high-quality pink salt tiles that are durable and enhance any interior space with their natural beauty.

Himalayan Salt Tiles for Wall Installations

If you want to create a breathtaking feature wall, Himalayan salt tiles for walls are a perfect choice. Whether for home, office, or wellness centers, these tiles provide a warm, inviting ambiance while offering health benefits.

Himalayan Salt Bricks for Custom Projects

For those looking for a more versatile building material, Himalayan Salt Bricks are ideal for customized projects. Our Himalayan Salt Bricks exporter services ensure top-quality bricks for spas, wellness centers, and decorative installations.

Why Choose Us?

Premium Quality – 100% natural, authentic Himalayan salt.

Reliable Export Services – Trusted salt tile supplier with global reach.

Customization Available – Various sizes and shapes to fit your project needs.

Competitive Pricing – High-quality products at the best rates.

Final Thoughts

Whether you’re an interior designer, wellness center owner, or looking for a unique home décor solution, Himalayan Salt Tiles and Himalayan Salt Bricks provide a perfect balance of elegance and wellness. Contact us today for premium-quality salt tiles from a trusted salt tile manufacturer, supplier, and exporter!

[hloverheather]

[lalunanymph]

꒰ nanami is forced to put his sweet wife back in her place (under him) ꒱

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, wife!reader, ceo!reader, lifestyle dom!nanami, househusband!nanami, brat taming, hair pulling, overstimulation, sir kink, restraints, finger gagging, nipple play, use of vibrators, chair bondage, reader gets spanked, fear of cheating, unprotected s[e]x, collaring, oral s[e]x, kento mentions divorce playfully, nanami slaps his c*ck on reader's face and tongue, degradation, pet names (baby, little slut, love, darling, good girl), aftercare

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── 5k+ words because of mappa’s horniness they made him so big and beefy what did you expect me to do

“Fuck, baby, that’s a good girl.”

Your husband’s scratchy moan is followed by a tug to your hair. He’s got your locks in his firm, veiny grip, using it to guide your mouth up and down his flushed cock like you were nothing but a human fleshlight made just for him.

The kitchen clock ticks and you’re on your knees, still in your office blazer and figure-hugging skirt.

It was usually customary for you to greet your husband like this—like he’s pure treasure and deserves your devotion on these marbled tiles.

They were the same ones you bought with your twelve-month bonus, right when the company you spearheaded burst into the tech scene and started raking in the billions.

Through it all, Nanami Kento was with you, building your home while you changed the world.

More than anything, he was the rock which kept you from falling apart.

But, if they could see you now… how your mouth was slicked with a mixture of cum and spit and your eyes were woozy with bliss, they couldn’t tell that you were the same woman who once fired three directors on account of an embezzlement accusation. 

He pulled you off his flushed tip, those chiselled cheeks dusted with pink. Reacting like this, he was nothing more than an enamoured husband adoring his wife on her knees. But, you had been bad to him today, and bad girls didn’t deserve what they wanted. They needed to be put back in their place. 

Nanami tugged you up higher, enough to have you balancing on the slivers of your shins. His mouth found yours, insistent and hot with his lustful intention.

“Do you want your collar, baby?” His mouth was a stroke away from yours, warm breath caressing your tongue.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to break. The planes of your husband’s defined chest shook in a soft laugh as he let go of your hair—for now.

“Go and grab it, sweetheart. I'll wait for you.”

You did as he said, standing up on shaky legs that were riddled with pins and needles. He steadied you, looking ridiculously handsome even with his half-chub out and tiny pink apron still on. Nanami was just a man who could make even a trash bag work.

You stumbled into the bedroom, going straight for a drawer that was shut tightly. Using the key next to your perfume stand, you unlocked it, removing a smooth, dark leather strap with the words ‘Kento’s girl’ embedded into it with diamonds.

You heard your husband come back into the room, his body pressed behind yours as he took the collar from your shaking hands. Pushing your hair aside, he fastened it around your neck with a kiss to your earlobe.

“Shall we go back to what we were doing earlier?”

You slid back into your knees in response, shuffling to face him again. Those dark eyes appraised you with pride, tinged with an even darker possession.

“Always so pretty for me,” he hummed. “Aren’t you, my little slut?”

A dirty thrill shot down your spine, and you parted your mouth open on instinct. “Yes, Sir.”

Kento chuckled, giving his hard-hard cock a few pumps before nursing it back into your mouth. You sucked on the tip, tasting his musk and salt. Hollowing your cheeks, you took him deeper, till he hit the back of your throat, and whatever else you couldn’t fit, you fisted around the base of his cock to work it up and down.

Your husband hissed out a curse, and wound your hair back into his tight grip, watching you suck him off with barely concealed wonder. “Doing so good for me, love,” he murmured, a sharp tug on the nape of your neck making you wince and your pussy flood your red lace thong. “And to think you were just mouthing off to me earlier.”

You squirmed on your knees, needing to touch between your legs to ease the flame of desire only your husband could burn.

Kento used his sheer strength to pull you off his cock, and as if still punishing you, he slapped the tip of his fat dick onto your cheeks, coaxing your mouth open so he could do the same thing on your tongue. You didn’t complain, glad to be used as a stress reliever for your husband.

Pre-cum smeared your cheeks and spit was glossing your chin when you took him back down your throat again, this time with more urgency.

Kento was breathing deeper, his half-hooded eyes almost closing from your talented mouth. No one could suck cock as well as his wife could, and he would stand firm in that.

Your sheer hunger and eagerness blew everyone else out of the water, the devotion only you showed him shaping his unshakable love for you.

It's just too bad you had unintentionally insulted him where it hurt the most.

“Do you think you’re forgiven because I let you suck my cock?”

Before you could answer, you were wrenched off his dick, pushed back into your knees. Your cry of indignation was stopped when he shoved two thick fingers down your throat, gagging you with a wet choke.

You worked hard to please him—to apologise to him because you didn’t mean those words; they were just a product of a stressful day.

It’s not like you understand what the fuck I’m going through, Kento. You’re just a househusband who spends all day cleaning!

Careful, those dark eyes had narrowed at you. Do you want to repeat that, darling?

I said—

But, he never gave you a chance to finish.

As if remembering your painful words, Kento grunted, bringing you to your feet just so he could spread you face down, ass up onto your huge makeup counter. The mirror reflected back your desperate stare into your husband’s impassive face, his collar searing through your skin.

“Kento—“

Rough hands from days of labour pushed your skirt up, tugging your thong unceremoniously down your cheeks where the fabric burned against your sensitive skin. “Ah—!”

The first spank landed on your left globe, leaving a stinging pain on the tender flesh. He didn’t stop there—Kento viciously spanked your right cheek, then back to your left, alternating between them until you swore they were glowing hot like dying embers.

You were wincing and crying out softly, hair stuck to your temple and cheeks with sweat. The woman in the mirror had tears in her eyes, and her husband barely pay attention to her—just like how she had messed up and thought lowly of him for a split, disastrous second.

“I don’t know what you’re going through? Did you forget I used to be a salaryman, too, darling?”

His tone dripped with sardonic anger. Another spank, this time on your lower back. The tears broke down your face.

“I’m going to drill into that pretty head who owns you so you don’t mouth back to him. A househusband?” This hit was personal, right on your prickling left cheek. “Is that all you see me as? Do you think of me that lowly?”

Frustrated, Kento yanked your hair back at the same time he plunged two thick fingers into your glistening pussy.

“Oh—Kento!”

Your cry fell from your lax mouth, your eyes snapping close in ecstasy while he finger-fucked you roughly, tugging on your hair to deliver sharp prickles of torture down your spine.

The pain mixed with the pleasure till you couldn’t tell which one was which, your body spiraling closer and closer into delirium.

“Kento!” You sobbed, sure to have woken up the neighbors if your bedroom was soundproofed. “Oh, oh, ah—f-fuck, K-Kento, I-I—“

His forefinger was hitting that softest spot inside of you, and you ached to touch your clit to throw yourself down the agonizing high.

Without thinking it through, one hand drifted in between your thighs, and you managed about three shaky circles on your sensitive bud with your middle finger when Kento noticed and yanked your hand away. Your soft cry was muffled when he pushed your face into the hard word, breathing unsteadily.

“Who said you could touch yourself? Did I say you were given permission to?”

“N-No—“

But, Kento refused to listen to your excuses. “You’re misbehaving more and more tonight. I think I need to teach you an even bigger lesson.”

You could barely cry out a complaint when he manhandled you into his arms, bringing you back into the kitchen. Plopping you down onto the huge dining chair, he left you stewing in your thoughts, tense as to what he had next up his sleeve.

Nanami returned not a minute later with a pair of arm binders and leg cuffs, and your eyes widened when he immediately took your hands, placing them in the restrictive loop behind the chair. He worked on your legs next, fastening them to the wooden stems, while you continued to pathetically bleat apologies that rained on his deaf ears.

Once you were secured, Nanami took you in. 

Everything about you was softness and seduction, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was the luckiest bastard alive. I love her, Kento’s eyes shone when you blinked up at him, all innocent and cute like you weren’t exposed in such a lewd way. I love her so very much. 

“K-Ken,” you whined, shifting in your seat. The gesture unintentionally hiked your skirt further up your plush thighs. 

As much as he loved you, Nanami had to put you back in your place—get you to respect him, even as his cock is raging to sink into your tight heat.

He tapped your cheek, a stern look emblazoned on his handsome face. “That is not what you’re allowed to call me.” His big hand wrapped around your neck, digging into your pulse point—restricting the breath from going down your airways. Asserting his point. 

“Sir!” You managed to choke out. “S-Sir—”

Your wheeze turned into a cough when he let you go, your watery eyes looking up at him filled with nothing but remorse. 

Nanami toyed with the idea of letting you go once the regret settled in, but the other half of him—that darker impulse which bludgeoned his Jujutsu years with bloodshed and violence—reared its head. It was the same sickly thrill he got whenever he beat up a curse and managed to squeeze in no more than an hour of overtime to get back home to you.

For your credit, you always let him exact his pent-up rage onto your willing body—never bending or breaking your resolve. 

Even when he walks back into the bedroom to retrieve your most hated G-spot vibrator, or when he sank it almost lovingly into your waiting pussy, you could never hate your husband—even if he drove you half mad. 

Nanami stared at his phone screen, connecting the vibrator to the app it came with. You could tell he was completely focused on breaking you, his eyes never straying when he adjusted the settings.

Soon, a pleasant hum goes off in between your thighs, and you toss your head back, a dulcet whimper leaving your lips and saturating the air with your pure neediness. Your husband doesn’t react beyond crossing his arms over his hulking chest, studying you with those intense darkened eyes you could go insane for. 

The vibrator notch constantly rubbed on your G-spot, leaving your clit throbbing with abject neglect. You almost didn’t notice your husband pushing off the sleeves of your blazer, unbuttoning the crisp white dress shirt he had ironed this morning to expose the rise of your heaving tits covered in the red lacy bra he loved so much on you.

“You wore this today?” He fingered the lacy strap, and you hiccuped a stuttering y-yes. Your husband chuckled, easing down the cups so your nipples sprung forward, ready to be teased and touched. Kento hunched down next to you, his entirely bigger build almost draping across your lap as he ran his tongue over the rise of your plush flesh, growing closer and closer to your stiffening nipples. But, he never gave you what you wanted. 

Everytime his tongue so much as grazed your areola, he would pull back, leaving you keening with disappointment. Your thighs were starting to shake, the constant pressure on such a susceptible spot slowly making you lose your mind. Without the stimulation Kento was selfishly withholding, you were sure you would be strung along for hours until he decided to show you mercy. 

As it was, your husband was a stubborn man once he put his mind to something. You could barely think past the haze of your blurry thoughts, your mind filled with cotton when finally—finally—Kento sucked on your nipples. It was soft at first, barely any stimulation, but once he had a hit of you, Kento couldn’t stop. He suckled on your tits roughly, tonguing them harsh enough to make those sensitive buds throb. 

Then, he bit down on them, eliciting a soft cry past your swollen lips. Your hips had basically taken on a life of their own, undulating minutely to the cruel game Kento played on your body. 

Once you were on the precipice, needing just a bit more stimulation to topple over the edge, Kento pulled back. He stopped the vibrator with one tap on the screen, and you came crashing back down—body slumped against the chair.

“Sir,” you sobbed, unable to hold back those fat tears from chasing down your cheeks. 

Nanami barely gave you time to adjust to the cresting sensations. He stood back up to his full height, toying with his phone and sliding his thumb pad across the screen. The same motions were replicated within the vibrator between your legs—the alternating softness and sudden vigorous overstimulation wrecking your body into dividing sensations.

You didn’t know whether to flinch or lean into the pleasure—whether to cry or to moan. 

All you could do was let out a stream of weak Sir, please, oh—Sir, past your lax mouth, your body jerking like a puppet caught in the web of his control. 

If it wasn’t enough to torture you, Kento wanted to tease you, too. He continuously pinched your hard nipples, flicking them up and down with the tip of his thumb to get them all perky and desperate for him. 

He even knelt in between your thighs, looking up at you with those melting dark eyes while his thumb gently rubbed on your twitching clit. Your husband was doing everything in his power to get you to fold for him, and you were so close to putting aside your ego just to beg him to fuck you.

“S-Sir,” you sniffled. 

Kento glanced up at you, noticing the tears beading your lash line. He swiped his thumb under one bulging tear, wiping it away.

In contrast to his filthy actions, his words were soft and sweet. “What do you want, darling?” he added, “Do you want to cum?” 

You gave him a shaky nod. 

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” 

Disappointment curdled in your belly at his simple question. Kento was giving you a chance to apologise, and you could either take the high road and beg for his forgiveness, or let your bigheadedness keep you unsatisfied.

“I don’t,” you whispered, ducking your head in defeat. Kento hated to admit how a carnal wave of satisfaction curled right in his chest from your admission. “I was mean to you. Y-you did so much for me—” you lifted your hips, as if to alleviate the tense pleasure. “—I-I’m so sorry, Sir.” 

His big hand smoothed down your belly, settling on your hip. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead tenderly. Instead of accepting your apology, he smeared your tears away with patient lips, trailing down kisses to your neck, his tongue running across the collar which held his claim on you. 

“You’re forgiven, sweet girl,” your husband murmured, standing up to switch off the vibrator. You sagged back into the seat with a teary hiccup, peeling your glossy eyes on him so pathetically, his heart couldn’t help but squeeze. “Come on—let’s get you cleaned up.”

Kento removed your bindings, careful to help you stand up on your trembling legs. He held you close to his chest, rubbing those big, warm hands up and down your back to soothe your shuddering sobs. “There, there. You’re alright, baby. You’re fine.” He lifted you into his arms, careful to tuck your head on his shoulder as he carefully made his way back to the bedroom with you.

There, Nanami reverted back to his loving, devoted self—removing your blazer, dress shirt, and pencil skirt with reverence. He lifted your leg onto his shoulder, kissing your ankles before easing off your stockings smoothly. Once you were naked in front of him, it was his turn to undress.

Kento shed off the pink apron, removed his sweatpants and then his fitted cotton shirt, exposing his shredded torso lined with numerous thin, pale white scars. There was once he was afraid of showing them to you—his past bare for your fingers to trace. But, you loved kissing each and every mark left from wounds he could not explain to you. And Nanami was grateful.

He counted himself one of the luckiest sorcerers to make it out alive of that world and into a semi-normal one. He had a wife, a home, a decent car, plenty of time to unwind and relax—in short, he was living the dream he once saw as unattainable. And it was all thanks to you.

“Come here, baby.” Kento gathered you into his arms, careful to not put too much pressure on your sore butt. He traced your features, kissed your eyelids and cheeks until you stopped quietly sobbing, all wrung out and lying exhaustively on his chest. “Good girl—just take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

His voice was a deep, enticing baritone, inciting goosebumps on your arms and putting your guard down. Your eyes slipped closed and you inhaled unsteadily, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“One of my executives found out her husband was cheating on her and she completely lost it at work today.” 

Kento stopped stroking your shoulder. “What?” 

You nodded, keeping your face buried in his chest to avoid meeting his eyes. “He was a… a stay-at-home husband, too. She trusted him with the nanny and—and that woman knew her kids inside and out. I was so disgusted. I… I thought that—”

“You thought that I would do the same thing to you?”

Nanami wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t hard for him to piece two and two together—for him to see what was truly haunting you.

A minute of hesitation passed, and then, he felt you nod again. 

Nanami’s shoulders relaxed, and he tightened his grip on your tinier body. “I love you so much, Y/N. You know that, right? You’re the best part of my life. I’m so grateful you chose to marry me.”

His sincerity stopped you up short. You peeked from past your curtain of hair, finding him smiling gently at you. 

Perching half of your body up, you folded your arms on his chest, looking deeply into his eyes for the absolute truth. “If you ever fall out of love with me, Kento, please tell me. I won’t put up a fight if you want to leave me. Just don’t sneak around behind my back with someone else.”

How serious you looked, and those words… those words you spouted completely broke his heart. Kento’s expression fell, and he shook his head fiercely.

“You don’t get it, do you?” 

With barely any grace, he rolled you onto the bed, spreading your thighs around his waist. His hips drove against yours, cock sheathing in one fluid motion into your waiting pussy. The both of you cursed and cried out at the same time, heads thrown back and desire coursing freely in this bedroom. 

Nanami’s pace was brutal yet loving, his cock trying to bully into you what he had been desperately trying to show for the past few years you’ve both been blissfully married. 

He loves you—he would do anything to make you happy because your happiness was his own. 

“Nghh—Sir,” you whined, holding onto his biceps for dear life, trying hard not to fall around his cock without his permission. “Oh—oh, Kento, more, more—please, don’t stop—!”

He wasn’t planning to. If he could make you believe with his actions, Kento would keep at it until you finally accepted what he’d been feeling for all these years. 

He smudged endless kisses onto your cheeks, nose and lips, each time tasting your desperation a bit more. 

“Sir, can I please touch myself?” 

How sweet—you were waiting for his permission. In answer, Nanami plucked your hand from your side, placing it right in between your legs, implicitly telling you to pleasure yourself while he ruined your world. 

The both of you were hanging right on a thread, and the very second he felt your walls starting to melt around him, Kento pulled you in for a deep kiss, one which felt like it could break every resolve in your body. You became putty for him, dissolving into the kiss and his arms. 

You broke the second you felt his hot cum paint your walls, every fibre of your soul screaming out your husband’s name. “Kento,” you whimpered in between sloppy kisses, your bodies slippery with sweat. “Kento—”

Nanami caught you the second you sagged into his arms. With his ludicrous strength and yet, his gentleness, he easily rolled you against his chest, letting you catch your breath on top of him. His lips found your temple and hair, large palms methodically massaging your sore muscles. He gripped your ass, squeezing fondly and unhurriedly, content to enjoy this moment with you.

When you had finally stilled and your breathing returned to normal, Kento whispered: “I love you, darling. You know that, right?” 

Even with your raging insecurities, you couldn’t deny how sincere and sweet he sounded.

“I love you, too, Kento.”

Seriously now, he added: “And I won’t ever cheat on you because you’d take my car away first.”

You grinned, knowing that Nanami Kento was a man of his word and would never back down from it without a fight.

a/n: mappa made him so damn fuckable in the last ep as reparations for what they’re gonna do to him next im so sick

©️ lalunanymph, 2023

[heartsbyani]

ꛁ⑅ꛁ 𓂃 ‪ 현진 : NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU ── aftercare with your boyfriend, after a particularly long and rough night.

𓍯 idolbf!hyunjin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）0.8k ── ༯ HEADCANON, fluff, humour, aftercare, bathtub, bit suggestive, req. by anon! . ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ so considering the humongous amount of love the chan version got.. and after i got you luvies requesting me for other members' versions, guess who decided to make this into an ot8 drabble series? yes, me, clearly, i'm bad at humour, sorry. lowkey cringed with my single ass while writing this. thank you to my luv, anon, for requesting this, hope i have written it to your expectations! (╥﹏╥). seungmin's next ;3. so many asks, i'm gonna be posting daily, please be patient hehe. also i literally just reached 100 followers, and now i'm at 196..? this is actually crazy, i'm surprised and very grateful :(( comments, requests, asks likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the bathroom was dimly lit, a warm amber glow from the candles flickering against the soft ripples of the bathwater. hyunjin sat behind his girlfriend, his long arms wrapped securely around her waist as they sank into the warmth of the tub. steam curled lazily upward, carrying the scent of lavender bath salts that he’d carefully chosen to help her relax.

"you did so well," he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against the curve of her shoulder. his voice was soft, yet tired, warm, and filled with awe. "so beautiful, my girl."

she leaned her head back against his chest, her wet hair sticking slightly to his skin. she couldn’t help but squint her eyes and make a cringed expression at the constant dialogue. “babe, hyune, you’ve said that like, ten times already.”

“because i mean it,” he insisted, his brows knitting together in faux seriousness. he shifted slightly, tucking her closer against him. "but clearly, my gorgeous girlfriend doesn't care and love her wonderful boyfriend enough to appreciate praises," his hands roamed lazily over her arms, tracing delicate patterns with his fingertips as he dramatically sighed, as if straight out of a shakespearean school-play. however, his gentle tone moved to a more worried one. “i should’ve been gentler. was it too much? did i hurt you?” his voice dropped to a whisper, tinged with guilt.

she turned her head slightly, craning her neck to look at him. his dark eyes searched hers with a vulnerability that tugged at her heart. “hyunjin,” she said, her voice firm but kind, “you didn’t hurt me. i liked it.” her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “a lot, actually.”

his cheeks flushed a deep red, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck with a groan. “don’t say things like that,” he mumbled, his breath tickling her skin. “i’ll combust.”

“you’re the one who asked!” she teased, her laughter bouncing off the tiled bathroom walls.

he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, a playful pout on his pink lips. “i’m serious. i felt like i went too far. you’re precious to me, y/n. i just—” he trailed off, his voice catching slightly as his eyes softened. “i don’t ever want to hurt you.”

y/n reached up to cup his face, her thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “love, you were perfect,” she assured him, her tone gentle. “i promise. stop worrying, okay?”

his lips quirked into a small smile, and he turned his head to press a kiss to her palm. “okay,” he murmured. but a beat later, he was nuzzling her again, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “still, you’re incredible. i don’t deserve you.”

“oh, stop,” she groaned, though her cheeks were pink with his relentless compliments. she reached back to poke his ribs, making him squirm and laugh. “one more, and i'm gonna leave you alone in the tub.”

hyunjin caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as he brought them to his lips. “pfft, as if you'd do that,” he said simply, his tone teasing but tender. “you love me too much, plus you're liking it.”

y/n shook her head, biting back a grin. “you’re delusional.”

“is it so wrong to be obsessed with your girlfriend?” he quipped, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her temple. his free hand moved to trace along her collarbone, his touch feather-light. “but really,” he whispered, his tone dropping to something more intimate. “you did so well, y/n. i’m so proud of you.”

her heart skipped a beat at his words, warmth blooming in her chest. “hyunjin,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

“hmm?” he tilted his head, brushing his nose against her damp hair.

“thank you,” she said softly, turning slightly to face him. “for always making me feel loved.”

his expression melted into one of pure adoration, and he cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking over her skin. “always,” he vowed. “you’re everything to me.”

the moment hung between them, tender and fragile, before y/n broke it with a cheeky grin. “you know, for someone who claims he doesn’t deserve me, you’re awfully good at making me feel like a queen.”

hyunjin threw his head back with a laugh, his chest rumbling against her back. “well, you are,” he said, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of her nose. “so get used to it.”

“hey!” she squealed, laughing as he tightened his arms around her and kissed her cheek repeatedly.

the two dissolved into a fit of giggles, their laughter filling the cozy space. when they finally calmed, hyunjin rested his chin on her shoulder, his arms still securely around her. “i’m so lucky,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah, you are,” y/n teased, leaning back against him with a contented sigh.

hyunjin chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. “my girl,” he whispered again, the words a soft promise.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily thank you luvie <3

[s4nniebe4r]

dibs

pairing: rival! yunho x fem! reader

synopsis: somebody keeps stealing your favorite chair

wc: 4.2k 

tags: fluff, slice of life, light use of explicit language

etc: this is a major rework of a fic i wrote previously elsewhere, it’s been on my mind for a while… thinking about a potential part two, but i’ve got to work out the kinks and whatnot, as always not thoroughly proofread!

The library is quieter than usual when you step inside, it’s the kind of quiet that makes you hyper-aware of every little sound—your footsteps against the aged tiled floor, soft rustling of pages as students flipped through their overpriced textbooks, and the humming of a printer in the distance. You adjust the strap of your bag and exhale, already sorting through the mental checklist of everything you need to get done for this session. 

It’s a lot. Too much, honestly. You’ve got a paper due, an exam to study for, and some general note-taking, a headache was already starting to form, and a general sense of dread was setting in. 

But it’s fine. It’s fine. Because at least you have your seat. 

The one by the window. The one where the light filters in just right, making the otherwise dull atmosphere of the library feel a little less draining. That seat made you understand just how a cat feels curling up under the sun taking a nap; so cozy, so at ease. And it was comfortable—more than the others, anyways—cushioned, in a way that doesn’t make your back regret ever meeting it. From where that chair was, you were perched over and away from the vast majority of the library, but you were easily able to people-watch as they came. It’s a small comfort in a long day, and you’re holding onto it. You always do. 

Or at least, you did. 

Because when you rounded the last bookshelf, ready to collapse into your little area of familiarity, you see him. 

Sitting in your chair. 

Some guy, completely absorbed in whatever’s on his laptop screen. He had himself in your chair. He wore a loose-fitted crew neck, and jeans, his hair tucked lazily under his beanie… his outfit portrayed how he looked in your chair; far too comfortable. His fingers were lazily tapping against his coffee cup, so carefree, like he has nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. Like he belongs there. Which, of course, was far from true. 

So you stop, standing there longer than necessary, waiting for some kind of divine intervention, or universal fixture to this. Maybe, just maybe he’ll look up, and sense your suffering in silence, and move along with his life. Maybe he’ll realize that this chair was not his to sit in. 

But, neither happens. Nothing happens. 

Instead, he stretches a little, shifting like he’s settling further into his seat, and you feel an actual physical reaction—something between the lines of heartbreak and bitterness, maybe a little irritation mixed along. Irritation with yourself, maybe? You don’t own the chair, obviously… you know this. But, it’s yours. 

It’s yours. 

For a second, you debate saying something. You could ask if he plans on staying for long. Maybe drop some sort of passive aggressive hint? There was always the seat across, but that felt too cruel, like salt rubbed into your already stinging wound. 

You were lost in thought, but then his eyes flick up—just for a second, barely long enough to register your presence—before he goes right back to whatever it was that he was doing. There’s a light sprinkle of pink that appears on his face after a second. And his lips purse into a straight line, before the tug upward ever so slightly. 

And that’s when you realize. 

He knows. 

There’s something about the way his lips are twitching, like he’s trying not to smile, and it’s enough to tell you that he’s fully aware of what he’s done. Like he’s waiting to see what you plan on doing about it. 

A small heat courses through you, enough to make you pull out the chair from beside you without much of a second thought. So, without any other choice, you sit. You sit in the only other available spot at the table—that godforsaken, awful wooden chair across from him. The one that’s stiff and unforgiving, it’s everything wrong with seating. And you’re sure he knows that too, because now he really does smile, just barely, as he takes a slow sip of his iced coffee. 

You don’t look at him, as much as you want to, you don’t. You just open your laptop with a little more force than necessary, and start typing. You have no idea what you’re writing, but your fingertips tapped away at your keyboard. 

And so, you sat. Staring at the screen as you mindlessly wrote as the minutes passed. You figure at some point you’d write something useful. And then—because the universe just wasn’t done with you—somebody spoke up. 

“That chair’s not so bad, is it?”

With your fingers halting their motions, just hovering over the keyboard now. You slowly lift your gaze, and there he is, watching you over the rim of his coffee cup as he takes another sip, his eyes full of amusement. 

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. “It’s awful actually,” you deadpan. “And you’re in my seat.”

He hums lightly, shaking his head as he sets his cup down. “I wasn’t aware we called dibs here. And I didn’t see your name on it.”

Oh, you hate him. Instantly. Viscerally. 

“Didn’t realize I needed to,” you reply. “Considering I sit here every time I come here.” 

“Ah.” He nods, like the information is new and groundbreaking. “Well, I'm sitting here now.” He said it so casually. 

Your jaw tightens, almost locking into place. “Yeah. I gathered that.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, head tilted slightly, a slow, insufferable smile forming. It was almost to the point where you could describe it as shit-eating. And just as he grins, he reaches for his laptop, shifting it slightly—just enough to make it painfully clear that he has no intention of moving. 

Fine. That’s just fine. You weren’t about to let some bratty stranger ruin your day. 

You refocus onto your screen, posture stiff no thanks to the chair you were forced upon, fingers aggressively typing out something—anything—to keep from glaring at him. But your mind is already racing, planning every possible way you could reclaim your rightful spot without actually asking. 

You could get here earlier tomorrow. Beat him to it.

It wouldn’t be that hard. So, you let the thought settle, a slow petty satisfaction creeping in. You continue writing whatever it is that you are, and think of tomorrow. 

You walk into the library, this time with a little bounce in your step, a satisfied little smirk tugging at your lips as you take a slow, victorious sip of your drink. It’s sweet, something fruity with just the right amount of tartness; a perfect mix, like the universe was apologizing for yesterday.

Today, you were winning, and you made sure of it. 

You left earlier than usual, cutting through campus like you were a woman on a mission, and you did sacrifice your usual few minutes of mindless rotting on socials just to be here. Before anyone else, but especially before him. If yesterday was an unfortunate twist of fate, today is divine justice. That chair is yours, and you’re going to sit in it. Reclaim it. 

And so, with the extra pep in your stride, you weave through the aisle, your fingers tightening around your cup, anticipation creeping up on you. The closer you get, the more your confidence builds, your mind already savoring the feeling of sinking back in your spot, watching the light filter through the window, so perfectly onto your back. The thought of stretching out into the space that’s so perfectly yours that you could, well you could nearly—

And then, the world stops. 

You see it. 

Rather, you see, him. Sitting in your chair. Again. 

You come to a dead stop, nearly choking on your own drink in disbelief. 

He’s there, again, stretched out in your chair. His laptop is already open, positioned at just the right angle, his fingers yet again lazily tapping away against the keyboard like he has all the time in the world. His iced coffee—which frankly, he doesn't deserve—sits right beside him, condensation trailing down and onto the wooden table. An easy sign that he’s been here for a while. 

Like he planned this. Like he knew. 

He looks up. 

His eyes meet yours, just for a second, and then, the slowest, most insufferable grin spreads across his face. The same shit-eating grin from yesterday. It makes your stomach twist in a way you absolutely refuse to acknowledge. 

He raises his cup slightly, like a toast. 

“Morning.”

You can’t pull yourself to say anything. So you just blink at him. 

He knows. He absolutely knows. He knows that you know, that he knows. 

“Are you,” you exhale sharply through your nose, tightening your grip on your cup, almost to the point of spilling. “Are you serious?”

He just shrugs. “What? You didn’t call dibs.”

With every fiber of your being, you absolutely hate him.

“You—” you glance up at the clock on the wall, you are scrambling to process this. “What time did you even get here?”

“Earlier than you,” he replies smoothly, taking a slow sip of his coffee. 

You grimace. 

He just looks at you. Calm and amused. Infuriatingly so. He seems the type to enjoy watching people unravel. But you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that this has genuinely thrown you off. 

So, instead, you gather everything together in you, lift your chin ever so slightly, and step forward. 

“Fine.”

You grab the same god-awful chair from yesterday—the chair that has no business even existing—and sit across from him. 

And him?

Still wearing that same stupid smile. 

The third day comes around, and you’re prepared. 

You don’t just leave early, you have a clear cut plan. Perfectly executed. 

And now, here you are, victorious.

Sitting in your rightful spot, drink in hand, soaking in the warmth of your cozy little chair. The sunlight filtering through the window, hitting just the right angle on your back, and you lean into it, savoring every single second. It’s sweet, really. You won. 

It honestly should feel a little embarrassing how smug you feel about it, but you didn’t mind too much. He did have it coming. If he thought he could steal your chair two days in a row, then he clearly had you grossly underestimated your willpower to be petty. 

You’re mid-sip, indulging in your well-earned satisfaction, when you hear the footsteps. The presence. The slight pause in movement, like someone just registered something unexpected, just as you had the days prior. 

You glance up, and there he is. 

He stands a few feet away, his bag slung over his right shoulder, his iced coffee in his opposite hand. His head tilts slightly as he takes in the scene before him. 

Then, the slowest, most ridiculously amused smile spreads across his face, leaving you curious. 

“Oh, wow.” He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “You really wanted that seat, did you?”

You set your drink down, crossing your legs, leaning back into the chair like second nature. “What can I say? Everything returns to how it should be. This is universal justice.”

His lips twitch, brows furrowed, like he’s holding back a laugh. “Right. And by justice, you mean beating me here by, what? A few minutes?”

“Not my fault you slacked today.” You say, raising an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve lost your edge.”

His eyes narrow ever so slightly. Not in an irritated way, more like he’s intrigued. He studied you for a second longer, then—

“Well.” He exhales once more, tapping his fingers against his cup. “Guess I’ll just have to take the seat across from you then, won’t I?”

And your smugness falters, just a little. 

Because of course he would. 

You shift, sitting up slightly as he moves, pulling out the chair across from yours—the very same god-forsaken, uncomfortable, completely cursed chair that you suffered in for the past two days. Except, unlike you, he doesn’t seem remotely bothered, not in the slightest. He just sets his drink down, slides into the seat, and looks right at you, as if this is all completely normal. 

You narrow your eyes. “You’re really going to sit there?”

He lifts a brow. “Did you call dibs on this too?”

Your jaw tightens at the audacity this man has. 

He takes a slow sip of his coffee, mockingly slow, before setting it down. “Besides,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, “it’s kind of nice sitting across from someone. Good company and all.”

You blink. “...We’re not company.”

“Sure we are.” 

“No, we’re not.”

He hums, unconvinced. Then after a beat he speaks again. “So, what’s your name, then?”

You pause, skeptical. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Figured if we’re gonna keep stealing seats from each other, we might as well know what to call one another.”

You study him for a moment. There’s something genuinely amazed in his expression, like he’s been entertained by you this entire time. Like this has been fun for him. 

Before you can answer, he glances at your cup, then gives you that familiar shit-eating grin. “Y/N.”

Your eyes widen. “How do you—?”

He nods at your drink. “Your name’s on the cup, genius.”

You glance down, and sure enough, there it is, scrawled in black marker across the side of your cup. 

“Oh,” you blink, feeling a little ridiculous. “Right.”

He chuckles softly, turning his own cup slightly so you can see the name written on it. 

Yunho. 

Your eyes trace over the letters as he leans forward, just a little, barely noticeable, and rests his forearms on the table. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, voice so smooth, almost like he was teasing. “I’m Yunho.”

You roll his name around in your mind. Yunho. It suits him, somehow. 

You take a moment to clear your throat. “Well, Yunho,” you say, meeting his gaze. “Just so we’re clear—this seat is mine.”

His grin only widens. “We’ll see.”

The fourth day, you tell yourself, is going to be different. 

Not because you’re going to get all worked up over a chair again. No, you’ve got things to do. Things a collegiate student has got to do; assignments to complete. You’re here for a productive study session.

Except, when you round that last corner again, Yunho is already there. 

He’s sitting in your seat and is wearing his signature smirk when he sees you approaching. 

“You’re slacking,” he says, sipping his iced coffee. “I expected better.”

You exhale through your nose, leveling him with a look. “I’m not here for games today.”

He raises an eyebrow, acting surprised. “Oh? Then what brings you to these parts?”

You wordlessly pull out the infamous chair across from him and sit down, dropping your bag onto the table. “I have work to do.”

Yunho leans forward, his hands cupping his chin as he looks up to you. “How tragic.”

You ignore him, taking out your laptop and flipping it open. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even pretend to do anything productive. Instead, he stays in the same state he was, his cheeks pressed against the palms of his hands. He just stays there for a minute, and then, his pen clicks.

You don’t acknowledge it at first. 

His pen continues to click. 

But you keep typing. 

And so does the clicking. 

You pause. Inhaling sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed, and then resume your work. 

A thumb presses down on the end of his pen a few more times and the clicks practically echo through your ears. You can only take so much of it. You slap your hand down on the table, making the pen jump from his grasp. “Do you have an actual reason to be here, or are you just here to irritate me?”

Yunho blinks. Then he grins. “Oh, I definitely have work to do.”

“...Then do it.”

He shrugs. “I work better with background noise.”

You let out a short and dry laugh, almost sounding strained. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?”

He tilts his head, clearly entertained by what you had to say. “What, you think I just came here to mess with you, someone I met only three days ago?”

“Yes.”

He scoffs before placing a hand over his chest in dramatics. “I am appalled by your false ideologies.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to your laptop. “If you have actual work, do it. Otherwise, find someone else to annoy.”

“Tempting,” he says, “but no one else reacts quite as such as you.”

You make it a point to ignore him, willing yourself to focus on the assignment. For a few minutes, it works, it’s quiet, save for the faint sounds of typing and shuffling pages behind you. You start to think maybe, just maybe, you’ll get some work done today. 

Then he speaks again. 

“I think you should take a break.”

You don’t stop typing, you don’t even look up. “I’ve been working for ten minutes.”

“Exactly. I think you’re overworking yourself.”

Your lips pressed together in a straight, thin line. “You just want me to stop working so you can bother me more.”

“Maybe,” he admits. Then after a beat, “Or maybe I just think it’s a little unfair that we’re sitting here and not talking.”

You finally glance at him, skeptical, wary. “Why do you want to talk to me so badly?”

He sits and acts as if he’s thinking hard on the topic, going far enough to point a finger to his lips as his eyes furrow into each other, like he’s deep in thought. He seemed to enjoy this. Humming, he says “Maybe because you’re the only person in this library that looks personally offended by my being here.”

You scowl. “I’m not offended. Just… mildly inconvenienced.”

“Ah, so you do like me then.”

You scoff, turning back to your laptop. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Yunho.”

He hums, seemingly satisfied. “Oh, so now you’re calling me by my name?”

You don’t respond, instead pretending to type something important. Yunho chuckles softly before reaching for his coffee, taking a slow, deep sip as he watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. 

Eventually, his eyes shifted from you, to your laptop, he appeared to be tuning into the sound of the keys clacking, one after the other. And from the laptop, his eyes followed to the drink you brought with. A sixteen ounce iced strawberry lemonade mixed with black tea and popping boba. The exact order stickered onto the side of the cup with your name scribbled to the left.  The exact same one from the days before. 

Eventually, he followed your lead and did his own studying, both of you working silently away. The minutes continued on as the two of you were engulfed in your academics, until eventually the library closed for the day, the two of you heading your separate ways. 

You’re already running late, which never happens. Usually, you’re the first one at the library, tucked into your usual spot before the place fills up. But today, Thirty minutes were stolen from you. You were in your sweatpants, and barely awake. And of course, as you rounded the corner, the first thing you see when you walk in is Yunho—leaning into the chair, looking up from his laptop.

“Thought I’d see you eventually,” he says, casually stirring his drink in his hand. “Here.” he continues as he pushes a familiar pink drink your way. 

You blink at him. “You- you ordered for me?”

Yunho shrugs, just pushing the cup even further across the table. “You’re never this late. Figured something tragic must’ve happened, like, maybe you overslept for the first time in your life.”

You narrowed your eyes, inspecting the label. Sure enough, it’s exactly what you would have ordered given the chance. “How would you even know what I get?”

“Habit of mine,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I pay attention.”

You let out a breath of air, sliding into the chair across from him and flipping open your laptop. “That’s a little creepy.”

“Oh definitely.” He takes a sip of his drink, then gestures at your outfit with an amused look. “Gotta say, sweatpants are a new look for you.”

You just groan. “Don’t start.”

“No, I mean it,” he says, leaning back, his grin only widening. “It’s a good look on you.”

You pause. Blinking at him again. He isn’t teasing—well, maybe a little—but there’s something fairly effortless about the way he says it that makes your face warm, just a little. It’s either the sheer confidence of it or the fact that it’s coming from him, of all people. However, you are determined not to let him get the upper hand, you roll your eyes and turn your attention to your laptop. “What are you pretending to work on today?”

“Same thing as you.”

Your lips pulled to one side, almost frowning. “What?”

“We’re in the same class, genius.”

Your brain practically stutters. “No we’re not—”

“East wing, big lecture hall, right? Got to be at least two hundred students? You sit near the front.”

You hesitate for a moment before you nod.

Yunho raises a brow, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Exactly. I sit further back.”

You stare at him, trying to process this information. “You’ve been in my class this whole time?”

He nods, tapping his fingers against the table. “Guess you just never noticed.”

Your cheeks flushed a rosy color again. You go to open your mouth, then close it again in a hurry. You don’t know why you’re feeling so oddly flustered. “Well, sorry, but I actually pay attention to the professor, not the people behind me.”

Yunho chuckles. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Something about the way he says it—lighthearted, so amused, but also kind of observant—it makes your stomach continue to twist in a weird way. Has he been noticing you this whole time? Shaking the thought away, you change the subject. “Alright, so what’s the assignment this time?”

“The paper. The one due next week.”

You groan yet again, rubbing your temples in slight pain of the topic. “Right. That one.”

Yunho tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t started.”

“Oh, I’ve started,” you mutter. “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

He chuckles, nodding in a quiet understanding before he talks again. “Yeah, I get that. I’m still trying to wrap my head around half the material myself.”

You glance at him, curiosity now piqued. “You don’t get it?”

“Not all of it,” he admits, spinning the pen effortlessly between his fingers. It almost seemed dwarfed in his hand. “Takes me a while to really absorb everything. That’s why I usually keep studying after the library closes.”

You blink, taking in the almost shocking information. “Wait—you study after the library closes?”

Yunho shrugs. “Yeah. Just go back to my dorm and keep going until it just sticks.”

Something about that makes you pause. You’ve never really thought about how he works, you always assumed he was the kind of person who breezed through everything, given his calm and collected demeanor. The idea that he has to put in extra effort, that he stays up late grinding through the material, makes you look at him differently. “I didn’t know you studied that hard,” you say.

Yunho tilts his head sideways, leaning in. His head perched on his left hand whilst his right continues bobbing the pen back and forth.  “Some of us aren’t naturally geniuses.”

You huff a small laugh in retort. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.”

He stares back at you before letting his lips twitch upwards. “Oh? And miss out on all of this? Nah.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something about the exchange that feels a little different. Less like your usual bickering, there’s a little something more to his teasing this time, even if it’s small.

The thought lingers as you turn back to your laptop, typing out a few sentences before glancing at him again. He’s still spinning his pen, deep in thought, lips slightly pursed. He must sense you watching him because he looks up, eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your breath catch for just a second. 

He tilts his head. “What?”

You shake your head quickly, looking away. “Nothing.”

There’s a pause. And then, “You know, if you’re feeling generous, you could help me study sometime. You know, you do owe me a drink.”

You glance back at him, raising a brow. “After the library closes?”

His lips quirk up. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

A small silence settles between the two of you. He’s sitting there with a grin on his face, not the usually shit-eating one, but an easy one, something that makes you feel uncomfortably calm. You tap your finger against your laptop, considering the offer. 

“Maybe,” you say. “If you promise to stop making fun of my sweatpants.”

His grin grows a little deeper. “No promises.”

You roll your eyes yet again, but your lips twitch up despite your knowledge. The assignment still looms over you, and you know there’s work to be done, but for now, maybe you could let it wait. There’s always time to study after the library closes. 

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[issues4him]

Angst request

Pregnancy scare maybe when Hunter is 4-5 and the kids are older and they both decided after Hunter they were done but rage hasn’t gotten a vasectomy yet and sahm is either not on BC or bad at taking it haha

Mom freaks out and gets overwhelmed thinking about it and Rafe doesn’t see what’s wrong with a fourth baby but mom says they agreed on having just three kids and they kinda fight over it and when mom finds out she isn’t pregnant/false positive or something

Her and Rafe make up and talk and he understands why she is so against a fourth baby bc of how difficult her last pregnancy was and I so see him getting a vasectomy to ease readers worries and so she doesn’t have to take BC and put hormones in her body anymore

sahm!reader and blue collar!rafe have a pregnancy scare after their 3rd

cw: so much angst, unwanted pregnancy by reader, mention of vasectomy

a/n: i decided to change it up just a bit to fit their storyline a little better! <3

it starts as a whisper of dread. you’re standing at the sink, rinsing a bowl of berries wren begged for, when it hits you again—that slow, queasy roll in your stomach that makes you grip the counter and blink through the nausea. it’s the third time this week. you’re not sick. you’re not overtired. you’ve been through this feeling before, and your body is screaming at you in a language it already knows: you’re late.

you try to rationalize it. you’ve been stressed. the kids have been wild. you haven’t been sleeping. but that little voice in the back of your head—the one that gets louder every time you glance at the calendar—won’t let it go. it’s been ten days. you slip into the bathroom once hunter goes down for his nap. you lock the door and lean your forehead against the cool wood for a moment before you reach into the cabinet. the test is shoved in the back, half-forgotten but never really out of mind.

it's nearly impossible to tell if there's a perpendicular line or not it's so faint, but you crumble anyway. you drop to the cold tile, your knees hitting it hard, hands trembling so badly the test slips from your grip. your breath comes too fast, too sharp, and suddenly your chest is tight and your head is swimming and all you can hear is the sound of your own fear. the air feels too thick. you taste salt.

not again. you had told him. after hunter, no more. the tears, the exhaustion, the loneliness that clung to you like fog even months after giving birth. the fact that hunter didn't almost make it and had to spend over 15 days in the nicu. it was all too much. you told rafe in quiet, desperate whispers one night while he rubbed your aching back and kissed the crown of your head, “i can’t do this again. i love our babies, but i can’t put myself through that again.”

but now you’re holding a test with the faintest pink line and the weight of another pregnancy suffocating you like a wet blanket.

you don’t tell him right away. he’s been gone since sunrise, running on fumes and black coffee, out at a job site over an hour away. by the time he walks through the front door—sweaty, sunburned, wearing that worn-out carhartt shirt that clings to every muscle—you’ve barely stopped crying long enough to rinse your face. he smiles the second he sees you in the kitchen, but the second he sees your face—he stops. his boots pause mid-step and his brow furrows, “hey, baby. what’s wrong?”

you swallow hard. you can’t say it. so instead, you hold out the test, barely able to look at him. his eyes drop to it. he takes it from your hands slowly.

and then—he grins, “no way,” he breathes, a little awe in his voice. “you’re serious?”

you say nothing. he looks up again. his grin falters, “w-baby, why are you crying?”

you step back like his touch might hurt. your voice comes out hoarse, thick with emotion, “because i didn’t want this, rafe.”

the air between you sharpens like glass. rafe’s face shifts. the joy disappears so fast you can almost hear it shatter, “baby it'll be okay--” he asks, blinking.

“no, rafe—"

“the hell you mean, no?”

“no! i thought you’d be devastated just like me! you saw what happened last time! you saw me fall apart. and i told you—i told you i couldn’t go through that again—”

“so what?” his voice rises, not angry but wounded. “you just decided for both of us?”

“i decided for me. for my health, rafe. for what i know i can and can’t handle. and right now? i can’t.”

his jaw flexes. his hands run through his hair. you’re both breathing hard, chest to chest, but a mile apart, “you're makin' it sound like having our kids ruined you or somethin'.”

that stops you cold. you blink at him like he just slapped you, “you think i don’t love our babies?”

“i don’t know what to think right now,” he mutters, voice cracking.

and then—you snap. the tears come again. not from fear. but from heartbreak. you shove the box of tests back at him. “i’m taking another one.”

ten minutes later, you stand in the doorway with two more tests in your hand. negative. rafe’s sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. you don’t say anything. just hold them out in his line of sight. he lifts his head, sees the results, and sighs—deep, long, slow. it doesn’t sound like relief. it sounds like grief. neither of you speak.

the silence lasts most of the night. you don’t touch during dinner. you don’t talk while folding laundry. the house feels heavier than usual. like the air’s too thick. like something sacred broke and neither of you know how to glue it back together.

but that night, after the kids are asleep, you find him on the porch. he’s leaning against the railing, shirtless, smoking a cigarette he probably swore off two months ago, just watching the stars. you step outside barefoot, arms crossed over your chest, the wood cool against your skin. he doesn’t look at you, but he speaks softly, “i’m sorry.”

you walk up to him slowly, letting your shoulder brush his, “me too.”

he puts the cigarette out and turns toward you, cupping your face in both hands. his voice is rough and cracked open, “i never meant to make you feel alone in this.”

“and I never meant to shut you out,” you whisper. “i just… i got scared.”

he leans down and kisses your forehead. “maybe it’s time i go get it done.”

your brows pinch, “what?”

“the vasectomy.” he shrugs. “if it means you don’t have to feel this kind of panic again? then yeah. i’m in.”

your eyes sting again, but not from fear this time. just… love. so much love you don’t know where to put it. you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his chest, letting him hold you the way he always does—like nothing else matters.

and maybe one day, this will just be a memory. a scare. a moment of fear. but tonight you fall asleep in his arms, not pregnant. not broken.

just safe.

[onlyquinns]

Hi! Currently dying in bed from period cramps. Could you write something about clayton keller or Michael kesselring trying to help?

hi anon!! i’m sorry if this is a little late, but i hope you’re doing well :(( i just know clay would def do his best to take ur cramps away i hope u enjoy :) <3

clayton knows that you’re expected to start your period that day, having been tracking it on his phone ever since the two of you started getting serious. so when he pushes the door open to your shared apartment, he’s not surprised to see the lights tuned off and you nowhere to be found.

he shucks off his jacket and quietly hangs it up, dropping his heavy gear bag by the door alongside his shoes. clayton places a small grocery bag onto the kitchen counter, its contents filled with chocolates and chips and any extra pain killers you might need. he hesitates a second, waiting to see if you and lucky will race to greet him at the door.

“baby?” he calls out softly when you don’t show, padding down the hallway and toward the bedroom. “you in here?” he pushes the door open slowly, finding you curled in on yourself, lucky pressed into you. the dog looks up at him, his tail wagging for a split second before he drops back down to comfort you.

you peer over at clay, eyes tired and lips pulled into a frown. he sees your hands curled over your stomach, a hot water bottle pressed to your shirt. you let out a sad whimper and drop your head, face pressed into lucky’s soft fur.

clayton walks over and runs his hands through your hair. “oh, baby,” he says softly, brushing loose strands away from your face. “let me run you a bath, yeah?” he asks softly, pulling away from you.

he moves through the apartment swiftly, going from the bedroom to the bathroom and quickly starting the tub and pouring generous amounts of epson salts into the quickly rising water. he then moves to the kitchen, pulling another hot water bottle out of a cabinet and preparing it to replace the one you’re holding after your bath. he hooks the grocery bag from earlier over his arm and sets the little snacks up near to couch—just in case you ask to cuddle and watch a silly romcom later.

when he’s done, clayton makes his way back to you, finding you exactly the same way you were before. “hey,” he says softly, prying your fingers away from the lukewarm water bottle. his heart breaks as you whine, grasping weakly. “c’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you in the tub, hmm?” when you don’t protest, clayton pulls you into his chest and carries you to the bathroom, lucky hot on his heels.

he helps you strip from your oversized tee, pulling the fabric from your body and dropping it onto the tiled flooring. he gives you a teasing smirk, hoping to lift your spirits even a little. you laugh weakly and smack at his arm, reveling in the smug smirk tugging at his lips. he leaves you to undress yourself afterwards, moving to the bedroom and piling the comforter and extra throw blankets into his arms to pop into the dryer while you bathe. he pulls out your pink heated blanket and drapes it onto your side of the bed, plugging it in and turning the dial up to five so it’ll already be warm for you.

when clayton returns to the bathroom, you’re curled up in the tub, hunched over your legs and your face pressed between your knees. lucky looks up at him from his spot on the plush gray bathmat, eyes sad and searching like he’s asking clayton to fix what’s wrong with you.

you tilt your head and look at clayton, hair pooling over your shoulder. he pulls his shirt over his head and you quietly admire the smooth panes of his torso, soft brown hair leading from under his bellybutton and into his jeans. you’re pulled from your reverie when clayton strips himself fully and moves to the tub, one leg already in the water behind you when you whine.

“noo,” you protest, eyes wide as you look at him. “it’s gross—i’m gross, clay.” you pout, letting him step in behind you and wrap his warm body around yours.

clayton chuckles softly, lips quirked upward in a crooked smile. he tucks his face against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the expanse of skin. “baby, i’m a hockey player,” he says between kisses, palms moving under the water to work any remaining aches from your upper thighs and hips before settling on your stomach. “a little blood doesn’t scare me.”

you lean backwards, letting his presence ground you. the bathroom is foggy, smelling sweetly of lavender and eucalyptus. “thank you, clay,” you murmur softly, looking up at him through your lashes.

he’s moved his head away from your shoulder to look down at you, smiling softly at the content look on your pretty face. “of course,” he says gently, pressing his lips to your forehead, “anything to make this easier for you.”

[burningembers91]

Grains of Sand - Hwang Jun-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Sleeping with the Enemy The Gangster's Wife Escape Plan Cabin in the Woods Down by the Sea

Synopsis: You and Hwang Jun-Ho spend the day together, and you start thinking about the future.

A/N: In this fic, Jun-Ho's hair has grown out a little, and this is 100% the hairstyle I was picturing:

The sun was dazzling, reflecting off the bright blue of the water with such a golden glare that you were forced to shade your eyes. The sea breeze whipped at your hair and clothes; the taste of salt fresh on your lips as you picked your way along the shoreline. Your bare feet pressed soft tracks into the wet sand, the feeling of the damp grains in between your toes oddly satisfying. Your sandals clasped in one hand, the other gripped tightly in Hwang Jun-Ho’s, you made your way along the beach, stopping every now and again to pick up a shell for the collection you’d started. “Oh my god!” you squealed, spying an iridescent pink shell, the rainbow sheen glinting in the sun. It would look perfect on the windowsill in your apartment, right next to your side of the bed. You didn’t notice the look of love on Jun-Ho’s face as you pocketed it, his cheesy grin spread wide across his face. You were like a whole new person since moving here, finally free of the violent hold your husband had on you. You were so relaxed, so vibrant and full of life.

You’d been on the beach for hours, just walking back and forth along the sand. Life was much slower these days, but you both preferred it that way. Sunday was Jun-Ho’s only day off work, and you made the most of it, waking up when the sun rose to spend as much time with each other as possible. He’d grown his hair out a little, the wind sending his locks out in all directions. You liked the longer length, liked gripping on to it when he made love to you. “Shall we go home?” Jun-Ho asked, pulling you in close to his body, the taste of salt on your skin as he kissed his way up your neck. “Ok,” you smiled, “but it’s your turn to make lunch.”

That was the beauty of your relationship; everything was equal. You took turns cooking and cleaning, sharing the weekly chores. Jun-Ho always made sure he did more than you, despite your protestations, but you’d spent so long with no one else to rely on, and he wanted to make sure he did everything he could to make you feel special. You walked leisurely home hand in hand, discussing what movie you’d watch that night. You’d never thought life could be perfect, but it finally was.

Your feet were still covered in sand when you got back to your apartment, the stubborn grains clinging to your soft skin. The more you brushed them away, the more that seemed to appear. They coated your calves, clung to your palms and fingertips, lodging themselves under your nails. “I’m going to need to have a shower,” you sighed, pulling your dress off and padding through to the bathroom. “Otherwise, we’ll be finding sand in the apartment for months.”

Turning on the hot water, you were just about to step under the stream when you felt arms encircle your waist, Jun-Ho’s breath warm against your neck. “Mind if I join?” he asked, nuzzling the soft spot on your neck, right behind your ear. You leaned yourself back into him, sighing contentedly as his hands trailed across your body. You helped him undress, admiring the toned muscles of his stomach and chest as you removed his t-shirt. His daily rigorous regime on the fishing boat had bulked him out, his biceps stretching the thing fabric of every shirt he wore.

You allowed yourself to be pushed gently against the cool tile, Jun-Ho kneeling before you as he cleaned the sand from your body. He started with your feet, massaging your arch and heels as he brushed the grains from your skin. The feel of his hands against your aching muscles was heavenly, a soft groan of appreciation falling from your lips. His hands moved up to your calves, then your thighs, his kisses mingling with the warm water of the shower. The mix of sensations was exquisite, your moans echoing off the tiled walls. “So needy,” he muttered, smiling as your fingers gripped his hair. “I wouldn’t be so needy if you didn’t make me feel so good,” you breathed, your last word cut short with a deep, hoarse groan as Jun-Ho slipped a finger inside of you.

He was still on his knees, staring up you like a worshiper praying to their God. His eyes were so full of love and devotion, his gaze trained on you as he brought his tongue against your sensitive clit. A string of praises fell from your lips, your back arching as you pushed yourself further into his touch. His mouth and fingers worked in tandem, bringing you to the edge of ecstasy. His eyes never left yours, and you knew he liked to watch when you came undone for him. Your whole body shuddered as you came around his fingers, your hands gripping his hair tightly as you held his face against your soaking core.

Jun-Ho finally rose from his position at your feet, sweeping you into the air and pinning you against the shower wall in one fluid motion. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his arms round your waist, his body flush against yours as he pushed himself inside of you. Now it was Jun-Ho’s turn to whimper and moan, the feel of your tight walls swallowing him whole never ceasing to take him by surprise. “You feel so good,” he whined, thrusting up into you again and again, chasing his high. His lips met yours, your kisses swallowing the other’s moans, the hot water streaming down your bodies. “Fuck, I love you.” His whispered words against the dampness of your skin, his warm breath on the crook of your neck sent delicious tingles down your spine. The way his cock filled your aching core again and again, hitting a spot deep inside you sent you spiralling over the edge again, your moans of ecstasy taking Jun-Ho with you. His seed painted your walls, his thrusts continuing until he was sure you’d taken every last drop of him.

You stayed under the water together until it began to run cold, your bodies pressed together as your lips explored his. You hunkered under a blanket as Jun-Ho made lunch, stopping every now and again to stare lovingly over at you. The rest of the day was spent in front of the TV, the two of you falling in and out of sleep, your head nestled in Jun-Ho’s expansive chest.

You wondered, not for the first time, whether you’d stay in this tiny fishing town when everything was over. When your husband had been caught, when the dirty cops who’d framed Jun-Ho had been brought to justice, would you return to Seoul, or spend the rest of your days by the sea?

This was where you felt most at home, where your heart soared, and your spirit felt free. This tiny apartment overlooking the ocean, your detective by your side. It was all you’d ever needed.

[is-the-sky-blue]

OVERWHELMED: GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Fluff, satosugu x reader, reader is called mom, papa satoru, dad suguru

You were overwhelmed.

The warm steam from the pot below you wafted up to your face, the obnoxious low rumble of the range hood sucking up the air as to not let your smoke alarm go off, yet again. The curry bubbled and you stirred the mixture of carrots and potatoes, leisurely. "Mom," it was a troubled call, you turned, facing the long haired child perched in a chair at the table behind you, her brown eyes glassy as she stared at the textbook in front of her.

You were quick to lower the heat, tapping the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot before settling it down on the handles, placing the glass lid atop the stainless steel before shuffling over to her, fluffy socks adorned with a strawberry pattern, given to you as a little surprise from an ordinary grocery run, protecting your feet from the cool tile. "Tsumiki honey, what's wrong," you coo, taking a seat in the chair next to her, the girl's lips pouted in frustration as she pinched her brows.

"I dunno how to do this," she points, pencil led prodding at the textbook pages scrawled in graphite, loitered with jokes and absurd comments that your dear girl would never do, knowing that this, probably twelfth generation textbook's drawings, were presents from students past. It was a math question, simple algebra that she was only introduced to yesterday in class, and your ever keen student was quick to do her homework on Saturday as to not stress out tomorrow, as her Papa promised to take them all out on a fun day trip.

"Let me take a look," you murmur gently, offering a smile to try and quell her irritation as you stared at the notebook pages, neat handwriting full of numbers interrupted as she tried to answer question 6c, smudges of pencil rubbed away by eraser staining the paper and you reevaluate the problem, carefully repeating it onto the sheet. "This one is quite tough," you nod, hoping to show that her struggle was valid, "but basically you have to-" you start, ready to walk her through the steps to find an answer when yet another call drew your attention away.

"Mom!" this time it was a wail.

"Just a second baby," you pat the girl's hair, "I'll be right back," you promise, getting up from the cushioned seat to step towards the living room, crying children hidden behind the couch, as the open concept layout usually allowed you to see all your kids at once.

You spot the two twins, eyes glassy as Mimiko held a doll tight in her grasp, body shifted away from her sister as Nanako crossed her pudgy arms over her chest, tearful glare directed towards the former.

"What's wrong," you murmur, sore muscles slightly protesting as you pulled into a crouch assessing the situation. Your usually two well behaved girls who generally got along with one another were fighting for the nth time today. They were having a rough time, both irritated, grumpy and getting on each other's nerves consistently on this somber Saturday

"Mimiko won't share," Nanako cries, rubbing harshly at her puffy cheeks as salt rivers stain her face, falling in large droplets. You are quick to tenderly grasp her hands, careful touches wiping away the dew. You turn to face Mimiko, knuckles turning pale with the death drip she had on the pink haired doll.

"You two have loads of dolls though," you try to reason, plucking up a different toy, presenting it to the red faced girl.

"But I want that one," she sobs, hiccupping and you tried not to sigh too loud.

"Mimiko," you call, the child pursing her lips as she turned her body away in defiance.

"I want a turn," she huffs when you don't retract your scolding gaze, "Nanako's been playin all day wif her," she shakes the pink haired toy, glittery strands catching light and you don't know what to do. Nanako was crying because Mimiko had stolen the toy, and you knew the girl had been politely asking all day just to be denied.

It wasn't right that she took it, you know that, but it also wasn't right that Nanako hasn't been sharing. You didn't want to just take the doll away completely, even if a nagging voice said that a mere threat wouldn't hurt, but the high percentage that it'd leave both girls' crying already gave you a headache.

They were just tired. Bad dreams plaguing them last night, preventing them from sleep, they needed a nap but wouldn't settle down for one, not even after being cradled and read to. No matter how many picture books you pulled out, or if you just tucked them into their beds, neither agreed to your plan and now it was too late, settling for a nap now would only result in the inability to rest when it was actually bed time.

You bit your lip, their lack of sleep also resulting in your lack of sleep, achy limbs tired as you shut your heavy fatigue ridden eye lids as bawling tears continued to drip, "Nana-" you were about to start only to be interrupted yet again.

"Mom," it was raspy this time and you heed the call, facing a sleepy Megumi, his face florid as sweat beaded on his forehead, duvet you wrapped him in trailing along the hardwood floors as he pulled it onto his shoulders. His spiky hair was slightly matted, eyes a little red, nose running. 

"Megumi" you coo, your sick boy padding to walk into your arms, falling into your embrace eagerly as he nuzzled into your neck, his cold nose making you slightly cringe as he burned up in your grasp, fever overheating his tiny figure.

"m'sorry," he begins and you don't want to question what happened as you wrapped the blanket tighter around his little form, "I missed the bucket," he confessed, his fingers timidly grabbing at your sleeve, toying with the fabric and you knew what he meant, the little stomach bug beating up his organs had made you gift him a plastic container for all his vomit. "I didn't mean too," his voice wavers, you could feel your shirt begin to grow damp but all you could do was hold him tighter.

"It's okay," you try to keep the irritation ebbing away at you from your tone.

"Mom."

"Mom."

"Mom."

"Mom."

They all needed you, tears falling down fast as different anxieties permeated your house, home full of grief as they each battled with different problems. Tsumiki struggling with her homework, Mimiko and Nanako bickering yet again over something trivial but huge in their little world, while Megumi tried to fight off a sickness but was currently losing, and you trying to grapple every thing, your sanity quickly slipping as their sadness poured into you, the tired little smiles you kept up slowly fading away as you could feel your own anxieties claw up your throat.

All your children were crying, frustrated wails, and you were barely keeping it together, clutching your son tightly as you tried not to fall into a pit of tears yourself.

You were overwhelmed.

Overloaded with tasks and duties, you had to help Tsumiki finish her school work, settle this doll dilemma, clean up the little mess Megumi made and still finish up dinner. Your list was all consuming, trying to drown you as your house shook, trembled.

Your family was having a rough day.

Everyone was troubled and you-

You couldn't do it all.

You barely registered it, chaos consuming your leaden muscles as you did your best to organize your frantic thoughts, but when a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder the tension in your chest, weighing down on you eased. "Let us handle it from here love," a sweet murmur, his dark hair was messy, result of a tough day at work but he was quick to roll up his sleeves, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, soothing your berating mind and you could only nod, brain refusing to process an argument as he turned to the two twins.

"C'mere Megumi," your white haired counterpart now next to you, reaching out for the duvet coddled boy who merely nuzzled further into your grasp at the call and you can't help but keep him close, quicksand sinking limbs finding their way to cuddle him even further.

"It's okay Toru," your voice is laced with a slow molasses, tired dribbles as you mumble, blinking your stinging eyes, retreating tears falling back from your waterline, "can you just," and you bite your tongue, feeling a strange quiver form in your throat as an inexplicable lump formed, but he's cupping your face, squishing the fat of your cheek with his easy going toothy grin, pink lips parting to let an ever loving smile shine affectionately at your drained visage.

"Can do!" and he's popping to his feet, knowing your sentence without your words, upbeat aura exterminating the lingering gloom that held heavy in a foggy cloud from the ceiling. His call of Tsumiki's name is kind before he's taking the seat next to her, getting to work and slowly your growing checklist of tasks melted, shredding into tiny little strips as they rips apart the paper, taking a chunk to handle by themselves.

Your knees audibly crack as you stand, his warm cheek in the cove of your neck as he put up no fight to slump in your hold. "Let's get you a bath, yeah Gumi," you hum, body gently rocking as you pad down the hallway and towards the bathroom, light flickering on with a warm glow to paint the white tiles.

"M'sorry," he's murmuring again as you set him down, guilt ridden eyes swathed with remorse as you slowly began to fill the tub, squirting out some of the soap from a half-empty bottle of bubble bath, watching as white foam slowly floated to the surface, "I-I'll do better," he sniffles.

"You don't need to be sorry baby," you brush the strands of hair sticking to his forehead away, heat emanating from the slick sweat of his skin, dampening your fingertips as you gingerly peel the blanket off his body, pang of pity hitting your heart as he shuddered, "you didn't do it on purpose," you hum, "and all you need to do for me is drink lots of water, get tons of rest and get back to your strong and healthy self, okay my Gumi bear," you smile, watching the boy cringe at your little nickname.

"Don't call me that," he whines, voice nasally as you help him take off his clothes before settling him inside the water filled tub.

"Why not," you tease, turning off the tap but he could only puff out his chest, no reason coming to mind as he submerged his body into the water, steam slowly relieving his congested pathways.

"I- It's embarrassing," he tries and you coo with a sly little smile. 

"Are you embarrassed of me," you purse your lips in faux pain.

"That's not what I said," he rasps out, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumps his back against the porcelain, defeated.

"Mhm I see how it is," you sigh dramatically, snickering at his pout before you lean to boop his nose. "Will you be okay on your own," you ask the boy, observing as he picked up a cloud of soap and squashed it between his palms.

"Mhm," he nodded and you grin, giving him an affectionate rustle of the hair before grabbing the slightly soiled clothing, lingering smell of vomit and sweat clinging to the fabric of his pajamas as you stepped outside the bathroom, leaving the door open just a smidge as you padded towards Megumi's bedroom, the door wide open, readying yourself to untuck his bedsheets only to find his mattress already bare.

"It's in the wash," he murmured against the shell of your ear and you lean into his warmth, resting your head on Suguru's lowered shoulder, "do you need me to take that too," and his hands are quick to take the clothing from your grasp.

You simply shut your eyes for a moment, listening to his breathing, "thank you," you hum out when you blink open, whirling around on your toes to face him.

"It's no problem baby," and he's pressing yet another calming kiss to your forehead, easing the worries that had begun to clamber up your chest, "you should go take a break, I can finish giving Megumi a bath," he murmurs against your skin but you shake your head as he pulls away.

"No, I can do it," you affirmed, the worried look in his gaze doing little to force your hand, "I want to do it," you reiterated and his shoulder's slumped as he acquiesced, letting you have your way yet again.

"If you say so," he's sighing, "but let me know if you need anything, alright, you've already done a lot today, don't push yourself pretty," and he's kissing your cheek this time, flashing you an understanding smile but you are quick to peck at grinning lips, withdrawing much too early for his liking.

"I won't," you reassure, patting his arm, urging him to go and he chuckles, retreating back to the laundry room as you go to grab another set of pajamas for Megumi to wear.

Your heart felt a little lighter, the happy sounds of an understanding Tsumuki echoing down the hallway before she was sharing a high-five with Satoru, a resounding, elating smack reverberating as you take a small peek down the hall, her once pinched brows no longer furrowed with stress as your white haired partner thoroughly explained the topic in a way she could understand, patiently answering all her questions and kindly nudging her along the right path whenever she made a mistake. The sight had you smiling, there were no tears, no yelling, the image much unlike your childhood, her ability to even ask for help showing you that you must be doing something right, after all you didn't want her to face the same struggle you had when it came for asking your parents for any kind of assistance.

Turning back to the bathroom you nudge the door ajar with your hip, spotting your little spiky haired boy with a rubber duck in his hand, pushing it along the water and he's quick to stare at you, meeting your gaze as you plop the fresh clothing onto the counter. "Mom," he calls and the word no longer burdened you with such despair as it had moments ago, of course you loved your title, the very words being attached to you giving you an indescribably joy as your little found family discovered comfort in you as a mother figure, but you couldn't deny that a few moments ago the very call of that label had you broiling with stress.

"Yes love," you hum, quick to pull the stool over, sitting near the edge as Megumi glanced up at you, bubbles staining his fingertips.

"Will Papa still take me on the trip tomorrow," he sniffles, dry eyes blinking up at you with worry.

"Of course he will Gumi," you reach a hand out, petting his hair before cupping his warm face between your palms.

"W-What happens if I don't feel good tomorrow too," he whimpers, eyes going glassy as his lips pull into a pout and you could feel a little tremor shake your heart, small fracture nicking away at it as you pressed a tender kiss to his scalp.

"Then we'll reschedule it baby, okay," you murmur, staring into his heartbroken gaze, "it'll be alright."

"But I don't wanna ruin it," he mumbles so quietly, guilt ebbing away.

"Honey you won't ruin anything," you assure, "no one is leaving you behind, and no one will be sad if we can't go tomorrow, besides it wouldn't be fun if you weren't there." 

"Promise."

"I promise my love," and you interlock your pinky with his, rubbing away a stray tear that managed to fall, "now how about we get you dressed and back to bed," you offer, a gentle smile accompanying your words and he grins, nodding.

You were quick, drying the boy before pulling the dog themed shirt on his head, helping his arms through the fabric before tugging it down. "Cozy," you muse, fingers lightly tying the drawstrings of his fuzzy pants.

"Mhm," he hums, fast to find solace in your embrace as you carefully adjust him to settle on your hip, standing up. You survey the bathroom, empty tub still slightly foamy along the edges, drain covered in bubbles that you didn't focus on, preoccupied with dressing the sickly boy, the blanket he had dragged around, abandoned on the floor, crumpled in a corner, the floor slightly imprinted with wet footsteps.

You purse your lips, rubbing small circles onto his back as his face burrowed into the crook of your neck, dark hair tickling the skin but you pay no mind, occupied with your disinterest on cleaning the space, you had left a slight mess.

Shutting your eyes you sighed, maybe you could just pretend it wasn't there for a moment, you tried to offer yourself, turning to head towards Megumi's bedroom only to spot that his bed was still bare and you were soon painfully aware that both pairs of bedsheets you had used for his bed were now soiled and in the wash, the first set vomited upon in the morning when he had felt the brunt of his ailment clawing at his stomach.

You could feel irritation clamber up your limbs, leaving an unsettling itch in your bones as you push your weight onto your toes before rocking back onto your heels, uncertainty bubbling beneath your skin as your frazzled brain wracked for a solution. "He can sleep in our room for a little while," and the bubbles faded into nothing, heat of the element reduced to zero in an instant as your unsettled waters no longer even simmered.

His hand is on Megumi's forehead, checking the little boy's temperature while the other lay relaxed on your hip, leaving an assuring squeeze, "do you want me to take you Megs," Satoru offers, knowing full well he'd be denied, and rejected he was, the boy merely clinging to you tighter with a pout.

"It's fine Toru," you hum, his hands slightly fixing your hair before pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Alrighty then," he snickers, and you barely have to turn your head to know he and Megumi were sticking their tongues out at each other, "I'll go clean up the washroom then," and he shifts his focus to you.

"No that's alright, you should go rela-"

"I should be saying that to you pretty," he quirks a grin, cutting you off, "now go on," and he's shooing you away, hands on your shoulders before lightly ushering you out, "let me work," he tsks, opening the door, letting you walk into your shared bedroom before quickly scampering off with a cartoony whistled song.

You can't fight off your smile before shuffling towards the messily made bed, the rumple of sheets a painful reminder of your inability to focus this morning, waking up to sobs, the idea of making the bed no longer at the forefront of your brain, and it still wasn't. You collapse onto the mattress, lightly tackling Megumi beneath your body.

"Get off me," he giggles, squirming, fists pushing at your shoulders.

"What, you don't want my love," you gasp dramatically, peppering kisses over his face until he's shoving you away, hoarse voice laughing as he wriggles, crawling towards the head of the bed but you grab his ankle, "don't make me fight you," you tease, pulling him back, his happy little shriek of, 'let me go,' making you grin before you lift him into your arms, wrapping around him tight before squeezing him, planting one last firm peck to his cheek, his happy face lessening all your lingering unease before pulling the both of you beneath the covers.

"You're silly mom," he's snickering.

"Oh really," you laugh, resting his head upon the pillow, laying on your side as he puts his hand onto your face, pudgy fingers squeezing at your cheek, contorting your facial expressions, "I think you're pretty silly," you muse, reaching out to smush his face, his lips puckering as you forced him to look like a fish.

"Nuh uh," he huffs pulling away from your grasp before using both his hands to try and force your face the same way, and he's giggling.

"Nuh uh," you mock, "what do you mean nuh uh," you tease lightly tickling at his sides.

"Nuh uh," he shrieks again, squirming before burrowing into your embrace, putting an end to your attack as he cuddled close and you couldn't help but reciprocate. "Mom," he's calling again.

"Yes," you coo, running your fingers through his hair.

"Can we go see a T-rex." 

"Hmm," you raise a brow, "where'd that come from," you ask, slightly perturbed by his out of the blue question.

"Yuji told me at school that his papa took him to see T-rex bones."

"Oh, is that so," you coo, rhythmically patting his back, "we can go to the museum and see dinosaurs together when you're all better."

"With Tsumiki and Mimiko and Nanako."

"Of course, we'll take Tsumiki, Mimiko, Nanako, Dad and Papa," you grin, "so make sure to get lots of sleep and drink lots of water, okay."

"Okay," he's murmuring and despite his prior burst of energy his eyes were closing.

"Goodnight," your kiss his scalp, gently rocking his body and even though he drifted off you continued to lay there, weary limbs finally relaxing.

"Wake up love," you don't even remember falling asleep.

You blink your eyes open, "You need to eat." 

"Hmm," you groan as you stirred, staring at both their figures and you suddenly realize your arm's no longer hold the weight of a child, "where'd Megumi go."

"Asleep in his own room," Suguru coos, helping you sit up, thumb running over the apple of your cheek.

"What time is it," you ask eyes trying to adjust to the bright light of the digital clock on the bedside table. 

"9:30ish," Satoru grins, taking a seat next to you, "the kids are already in bed."

"Why didn't you wake me up," you yawn, leaning your weight onto Satoru, "I could've helped."

"You've already done so much today," Suguru sighs and you hum into his touch, "wanted to let you rest."

"M'sorry," you murmur, suddenly feeling ashamed.

"Why are you apologizing love, we are the ones who should say sorry," and Suguru is settling down onto your other side.

"We left you home alone to take care of all of them, it must've been tiring," Satoru is holding your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

"You had to go to work, it's fine."

"Regardless," Suguru tacks on, "but you did a good job today," he praises and you find yourself melting, lip wobbling.

"No I didn't," and a surge of sadness washes over you, your emotions taking over, "y-you came home and everyone was crying, I was going to cry too, and, and I didn't know what to do."

"That's okay my love," and Suguru is pulling you into his arms, "you did your best."

"But still."

"Baby it's hard looking after four kids by yourself, you did amazing, it was just a rough day," and Satoru is kissing your forehead, "we should've come home earlier but even without us you did great."

"I should've been able to handle it."

"You did handle it."

"I got overwhelmed."

"And that's okay," Suguru assures once more, "it's a lot of work and it's normal to feel that way, that's why we're here, okay baby, it's not your job to look after all of them on your own, we're a team, you can depend on us," he continues, soothing your anxieties, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

"My pretty girl had a long day," Satoru coos, lightly pinching your cheek, cracking a coy smile, "let's go eat yeah, I'll warm dinner up again," he grins, reaching for you, carefully picking you up. 

"I can walk," you protest, your arms snaking around his neck as he slid his arms beneath your bottom.

"And I can carry you," he sing songs, padding towards the door while Suguru quietly shushes him.

You were overwhelmed but Satoru and Suguru were quick to help you out.