#i gotta sleep but i'll come finish this before the year is over

[cheswirls]

started writing jason/sabo and its allllllllll @kiteou's fault

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Her babes! Was wondering if you could do a imagine for toms dad series maybe he’s up early doing a interview on the computer. Y/n still sleeping and their daughter wakes up coming into the office maybe climbing into his lap all sleepy still and Tom’s like “Sorry hold on give me one moment gotta take care of my girl!”

First Priority

A/n: I pictured this so vividly in my head. Also, I’m so sorry this took me awhile anon!!

Dad!Tom Blyth x reader masterlist

Divider by @s-hyia

Opening his eyes and readjusting to the light that seeped into the bedroom, he gently places a kiss on his 4 year old daughter's forehead who was sleeping in between the two of you. Elsie had woken from a nightmare just after midnight so you and Tom gladly let her sleep with the two of you.

He quietly gets out of bed, stretching his limbs before coming to your side where he placed a kiss on your forehead, muttering a good morning as you gently smile, still half asleep.

Reason for Tom being up so early on a Saturday morning was because he had an interview at home for the upcoming episodes of Billy the kid. He got ready as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb his girls before he walked downstairs to make a cup of coffee before the interview started.

Tom cringed at the loud noise the coffee machine was making as he glances to the stairs leading upstairs. Walking back upstairs with a cup of coffee in one hand to wake him up more, he slowly turns the door handle to your shared bedroom and peeked his head in.

A soft smile making it to his lips at the sight of you and Elsie cuddled up to one another, fast asleep. Tom then walked down further down the hallway to his office where he shut the door. He set up his computer and in a couple of minutes, started his interview that was planned to go for about 30 minutes to an hour.

Just a couple minutes after Tom started his interview, Elsie had stirred in her sleep. The absence of her dad beside her made her more alert as she sits up on the bed, her head turning every which way to see if Tom was in the room.

You were still fast asleep. Elsie let out a little whine, her stomach rumbling in hunger as she rubs her eyes and decides to get out of bed. She looks around the room, checking the closet and the bathroom and there was still no sign of Tom.

Going on her tippy toes, Elsie opens the door and cheers up when she hears her dad's voice coming from the door at the end of the hallway. She ventures out and opens the door to the office.

Elsie stood at the door, slightly confused as to what her dad was doing as he had headsets on and was talking. "Sorry Tom, I'm going to have to stop you there- uh your daughter is at the door-" At her words, Tom whips his head around and sees Elsie there, in her cute little pjs and her brunette hair all over the place.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" He takes his headphones off to hear his daughter, his mic still on. "I'm hungry, mumma is still sleeping," She frowns. Tom looks to his computer, "I'm so sorry Lisa, could you give me a moment, I just gotta take care of my girl!"

"No no of course! go for it Tom!" The lady chuckles as Tom gives her a grateful smile before he gets up, scooping up Elsie in his arms. The second he walks out the door, you walked out the door as you look at the two confused.

"I thought you had an interview to do?" You chuckle as you caress Elsie's cheek who was still in Tom's arms. "Yeah, I'm in the middle of it, Elsie came in saying she was hungry," He chuckles as your eyes widen as you look at him.

"I didn't want to wake you up mumma," Elsie says as you melt at her comment, " It's okay, baby," You cooed as Tom let's her down on the ground. "Go, go back to your interview I'll make breakfast for us all," You shoo him away but not before he quickly steals a kiss from you.

After the interview finished, Tom walked out the door and the scent of pancakes wafted in the air as he felt his stomach automatically rumble. Walking down the stairs, he could hear soft giggles making him smile.

"Smells good," Tom says as you and Elsie look over to him, Elsie quickly getting out of her seat and running to her dad who lifts her up. "How did the interview go, darling?" You smile as you flip a pancake, "Good, it went great," He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.

[alphabetboyluvr]

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent.  in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.  the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.  

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered. 

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs. 

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it. 

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour. 

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him. 

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve. 

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it. 

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet. 

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now. 

It's how it usually goes. 

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much. 

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong. 

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet. 

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage. 

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him. 

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan. 

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details. 

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down. 

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish. 

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all. 

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later. 

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless. 

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this. 

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously. 

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun. 

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight. 

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear. 

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate. 

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties. 

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks. 

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy. 

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation. 

"Do you want me to?" 

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it. 

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him. 

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score. 

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation. 

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer. 

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival. 

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other. 

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

[beeperis]

if only

warnings; discussions of death, grief, angst pairing; old man! logan x reader reuploaded from my ao3!

Your fingers glanced over the pages, turning to the next. Before you was another familiar illustration, this time of the white rabbit. Of course, you knew what was next. You were barely even reading from the pages anymore. It was easier at this point to recite from memory, you thought.

Your voice was that of a classical piano to Logan. In his eyes, you were a magnificent storyteller, even if he'd never say that out loud to protect his masculinity. What little masculinity he had left at least--from lying in his bed, coughing up blood and wheezing--was sacred. You didn't deserve to see him in that state.

You'd been reading him one of your favorite books, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, ever since the doctor told him he didn't have much longer. Looking into your eyes was so hard; he couldn't stand how much hope was in them. It felt like it was killing him faster.

Though a nonreligious man, Logan prayed he wouldn't die before you could finish the story. For your sake.

"...when suddenly, a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her." There came your voice again. So sweet with a melody unaware of what was to come. He held back another rattling cough as to not interrupt your fantasy.

You must have heard his wheezing breaths, because you stopped. It was a rather uncomfortable quiet, so Logan broke it. "Why'd you quit?" He rasped out. Looking over at you instead of at the ceiling, slivers of moonlight from the window reflected off fresh tears from your cheeks. "Oh, no. None of that, angel."

With a voice much shakier than before, you resumed from the paragraph you stopped at. "In another moment, down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out of it." Even on the verge of tears, you were still so pleasant to listen to.

Logan never much cared for reading. In his older age he'd adapted to a quieter, more serene life, but never once had he thought to pick up a book such as the one you were reading now. Come to think of it, he was a toddler when the story was written.

But in that moment, he found himself paying attention to the characters. You reminded him of Alice. Always in your own world, so full of hope in a hopeless situation, so eager to pursue what cannot be pursued. He saw himself as the white rabbit. Mainly because he was running away from time, and managed to catch your eye during the 200-year-long flee.

"I wish we could stay on this page," you murmured sadly. Noticing you'd stopped reading again, Logan perked up. "Why?" You brought your knees to your chest to hug them. "I don't know, it's stupid. Maybe the longer I read to you, the longer you'll be around to hear it," you paused to sniffle, "I can't imagine not having you to read to."

If he wasn't already dying, that would've killed him on the spot. Logan took a deep breath through battered lungs. "You gotta. Books don't just stop because you want them to. They need an ending, and it's there regardless of how long you wait on one page." His words sounded harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn't bear the thought of you lingering on him and never finishing your story.

As soon as he saw your lip quivering, he wondered if he should've kept his mouth shut. Still, he pulled you into one of the tightest hugs his fleeting strength would allow. The wetness of your tears were like thousands of needles in his heart. Logan patted your back softly, listening as you seemed to be crying yourself to sleep. "G'night. You know I'll always love you." Quieter, he whispered, "that's the only part of the ending that won't change."

[blueaetherr]

welcome to eden

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader [she/her]

warnings(s): none

summary: the one where trent recounts his journey to discover eden

author's note: something small to get me back into writing again

now playing: she's mine pt. 1 by j. cole

With the day slowly fading into the night, people retiring inside, both parties equally wanting to rest and repair for the following day—the day had come to an end, simple and peaceful. Quiet too, only minimal and distant noise interrupting the silence of the early night. Despite this, activities both calm and loud continued within one's walls.

As for Trent and Y/N, they had opted for both. Loud activity—that leftover piece of cake on the kitchen counter, the game controller stuck and forgotten in the folds of the couch, the music speaker misplaced in the garden, the UNO cards left on the coffee table. It all remained scattered across their shared home as remnants, now existing as cherished memories to discuss in later years. 

Calm activity, they saved for the end of the day. Something as simple and uncomplicated as laying in bed together, feeling the wind touch up against exposed skin, acknowledging one another's presence through straying touches, tangled limbs and soothing breaths. How they finished their day would be how they would, too, start their day in the coming hours. 

Adjusting her position Y/N exhaled, saying, "Tell me something I'd like to hear." Her voice came out as a whisper, small and slightly muffled against Trent's chest, like she was shy and scared to speak. But in truth, it was simple; she wanted to hear Trent speak. To hear him lift up his voice and pronounce words the way that he did so perfectly every time, something Y/N felt like she would never get over.

Asking to hear Trent's words and voice wasn't anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it was habitual and familiar to their relationship. In times when they wanted to sleep but couldn't, when they wanted to relax and falter a bit after a taxing day, when they wanted to bring about a sense of calm in a moment of chaos—whether in person or over the phone—Y/N would request Trent's words. 

Tell me a story. Tell me about your day today, honey. How did you find the movie? From the hypotheticals to the yes or no wonders of life itself. Anything and everything was on the table and Trent would, of course, always say yes to her requests. 

Normally, if Trent was given free rein about what he could discuss with his partner, he would have to think for a moment, always looking to capture the perfect exchange of words. This time, however, he found no need to wander his mind for thoughts. "You weren't the first person I ever fell for."

"Oh wow, wow, wow." In any other situation where Y/N had the energy, she would've reacted more to his opening statement. Perhaps a questioning look or a warning yet joking pinch to the chest. Instead, she remained inert in Trent's arms and expressed in a neutral tone, "I feel so, so loved right now."

"I didn't mean it like that, obviously," Trent laughed a bit, his laughter bouncing off the walls. Even with the neutral tone, he could hear the dramatic undertone behind it. "You gotta hear everything I have to say and then make up your mind about how you feel."

"And how do you think I'll be feeling post-explanation?" A fooling curiosity settled behind her voice. Will it be worth it to listen to your words? After all, she did request something she would like to hear.

Tilting his head to look towards the window, Trent noticed the shining light rising into the night sky. "Over the moon and beyond."

Humming, Y/N nodded against his chest and relaxed further into his embrace. Big expectations to meet. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear him out. "Let's hear it."

"Well you already know I've had a few girlfriends before you, and it was with my previous girlfriend where I personally felt like I fell in love for the first time. Everything was good, great if you want to go that far. She was the one partner I was always going to my friends and family to talk about. I loved it because she made it so easy; I was happy and she made me happy, and I thought that was more than enough for me to be content with the relationship."

She shifted away from Trent's chest– the distance quite small though not enough to prevent body contact– so she could face him well. "Sounds like you were in Eden," Y/N shaking her head slightly, feigning disappointment. She couldn't allow Trent to get through his story without bringing some cause for laughter to the conversation.

"Just like me get to it. I promise it gets better," Trent huffed out a small laugh, and Y/N soon followed suit. An instant of delight under the night sky. 

Soon laughter fell short into silence and Trent continued, "Anyways, eventually she ended up breaking up with me and I was heartbroken. I was confused and devastated. Everything always felt right to me so I didn't know where it went wrong. I thought she was the one and only, my one and only. I'd fallen, like, pretty hard and I didn't think I would again after that. I found everything in her. She was everything to me. It doesn't get better than that," he exhaled, his eyes drifting randomly around the room, "I mean it shouldn't get better than that."

"But then I met you," Smiling, his gaze returned to his partner, fondness soon collecting in his eyes, "... and I quickly discovered that I was so, so wrong."

"Where she was giving me happiness, you're giving me happiness and more. Where she was giving me joy, you're giving me joy and more. Where she was giving me peace, love, content— you know what? Let me not ramble before I'm just listing everything great about you." Noticing her smile wobble a bit, he took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it. A request to comfort and ease her mind. Against her hand, Trent spoke with a small voice, "I mean you get what I'm sayin' right?"

Tell me more, keep going, let me know your thoughts– among many things she wanted to say. But she found herself in her feelings, far too deep, so much so that she failed to find her voice. So instead she simply nodded through sniffles and a struggling smile, allowing him to continue.

"So sure she was my first real, honest love. I fell for her first and that's fact—that'll never change. But she could never reach your ankles, honey. 'Cause I fell for you and suddenly, I felt it again but with you. Heck, I still feel it with you, over and over, every single day. I remember how it felt when we first met. I felt it yesterday. I felt it when we were washing the dishes together a few hours ago." Humming, he wiped away the stray tear escaping her eyes. "And I hope to feel that way tomorrow and every day after that."

"I am and have everything and some with you. You give me more than I need; you are quite literally abundance."

In truth, Trent didn't always have the words for everything, often spontaneous and unintentional in his speech. Still, his love language always pointed back to words of affirmation. Forever with pleasure, he would continue to offer Y/N his voice and words of her choosing. 'Cause in his eyes, it was easy to speak for someone you felt so passionately about, someone who you could never seem to pull away from even when you should.

Speaking on this aspect of the relationship made Trent reflect a bit, his mind rekindling recent thoughts. It made him lean back and think wow. He once believed that he had found true paradise in someone else. That she was everything ideal and secure, and Trent would never find himself in want of something else. 

But then there came Y/N, the genuine living proof of everything ideal and secure and more. In the words of Y/N, Trent found Eden in her. She was this person of paradise, harmony, perfection and ultimate beauty. In mind, spirit and body. Someone to appreciate, love and acknowledge at every point in space and time. And in his words, she was someone of abundance. Always ever-giving and forever infinite in her person. Never would he ever lack with Y/N. The primal things—loud activity, calm activity—continued to leave Trent without wants beyond his partner.

"So how did that meet your expectations?"

Y/N strung out a sigh, exhaling those overwhelming sentiments. Some would think Trent was speaking just to speak, to pass time or for the two to fall asleep well, and that was true. But what was also true was that Trent found delight and happiness in speaking on this subject, speaking about how, actually, Y/N was his one and only. How she was everything—how she gave him everything and more. Yet all she ever asked for in return were his words and speech. 

So here were his words, a mellow proclamation of love and affection, and like every other time it left Y/N joyfully devastated.

The soft breeze in the room shifted her attention towards the opened window for a moment. Soon, she noticed the moon, now high in the sky daintily shining into the bedroom. She hung her head back as she let a small chuckle through her tears. "I'm over the moon and beyond."

[marveling-cg]

I can't stop thinking about those 10 years or...

Izuku Midoriya recognizes a declaration of romantic intent when it slaps him in the face with a mechanical arm, and he's sick of Kacchan's bullshit:

Fucking Kacchan -- like everything else with Kacchan -- is complicated.

It'd started off simple.

A text late one night to Kacchan: "it's gone ...the ember is gone"

An hour later, and Kacchan had been knocking at Izuku's university dorm door

Izuku had fallen into him, amazed that Kacchan had traveled all the way from his campus to be with him in this moment

A kiss to Izuku's hair made him look up into vermillion eyes

Kacchan had followed it with a kiss to Izuku's forehead, his eyelids, his tear-stained cheeks -- he'd paused and Izuku hadn't dared to move, not even to open his eyes, unwilling to break whatever spell this might be

Kacchan had brushed his thumbs over Izuku's cheeks, cradling Izuku's face, as if Izuku was precious, delicate: "Let me make you feel good." Yes.

"Please."

And then Kacchan had moved with the kind of decisive action that never failed to take Izuku's breath away; only this time he had actually been stealing Izuku's breath, un-selfconsciously pressing the gentlest kiss to Izuku's mouth following it up with a series of licks and bites that had left Izuku unable to think about anything beyond Kacchan

His hands in Izuku's hair, the bite of his teeth against Izuku's neck, the warmth of him under Izuku's hands, the dizzying sight of him sinking to his knees

Izuku had come embarrassingly fast. Kacchan was as good at sucking Izuku off as he was at everything else, all hot mouth and large hands completely focused on holding Izuku captive.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- I mean I didn't want -- I still want, I mean if you want --"

"Zuku," Kacchan's voice had been serious, his stare arresting, "You think I'm done with you? You think I'll ever be fucking done with you?"

And then Kacchan had reached behind himself and pulled his shirt over his head; stood in one fluid motion and tossed a small bottle to the bed from one of his pockets. "Come here."

Izuku had crashed into Kacchan with all the urgency of years' worth of desire

It had taken almost the whole night to exhaust themselves, and even then, Kacchan stayed and held Izuku until he'd finally been able to sleep

In the morning, when Izuku had woken to the sun streaming through his window and an empty bed, he'd almost panicked.

"Shhh, go back to sleep. I've gotta get back to my internship." Kacchan was halfway through the door, but he stopped to look back over his shoulder. "But, I'm here, Deku. Always."

Then he was out the door.

Izuku'd crashed back into bed, only to realize there was a note left on his pillow: "You're still my hero, Deku."

And it might have stayed simple if either he or Kacchan had ever figured out how to have a proper conversation, but it was always heartrending confessions or almost nothing at all with them. It was easier when they were in person. Kacchan communicated through action. For instance:

After Kacchan left that morning, Izuku didn't hear directly from him, but suddenly the mostly dormant Class 1A group chat lit up

Ashido mentioned wanting to meet up to celebrate some of the upcoming birthdays; Momo thought maybe they could make a tradition of it, meet up once a month any month where 1A had a birthday; Tenya had a scheduling survey posted in the chat almost before Momo finished her last message

Then Uraraka and Tsu, both attending the same university as Izuku, had shown up at his door with snacks for an impromptu movie night

No one mentioned a word about One For All or Katsuki, but it all still felt like Kacchan taking care of him

"Did he tell you," Izuku asked once the first movie ended, "that we finally slept together?"

Once the shock of the revelation died down, the questions began: How do you feel about that? Have you talked since? Are you dating now?

That last one was where he got stuck. He wasn't sure. He couldn't explain what they were.

Tsu and Uraraka thought he should talk with Kacchan, but Izuku kept thinking about the night they helped Kacchan escape the League -- the way the plan worked because Izuku didn't press. When Kacchan was ready, he'd made contact. And Izuku had gotten his best friend back.

Izuku decided he would wait, let Kacchan lead

A week and a half later, when 1A met up for Koji, Shoji, Tsu, & Jiro's birthdays, Kacchan made a beeline for Izuku as soon as he arrived

Kacchan was clearly freshly off duty, hair a little damp, clothes clinging slightly from his shower

He pressed his way through the crowd, barely waited for their friends to make space next to Izuku before he was dragging a seat into the space

He settled in close, arm around the back of Izuku's chair, before butting his head lightly into the side of Izuku's. His free hand reached to Izuku's closest and pulled it into his grip and then to his mouth for a quick kiss

Izuku nearly died.

It's not that they hadn't spoken since that night, they had, but not about them, not about what that night meant. Kacchan had sent over footage from some villain who'd been good at evading their agency: "how would you stop him? the short version"; and there'd been random hero trivia, stuff that was hard to find online but Kacchan had gleaned from some old timers who consulted at his internship

Nothing that would have prepared Izuku for this; for fucking casual contact in the presence of their friends

All Might help him

When Kacchan found him after dinner, chatting with Jiro and Kaminari, and asked him, audibly, if he wanted to come back to Kacchan's place, Izuku had practically floated out after him

On the way over, he could sense Kacchan tensing up. They needed to talk - should talk. But, even Izuku could admit that sometimes there's was too much to say and too few words that would make any of it make sense.

He thought sometimes that's why they'd had such a hard time of it in grade school. What do you do with the knowledge that you and this other kid are permanent when you're 10 years old.

So when they got up to Kacchan's dorm, Izuku didn't say anything, simply took Kachaan's hand and pulled him close. The way Kacchan fell into the kiss, fell into Izuku's arms, like it was a relief, was all Izuku really needed to know.

It was a pattern they'd keep up over the next few years.

Kacchan stayed busy: school, internship, training, recovery. But he never missed a birthday gathering. And -- as they'd done since their second year at UA, they always met up on the anniversary of Kacchan's escape from the League of Villains at All Might's statue.

On the first anniversary of Izuku losing his power, Kacchan showed up at Izuku's dorm with a bag full of groceries: "Stop looking at me like that, dweeb, it's our fucking anniversary. Put some pants on so we can go down to the kitchen."

It didn't stop Izuku's tears, but it did muddle them into something closer to sweet than bitter

It was also how he learned that they were in fact (probably) in a relationship

But when graduation rolled around, and other 1A couples were preparing to move in with each other, Kacchan asked Izuku and Kaminari and Kirishima to help him move into a spartan little studio apartment a five minute walk away from his agency

"You've got that offer from UA. It wouldn't make sense for you to commute all the way from out here."

Which was its own manageable sort of wound.

What wasn't manageable was watching Kacchan constantly try to get himself killed:

Some time during college, Kacchan had named Izuku as his emergency contact

It wasn't a romantic thing -- more a Mitsuki Bakugo was a lot to handle when healthy & uninjured, and while she absolutely knew how to tune it down when her son needed her, she would absolutely flame the shit out of Bakugo if she felt he was taking unnecessary risks

So Izuku got a first hand look at Kacchan's fucking death wish

It hadn't been obvious at first; when they were in college he'd just seemed driven, eager to finish his degree on time, eager to leverage it plus his experience to secure a position at one of the best agencies

(Which was ridiculous -- he'd saved the fucking world in his first year of high school; he would have personal recommendations from Endeavor and Aizawa-sensei and All Might -- but Izuku could pretend Kacchan's work ethic made sense, could speculate that maybe Kacchan had some plans for their future that required it)

But Kacchan graduated, and moved into his tiny ass apartment -- alone -- , and never let his foot up off the gas

He put in hours at his main agency, signed up for work with the Security Office, took on every overtime opportunity for community outreach events

He was always working, rarely left himself time to get more than a handful of hours of sleep, let alone time to really recharge

He started making mistakes

Oh, nothing that would get him removed from the agency or any of his other gigs, but the kind of things that left him taking more damage than he needed, the kind of mistakes he'd dedicated himself to beating out of Izuku in training over half a decade ago

With every injury the warnings piled up: take more sustained damage here and risk doing permanent harm to his hand, one more fall like that and he might sustain the kind of concussion it took a year or more to recover from, another shoulder dislocation and he was looking at permanent tendon damage

It would have been one thing if the injuries were unavoidable, but Izuku watched the footage, scoured the web for every angle of Kacchan's fights and rescues. It was exhaustion. Kacchan was reacting slower, taking more risks, because he was fucking exhausted

Izuku had tried to be patient, tried to be calm, but Kacchan was a bull-headed asshole who refused to take more than medically prescribed days off, or give up any of his side jobs, or reasonably explain why he was driving himself into the ground with nothing to show for it

"Is this what it was like watching me with One For All? Because I completely understand why you beat the shit out of me to make me stop!"

"I can't stop right now, Deku."

"So I'm just supposed to sit here and watch you get yourself killed?"

"I don't want you to leave."

"But you won't so much as take a day off to show me that I should stay?"

The silence had been deafening.

You could call it a break up, their friends in 1A did, but Izuku didn't think he and Kacchan were capable of closing the door on each other. Not permanently. Every time they'd walked away from each other in the past, they'd come back stronger, closer. But he'd be damned if Kacchan died because Izuku had been permissive.

So, for almost two years, Izuku's world got quieter:

He gave up almost half of the birthday gatherings ("Sorry I'm on dorm watch duty, Aizawa-sensei will kick my ass if I skip!" "Big field trip in the morning guys, I won't be able to make it this time." "Nobody told me essays would take this long to grade! I'll catch you next time, I promise!" Please, please, please take care of Kacchan for me.)

And teaching really did kick his ass: he needed to get familiar with UA curriculum from the teacher side (because of the League of Villains he'd barely seen the traditional coursework his first two years), he needed to tailor it to his own teaching style, had to figure out his teaching style, and grading, and student discipline, and managing practical exercises while quirkless

In between all of that, there were still calls from Kacchan's agency infirmary or the nearby hospital. Fewer than before. But.

Izuku spoke with Kacchan's doctors over the phone, determined whether the situation was a send-over-a-1A-in-the-morning or call-in-Mitsuki-now and reminded himself why he himself needed to stay put

That didn't stop him from showing up at All Might's statue on the anniversary of All For One's reemergence

They'd sat quietly next to each other for a while before:

"Deku..."

"Are you going to slow down?"

"I can't yet."

"Okay. Be careful, Kacchan."

And Kacchan sent Izuku a small Deku statuette on their anniversary, one of the niche merch items sold by artists local to either he and Kacchan's childhood neighborhood or the area Izuku had patrolled after Shigaraki's awakening. It reminded Izuku of that note Kacchan left for him their first morning together.

Needless to say, when All Might asked to meet him after class he couldn't have begun to expect The Suit.

"Explain. What do you mean Kacchan...and 1A? Explain."

All Might wasn't sure how long Kacchan and Hatsume had been working on the idea, but sometime before college graduation their near complete prototype had been completely destroyed during testing

This is when Kacchan had reached out to All Might and the Security Office: If the SO could hire Hatsume and fund the most basic form of the suit, they'd be able to use it to allow disabled heroes with valuable experience (All Might, Hawks, Mirko, etc) back in the field, even if just in the capacity to train young heroes; Kacchan would continue funding the unique features he wanted for specifically for Izuku's

As Kacchan had already funded the basis of the suit's research and the SO had already been looking to recruit Hatsume, they'd been able to solidify the deal

But, the materials needed to make the suit as safe as necessary were expensive, even with folks like Jeanist (who'd created a new fiber for the undersuit that would afford Izuku more protection should a battery explode, etc) volunteering their time for free

Around that time, class 1A had had the.....opportunity to confront Kacchan without Izuku present

Once they understood what Kacchan was up to, they created a fund to support the completion of the suit

Izuku had struggled then. He knew his eyes were leaking, but he didn't have time for the breakdown this deserved, because he needed to be across town. He needed to see Kacchan's stupid, beautiful, infuriating face.

He barely remembered leaving All Might (he would call him later with a proper thank you); he booked a rideshare, plugged in Kacchan's location (they'd started sharing it in 2nd year at UA -- "I'm not gonna be stressed that you've gotten yourself caught up in some mess without backup. What if the ember burns out mid-reckless decision? Share your location, nerd.") and spent the next 30 minutes trying to understand it all

Why Kacchan had been so hellbent on working all the time, why it had all gotten so much worse after graduation, the desperation he'd had to continue. "I can't yet."

After 20+ years of friendship, it finally struck Izuku that Kacchan was always telling him the important things in fucking decade old callbacks

"You were looking down on me, you thought you were better than me." That fight at Ground Beta revealing some long held misperception.

And now, he was thrown back to a hospital bed the day One For All died: "I thought I'd be on your heels for the rest of our lives."

Izuku had tried so hard then not to read into that. Had tried not to read into a simple statement more than Kacchan could possibly have been trying to say.

But, fuck that.

The car stopped before Izuku could work himself from incensed muttering to a full body scream

He was shocked to find himself in front of Kacchan's apartment, but the little blue bubble on the map indicated that Kacchan (or his phone at least) was in fact in the building in front of him

It was rare for Kacchan to actually be home, he usually just caught naps at his agency unless he was taking a rare 24 hours or more off

Izuku couldn't care about any of it. He quickly coded into the building and made his way up to Kacchan's room. He couldn't sort himself out enough to find the key and so instead spent 20 seconds banging loud enough on Kacchan's door to probably alarm the neighbors.

Kacchan answered the door groggy and gorgeous, but the bags under his eyes were a reminder of why Izuku was here

"Why, Kacchan?"

It took him a moment to respond. "All Might told you?" And then, after Izuku nodded, "What the fuck do you mean 'why'?"

"Why do all of this? Why work so hard just for --"

"Just for the person who gave their fucking everything to save the entire world? To give something back to the person entire governments were content to let take the fall for their failures? I don't know Deku. Maybe I wasn't content to watch the one person who did nothing wrong lose the one thing he wanted most. Maybe I wasn't okay with that karmic injustice. So I did something about it. Because you're worth more than being relegated to the sidelines."

Fuck

Whatever anger or confusion had been holding back the swell of Izuku's tears broke then in the face of Kacchan's sincerity

Izuku barely registered the door closing as Kacchan pulled Izuku out of the hallway and into his arms

Izuku cried. For a long time. For the unfairness he rarely let himself acknowledge. For the way Kacchan, as always, had identified the problem and started working on the solution before Izuku had even finished processing. For the way the burden of fixing everything always seemed to fall on them. For the time they'd lost. For the time they would continue to lose if Izuku couldn't find the courage to speak.

He braced himself against Kacchan's shoulder because facing Kacchan had always given him strength: "I love you, Katsuki Bakugo. A decade ago you told me about a future you'd imagined. A future for the both of us. Together. If this -- if all of this -- wasn't about us and forever, can you tell me now so I can try and find away to kill this hope?"

"Deku, shit --" here Kacchan pulled him closer, a hand to the back of Izuku's neck, the other finding Izuku's hand to lace their fingers together. "Yeah, this is about...us. Forever."

Izuku moved then, bodying Kacchan into the couch, pressing himself into Kacchan's chest

"Good. That's good. I'm moving in. But not here. We're finding a place where our bed isn't the living room and the bathroom isn't next to the pantry."

"Tell me how you really feel, asshole." Said so warmly as to be an endearment.

"And you're taking time off. Real time. And dropping at least one job."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, Kacchan."

"Pushy."

"You spent the better parts of the last decade working to get just this -- so you'll deal with it."

"Yeah I did." Kacchan ran a hand through Izuku's hair. "What else?"

"Whatever else is left to pay for, it's mine. I've been getting paid to live in the teacher's dorm for the last three years. I've got savings --"

"It's done, Deku. It's all -- with everyone chipping in, especially Todoroki with his dad's guilt money -- it's all taken care of."

"Huh. Okay. But repairs are mine. If the Security Office or our agency or whatever can't cover it, it's mine. You've done enough."

"Mm, maybe."

"No, Kacchan. I'm serious. I need you to rest. I need you to take care of yourself. Let me worry about me for a little. What would have been the point if you burn yourself out just as I'm getting started. I want what you said. Us. Together. Flawless victories."

AND THEN THEY HEROED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

[cario55555]

Gonna be taking a bit of a break from art and such and so, specifically cotl stuff mainly because i got abunch of wips in the backlog and others stuff to doodle but also i like this little freakshow im making too so have abunch of fun facts about the funny lamb universe i got goin on for now under the cut

⁍ The Lamb would canonically win in a fight against 4 Leshy's or 2 Heket's, but not 3 Shamura's or 2 Kallamar's. ⁍ The Goat literally just walked into the Cult and acted like he already knew everyone. This somehow worked for 3 years. ⁍ I have no idea if Narilamb is canon in this or not, but if it was then it would not end well for anyone ⁍ Plimbo is the best character, this is a fact and you cannot dispute it. I tried designing him like 8? times and I just couldn't get it in a satisfying way. this is because he is without flaw. ⁍ The Lamb was fully aware of the prophecy before the beheading. They were counting on it. There is blood on their hands. ⁍ Sozo is very dead. Whatever's walking around the Cult, that's not Dr. Sozonius. ⁍ Look at this thing I can do ☺ isn't that wild ⁍ It takes place in a permadeath save. This means that the Lamb's delusions of power definitely weren't helped by the fact that they BARELY even knew Narinder, and the fact they killed 5 gods without sleeping. ⁍ Also Lamb killed Narinder lol ⁍ Mystic Seller is named "That Which Takes" ⁍ Leshycat's canon but I'll never design them its just gonna be like in Tom and Jerry where they're just slightly offscreen at all times ⁍ Midas that rat fuck owes me 20$ ⁍ Surprisingly, Heket got the closest to killing The Lamb. She wears this as a badge of honor, or as a means to make fun of the other Bishops. I forget which. ⁍ I might make a fanfic one of these days based on cult of the sham but it'd literally just be an always sunny episode lol ⁍ Webber is literally the exact same as the one from Don't Starve. They had to put him down because he kept placing spider nests all over the Cult, and Pigs kept trying to throw down. ⁍ A little gnome just ran behind you when you weren't looking. ⁍ The Lamb is ambidextrous, this is because I keep forgetting which hand to have them hold stuff with. They also have no idea what this word means. ⁍ The gnome ran behind you again you gotta pay more attention to this stuff ⁍ ☺sorry i didn't mean to do it that time ⁍ Clauneck and Kudaai like switching clothes and acting like eachother to fuck with people, it works every time without fail. ⁍ Aym and Baal are hanging out with Forneus. The Lamb didn't let them do this, they literally just booked it as soon as they got the chance and Forneus totally could beat the shit out of The Lamb. ⁍ help its red now ⁍ nevermind we're good ⁍ Ratau was driven mad by the crown. He's had the knowledge of the gods ripped from his skull and delicately placed onto some psychopathic woolen beast. He's not all there. ⁍ Any time I'm working on COTL stuff I'm usually listening to King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard. To get the general tone I try and set, listen to their album "I'm In Your Mind Fuzz". Good stuff. ⁍ The Industrial Meat Grinder incident was an inside job.

thank y'all for all the support, means the world that people actually like the delusional ramblings that come out of my brain at...

yeah that tracks.

also one more little mini preview for a drawing that might get finished one of these days idk

why is webber there i genuinely do not remember???

[maddiethedogstories]

The Birthday - 3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

As awareness started to wash over me again, I smiled. I felt good. I was relaxed, comfortable, and more happy then I could remember being in years. The events of earlier in the day felt like a distant nightmare. Being tied down, diapered, and gagged with a pacifier all felt like a dream. I thought to myself, maybe it was. Being forcefully babied by my wife did sound like something my fucked up subconscious would spit up.

So, to test this hypothesis, without opening my eyes, I tried to move my hands. One at a time, I pulled each of my hands to my body, and, to my surprise and delight, I wasn't met with any resistance. I tried the same thing with my feet, pulling my knees up to my chest. Just like with my hands and arms, I could move my feet and legs freely. Maybe this morning was all just a dream?

Feeling a familiar pressure in my bladder, I turned my body and sat up on the edge of my bed, the comforter still sitting on my lap. I looked around the room and nothing has changed from what I remembered prior to this morning. There were no restraints left on the bed. There weren't blindfolds or other BDSM supplies left on my nightstand. The room was clean, other than the bed being dishevelled from my sleeping in it, and was lit by a warm, late afternoon light.

Give the state of the room, I finally concluded that the events from earlier in the day must have been a bad dream. So, with my bladder aching for relief, I stood up and began walking to the bathroom. For some reason, I didn't notice the crinkling noise at every step I took or the pronounced waddle that I had with each step. I didn't even look at my reflection in the mirror as I hurriedly scuttled to my destination. My whole focus was on getting to the bathroom as quickly as possible to relieve myself. My need to pee was growing stronger much faster.

It didn't take long for my eyes to fall on my goal. The porcelain throne of my relief lay just before me. However, as I reached down to pull down my boxers, I was interrupted by a voice.

"Oh, good! You're awake! How did the birthday boy sleep?" I hear my wife's soft voice gently intone behind me.

At the sound of her voice, I turn around suddenly and face her. I can't help but smile. Despite the horrible nightmare I had earlier, she looks incredibly sexy, wearing a beautiful yellow sundress, low-cut on top to expose her ample cleavage, and cut-high on the bottom to show off her legs. I am a lucky man, I think to myself.

"I sweept guud! Danks!" I lisped out in response to Melody's question. I was oblivious to the large rubber nipple occupying my mouth, making it difficult for me to pronounce words properly. Melody giggled in response as she walked closer to me.

For some reason, as she came closer, a sensation of fear sent a shiver down my spine. Has she always seemed so much bigger than me? I thought. Before I could dwell on that thought though, Melody began to speak again.

"I am so glad to hear that baby! I wouldn't want you getting cranky on your big day. But, I have a question, why are you in the bathroom?" She asked, curiously, with a hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes.

"I've gotta pee," I responded, still oblivious to the object occupying my mouth, "I'll finish dat, den come see j'you." Melody's smile became predatory.

"Oh, baby, you didn't need to come hide in here when you potty! You can just go whenever you want to!" She said.

"What?" I lisped out, confused.

"Just make your pee-pees and poo-poos wherever you want, love. You don't need to hide like a naughty toddler. I won't judge you for using your diaper, that is what it's for!" Melody said.

At those words, my head swam. I became slightly dizzy. I grabbed the wall, and, for the first time, looked down at myself.

Like I expected, I was mostly naked expect for my underwear. My hairy, somewhat pasty dad bod on full display. What I didn't expect was the underwear I was wearing. Around my waist where, after discounting the days earlier events as a bad dream, I expected to see boxers, hung a gigantic white and pastel blue diaper adorned with a cartoon teddy bear laying on alphabet blocks. The giant, babyish garment dropped wetly between my legs. The blue line of the wetness indicator declaring for everyone who could see it that I had already thoroughly soaked the garments padding.

My mouth gaped open as I stared at myself in disbelief. As my lips parted, a pacifier that I had also not been aware of up until that point, fell to the bathroom tile accompanied by a line of drool leading directly to my parted lips.

Realization hit me like a freight train. My nightmare wasn't a dream. I was still living it.

"What the fuck, Mommy?" I said to Melody as I looked down at my wet diaper and drool covered pacifier. "Wait, why did I call you Mommy? Mommy. Mommy. Mama!" Despite my best efforts, I had discovered that, despite my best efforts otherwise, I couldn't call Melody anything but Mommy or Momma now.

I looked back up at my wife, who was now grinning from ear to ear. The totality if my situation was starting to dawn on me. If what I thought was a dream had actually happened, then, I had eventually fallen asleep with those damned headphones on. And, if that had happened, I must have given in. I'd been hypnotized.

Melody laughed as she watched the wheels turning in my head. As the depths of how fucked I was hit me, she put words to my thoughts.

"That's right baby, you fell asleep listening to Mommy's special music, and now I'm in control. You're just like the poor girls you torture in your demented little stories. You are completely and utterly at my whim."

My bladder still ached, and I almost released it in fear at my wife's words. A part of me thought that was curiously. If I had been hypnotized, why did I still have any control of my bodily functions. It didn't take long for that question to be answered.

"Don't worry though, baby, I didn't take too much from you, yet," Melody continued. "Really, I'll I've done so far is to make you a little less observant of your situation when you woke up and made sure you address me properly this weekend."

Those changes didn't sound too bad to me. However, Melody's use of the word 'yet,' was not lost on me.

"That is not to say that I can't do more if you don't behave," my wife continued. "It'll be much more fun if you know you are choosing to be my stinky little baby boy for the weekend, rather than being forced to."

"Fuck that, Mommy! I will not just lay down and be your perfect little baby! I will not just be humiliated like that! Plus, I am not just going to lay down and let you tie me up and hypnotize me again," I spat out. To emphasize my point, I reached for the tapes on my diaper, moving to rip them up in a show of defiance. However, before I could get a good grip on the tapes, Melody spoke again.

"Mommy says freeze," Melody said firmly.

I froze. Suddenly, I couldn't move. My terror started to build. This hypnosis clearly ran deeper than I expected. Regardless, I would not just give in to my wife's carefully designed torture. If anyone was supposed to choose to be the defenseless adult baby, it was her, not me. Letting myself give in and capitulate so easily would make me no better than the fictional women I wrote about in my smut. With renewed determination, I rolled my eyes up to look directly at my wife with, what I hoped, was a look of defiance and control in my eyes.

"Let me be clear, mister," Melody said with her hands on her hips, "You will be wearing and using your diapers this weekend one way or another." Melody continues to lecture me like I've seen her lecture our kids 1000 times, "You may think you have some control in this situation. That is an illusion. Like a real baby, you only have as much control as Mommy says. And, like a real baby, you will do what Mommy says."

The lecture has little effect on me. Despite this show of power, I was still certain my mind was strong enough, mature enough, to break my wife's hypnosis. I continued to ineffectually glare at her from my frozen position.

"This is what is going to happen. I am going to release you. You are going to prove to me that you are going prove to me that you can be a good baby for Mommy. If you don't, I am going to show you how much control I really have," Melody informed me.

She walked closer as she gave me further instructions. Despite my resolve to maintain my dignity, I still couldn't help but feel like her tiny frame was somehow looking over my much larger one as she spoke.

"You already told Mommy you have to make pee-pee. When I release you, you are going to prove to me you are a good baby, deserving of maintaining the control you have, by wetting your pants, do you understand?"

I just glared in response. Partially because I couldn't move my mouth or nod my head, but partially, and I would like to think this was the larger part, out of obstinance. Melody, however, choose to take my lack of response as acquiescence.

"Good boy. Mommy says you can move," Melody said.

I stumbled a little as my muscles loosened and I regained the ability to freely move.

"Now, wet yourself," she commanded.

"No!" I asserted, "I am not your fucking baby doll."

I reached for the tape of the soggy diaper wrapped around my waist again, determined to remove it and use the toilet like the adult I am. Once again, before I could make any progress, Melody interrupted me.

"Mommy says freeze," she commanded. I once again found myself reverted to a living, breathing statue. I let out a gutteral growl from my throat, the only noise I could easily make.

Melody leaned over, lovingly placed one hand on my cheek, and made eye contact with me.

"That was very, very naughty baby boy. I hoped that just freezing you was all you were going to need to be a good boy for me, but, apparently, you need Mommy to teach you a lesson," she said with a fringe of disappointment in her voice. "I am going to make sure you don't fight using your cute little diapys any more." Melody reached around me and lightly slapped my diapered ass for emphasis.

If I could have, I would have swallowed in nervousness. I have read, and written, enough ABDL smut to know what she was going to do next. She would say 'Mommy says you aren't potty trained,' or something similar, and I would release my very full bladder into my already wet diaper, causing it to leak over the floor. I'd be embarrassed. However, from my position, at least Melody and I would know that I hadn't given in, she had to force me to set myself.

Unfortunately, my premonition of what was going to happen next was wrong.

Melody stopped making eye contact me and leaned closer into me, placing her lips next to right ear. She then softly whispered her next command.

"Mommy says you are terrified of potties. Mommy says you are certain something horrible will happen the next time you use one."

Suddenly, a new phobia took root in my psyche. When I thought about toilets, my body filled with an irrational feeling of dread. Despite my overwhelming need to pee, I was suddenly certain in the depths of my soul, that if I actually used the porcelain monster behind me, my life would be in danger.

This new fear created a strange cognitive dissonance in my head. I still DID NOT want to use the diaper strapped around my waist like the pathetic man-toddler Melody wanted me to be. However, the idea of using any sort of 'potty' filled me with such a sense of existential dread that I almost found myself wetting my pants out of fear at the thought of it.

Melody's lesson wasn't over though.

"Mommy says that you are no stronger than a real toddler and are easily overpowered by me," Melody added.

Still reeling from the first command, the ramifications of the second hypnosis-enforced edict from my wife didn't immediately concern me.

Melody pulled back from my still frozen form and crossed her arms, taking the stance of a mother, about to punish a naughty child.

"Now, baby, you already told me you need to go potty. Also, you have made it abundantly clear you do not want to use your diapers. So, I am going to give you this opportunity to prove you are a big boy. I am going to help you go potty on the big boy potty, doesn't that sound fun? Mommy says unfreeze."

"No, please, no! Mommy, you can't make me. Please, don't make me go near it!" I pleaded desperately as soon as my control came back to me. Fear had taken over my body at my wife's decree. Tears had started to well in my eyes at the thought of sitting on the toilet.

I stated to work my way out of the bathroom in fear, attempting to push my way past Melody. I thought, maybe, if I made it outside, I could pee in a bush or something, and save myself the embarrassment of using the diaper wrapped around my waist as well as the terror that came from potentially using the dreaded potty. Unfortunately, before I could get far, Melody grabbed me. I tried to push past her, but found, as I should have expected, I couldn't use any more force than a toddler would against their mother. My wife was easily able to gain control of me by grabbing my wrists.

"No, no you don't baby! You have made it very clear you want to be a big boy and use the big boy potty, so that is what you are going to do!" Melody said, now dragging me easily by my wrists towards the porcelain monster, sitting menacingly in the corner of the room.

"Please, Mama, please, don't make me! Please don't make me use a toilet!" I started to beg as I ineffectually tried to pull away.

"This is what you wanted, big boy, so this is what you get!" My wife said as she dragged me through our restroom towards the toilet like a toddler who refused to be potty trained.

With each step closer to the toilet, my fear grew. Tears of terror welled up and began to pour from my eyes. I became unable to communicate I'm full sentences. Mucus started to drip from my nose.

"Mama… Please… No… No potty… No… Please no…" I wailed like a tantruming toddler as Melody continued to drag me across the bathroom floor.

When we got within a step of the toilet, my rational mind has given in. I was willing to do anything to avoid having to risk being eaten by the potty monster in front of me. In fear and desperation, I gave in. I let my bladder loose and flooded my already full diaper.

A loud hissing sound began to accompany my wails of terror. I felt the warm, wet urine fill the already saturated padding as I let lose. I then felt the fresh urine, with no where else to go, begin to leak out the leg gatherers of my babyish pants and form a puddle on the ground. The shame I felt at giving in was still overwhelmed by the terror of potentially being forced to sit on or, heaven forbid, use a toilet.

It didn't take long for Melody to notice the puddle growing on the floor. As she held my wrists, she couldn't help but smile.

"Oh no! I thought you were a big boy who used the potty? Did you just make pee-pees in your diapy?" Melody said with a look of victory in her eyes. She temporarily relented from dragging me across the bathroom floor, letting me sit my diapered ass in the growing puddle of urine underneath me.

I looked up at her, fear of the toilet, shame that I choose to piss myself rather than use a toilet, and hope that Melody wouldn't force me to use the dreaded 'potty' all drifting through me. I told her the truth.

"Yes, I peed myself," I choked out hopefully through sobs.

"What was that baby? I didn't understand you. If you don't want me to make you use the potty like a big boy, I need you to tell me what you did like the pathetic toddler you are," Melody responded.

I gritted my teeth in anger at being reduced to this, but one glance at the toilet standing less than two feet from where I was sitting, my fear took control again.

"Mommy, me make pee-pees in my diapy! Pwease don't make me use da potty!" I lisped out, unable to keep my desperation and terror from leaking into the last sentence.

My wife just giggled in response.

"Are you sure? You were SO adamant you were a big boy just a couple of minutes ago? Don't you just want to at least TRY to go potty on the potty?" She responded.

My terror spiked again. She wouldn't still force me to sit on that monstrosity would she? I could die!

Desperate to appease the monster that was my wife, I quickly responded.

"No, Mama! Me no want potty! Please, no potty! Me…. Baby."

I let the last word come out quietly. I let my head fall in shame. Melody had defeated me. She had forced me to choose to use my diaper. For all intents and purposes at this point, I was a baby.

Melody smiled. She looked down at me and saw, I am certain, just what I had admitted to being: a giant, pathetic, overgrown toddler, who had flooded his pampers in terror to avoid being potty trained. For fuck sake, I was still sitting in a puddle of my own piss only two feet from the toilet.

"Well, I guess I was right, you're just too little to be potty trained," she said triumphantly.

I didn't respond. Couldn't respond. I had lost. I had chosen to utterly debase myself, rather than use a fucking toilet like an adult. I couldn't claim that I was an adult or even a 'big boy' who was 'already potty trained' to her. The shame I felt at acting like a toddler was almost overpowered by the relief I felt in hearing that my wife wasn't going to try to potty train me.

For now, at least, I would have to be her perfect little man-baby.

NEXT CHAPTER

[clearlydiamondz]

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause

Erik!Stevens x Reader

After getting caught kissing Erik while he was in his Santa suit, Erik's and (Y/N)'s son is in complete distraught.

Just to get into the Christmas spirit ya know.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Ma, where is daddy?" her son, EJ replied with his toothbrush in his mouth. (Y/N) and EJ were in his bathroom, getting him ready to go to bed. It was Christmas Eve Eve (December 23rd), and (Y/N) was excited for the Holiday. It was their first Christmas in their newly built home, and she was determined to make it the best Christmas both Erik and EJ had.

The two of them grew up in Foster Care together. Knowing each other since they were 12 years old, they stuck together like glue. Erik was always her protector, damn near almost getting kicked out of their group home when he caused a fight about her.

She was his voice of reason. Her soothing voice and her logical thinking got Erik out of most of the trouble he got into. He always joked that if she was never in his life, he would most likely be in jail.

"Daddy went out to go help out a friend baby," she said moisturizing his hair. "Ooh lord, Ima have to braid this in the morning," she said grabbing his bonnet off the counter and placing it on.

"You don't get to..." he trailed off as she chuckled.

"Don't try and talk me out of it," she said tickling his sides as he giggled. "Alright, go get yourself in bed and I'll be in there in a minute" She started cleaning up around the sink. He nodded jumping off of his step stool and going across the hall to his room.

After she was finished, she walked to his room to see him on his bed, playing with his toy car. "Alright Munchkin.." she grabbed the toy placing it on his nightstand. She turned on his night light before tucking him into the bed.

"Is Christmas tomorrow?" your son asked. He was the most excited for Christmas, obviously. After Halloween, he was already talking about Christmas.

"No baby, it's in two days. So after tomorrow," she told him as he laid down.

"That's so long..." he whined with a pout. Even though he was four years old, it still surprised her how much of Erik's face he took. She didn't see an ounce of herself in him.

"It's literally less than 48 hours."

"I don't know how to tell time yet..." he said making her laugh.

"What I'm saying is that it's not the far baby. You will only have to go to sleep one more time after tonight. Then it's Christmas." she told him. His pouting face widened into a smile as his dimples showed.

"Really? Okay, I gotta go to bed," he said snuggling into his pillow as she chuckled. She stood up from his bed, grabbed his blanket, and pulled it over him. "Goodnight baby, I love you," she said kissing him on the cheek. He grabbed her head giving her a peck on the list before saying,

"I love you too." he yawned closing his eyes. She turned off his lights and shut the door. She walked downstairs grabbing herself a wine glass and a bottle of wine. She walked into the living room sat down and clocked a random true crime documentary on YouTube. She was watching for about an hour when the door opened. She paused it turning around and seeing Erik... in a Santa Costume.

"Hi?" she said in a questioning state with her head tilted.

"Don't ask," he said pointing towards her walking into the living room and sitting next to her. He plot down, and the red suit is opened in the front showing a white tank top with his gold chain.

"I'm tempted though," she said as he sighed.

"Angel called me about a toy drive at the group home on Elm Street." She pouted before saying,

"Why didn't you tell me, I would've gone," she replied as Erik sighed.

"Well it was kind of a last-minute thing, and plus I knew you were getting the house ready for everyone to come over," he said rubbing her thigh. "They were a great group of kids, it was so nice to see them get all happy." he chuckled as she smiled rubbing his cheek.

"I applaud you for doing what you did," she said smiling at him.

"It kinda reminded me of the group home we were at. I freaking hated Christmas." he sighed. She remembered those nights during the Holiday season. Seeing everyone at school with their new clothes and new devices while they had nothing. Not even a family dinner.

"Yeah... it kinda sucked didn't it," she said as he chuckled looking at her. "I'm just glad we turned out alright," he said grabbing her hand and squeezing it. She leaned over placing a kiss on his cheek, then on his lips. He deepened it, trailing his hands behind her neck and pulling her closer. She pulled away smiling at him as he started to kiss her on her neck.

"Is EJ upstairs?" he asked looking behind him at the staircase as she nodded.

"Yeah, he's been sleeping for about an hour." she bit her lip at him as he nodded. He let go of her thigh before leaning back into the sofa. He licked his lips one more time before looking up the stairs one more time.

"Ion knows if I've told you that you look real good today..." She looked down at her nightgown which was Grinch-themed that she found at Walmart. Her hair was already wrapped up in her bonnet and she had star pimple patches on her face.

"Uhh, what?" she chuckled looking down at her outfit once more.

"Come here." he grabbed her hand as she placed the wine glass on the table. She stood up walking in between his legs as he widened them.

"Ya know..." he started off placing his hands underneath her gown, slowly tracing up the inside of her thigh. "Maybe you should sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want.." he smirked at her. Licking her lips, she placed both of her knees on the side of his thighs as his hands found his way up underneath her dress and gripping her ass. She placed her arms on his shoulders before saying,

"I think I may have a few things in mind.." she trailed off playing with his gold chain. He grabbed the back of her bonnet, pulling it and biting her neck.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

EJ tossed and turned in his bed, but the excitement of Christmas was keeping him awake. He heard what he thought was the TV turning off until he heard his dad talking. He decided to stay in bed until Erik would come in and kiss him goodnight.

But he never came.

Impatient, he threw his blankets off of him, opened his door, and tip-toed down the hall. Going down the steps and looking over the banister, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He saw his mom sitting on Santa Claus's lap and kissing.

He gasped, (Y/N) pulling away and looking around to see where the noise came from. Eyes still wide, EJ ran up the stairs tears in his eyes.

"I'm gonna tell my daddy," he told himself.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Erik stop. Stop," she said pulling away from him as he continued the attack on her neck. "I think I just heard EJ.." she said looking behind the couch.

"Come on now, quit acting like you don't want this-" they heard a door slam upstairs as she jumped up. "Oh my god.. EJ, I think I heard him on the stairs," she said standing up and fixing herself.

"I'll go check on him," he said standing up as she stopped him.

"No, you look like Santa Clause. That's just going to ruin it. I'll go check on him." she said turning around before he smacked her ass and grabbed it. He wrapped his other arms around her waist pulling her to his chest and whispered,

"Don't think I'm done with you." she moaned closing her eyes before he let her go. Catching her balance from her knees buckling, she ran up the stairs to see how EJ was doing.

She slowly opened his door to see him facing the wall, lying down with his pillow in his arms. "EJ..." she whispered walking by the bed to see him squeezing his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. "Are you okay beloved?" she whispered bending down. Still no response. Sighing, she grabbed the blankets tucked him in and kissed him on his cheek, and exited the room. She walked down the hall to Erik's and her bedroom, her eyebrows furred in confusion.

"What happened," Erik asked taking off his boots.

"I think EJ saw us downstairs," she whispered to him walking towards the bed.

"I highly doubt it was anything scarring (Y/N). It wasn't like we were actually doing it." he chuckled before standing up and walking into their shared bathroom.

"I mean still... I don't want to expose him to that kind of stuff. He is way too young." she said worriedly.

"We kiss in front of him all the time. I don't think it's bad," he said taking off his white tank top only leaving him in his red Santa suit pants.

"That's different. We were making out, and you were touching me," she said, a slight blush creeping on her face as he smirked at her.

"I can touch you some more if you want," he said grabbing her waist and pulling her closer. She pushed him away,

"I'm serious Erik..." she trailed off as he sighed grabbing her shoulders.

"I don't think it's that serious. If EJ saw something and was bothered by it he'll let us know about it. Like he always does." he comforted her. It was technically true. (Y/N) took pride in her and Erik's parenting, letting him set boundaries for himself and not silencing him when he had questions.

"Yeah... your right." she sighed. "Maybe I'm just overthinking," she told herself before he kissed her on the forehead and then again on her lips. "Now come take a shower with me," he said grabbing her ass as she laughed.

"I already took a shower before you came."

"Well come take one with me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Erik and (Y/N) close friends came to the house to celebrate Christmas Eve with them. They were enjoying some old R & B music, and having a few drinks and food. EJ was outside with his "cousins", Erik was showing the guys his new gaming room while (Y/N) was in the living room with her friends drinking wine.

"This house is absolutely amazing." Her friend Sasha, gawked at her house as she smiled.

"Thank you. I mean Erik did most of the architectural design," she said looking up at the high ceilings. "But there are still some things we want to add. But we are going to wait until EJ is a little older so he's not bothered by it," she said.

"I bet you and Erik have been all over this place," Jela smirked at her drinking from her wine glass.

"I mean... I can't help it," she said with a giggle. "But I think EJ may have caught us last night," she said.

"Awe that poor baby, y'all need to learn to keep y'all hands off each other," Sasha said hitting her thigh.

"We weren't even doing anything. We were just making out, but he's been acting all strange towards me." she pouted. Usually, EJ and (Y/N) would make breakfast with each other. Today, he didn't want to do it with her. EJ wanted to make breakfast with Erik.

Then when it was time to do his hair, EJ kicked and screamed not wanting her to touch him. Erik had to put a sloppy ponytail on top of his head.

"He'll be fine. He'll forget it by the morning when he sees all those gifts." Jela replied. (Y/N) was about to respond but was cut off with Erik and everyone else coming downstairs.

"Okay Stevens.. that's a nice little setup you up there." Jela's fiance, Jordan replied.

"That's not even the finished product." he chuckled. "Where is EJ?" he looked at his wife as she pointed outside.

"They are outside playing." Right on cue, the kids ran into the living room, EJ jumping into his dad's arms as Erik lifted him up.

"Look at the little man right here." Sasha's boyfriend, Leo asked ticking EJ in Erik's arm as EJ giggled and squirmed. Erik put him down as he ran straight to his auntie Jela. Jela gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying,

"Are you excited for Santa to come?" Jela asked. Immediately his face turned into a frown then anger.

"I don't want his fat self to come to my house at all!" he yelled. The outburst caught everyone off guard, but more Erik and (Y/N).

"Beloved, what's wrong?" (Y/N) asked going to rub his back but he smacked her hand away.

"EJ!" she exclaimed. Erik grabbed his hand, pulling him away from Jela.

"EJ, come here." EJ started to cry, and you looked at Erik confusingly. "I don't want to ever catch you putting your hands on your mother you hear me?" Erik chastised him as EJ cried harder.

"I-I saw you!" he screamed at his mom, tears rushing down his face. Being a toddler, of course, he threw tantrums. But this was more than a tantrum. She could really see the hurt in his eyes.

"I saw you kissing Santa Clause last night!" he screamed. Realization started to sink in before Erik covered his mouth trying not to laugh in front of his son. (Y/N)'s reaction was the complete opposite. She was horrified.

"Ayo!" Leo busted out laughing. That really angered EJ because he took a B-line straight to Jordan.

"IT"S NOT FUNNY!" before he could reach to do his attack, (Y/N) stopped him by picking him up. "Let me down! I don't want to talk to you!" he screamed, managing to get out of your grasp and running up the stairs.

"Auntie (Y/N), you know Santa?" Your "niece" Cleo gushed in amusement.

"No sweetie. I don't know that man." she sighed. "I told you he saw us Erik!" she yelled at Erik as he finally let his laugh slip. "It's not funny!" she exclaimed, sounding just like her son. She ran up the stairs after him.

"I knew y'all was freaky but I ain't know y'all was that freaky," Jordan whispered in his ear so that the other kids didn't hear it. Erik laughed before walking up the stairs to see his wife trying to open EJ's door.

"EJ come out here. Let me talk to you," she said twisting the door nob, but it was locked. "Erik can you go downstairs and get the keys," she said still trying to get it open.

"I'm not going nowhere. But he is about to open this door." he walked to the door, her moving out of his way to see what he was going to do.

"EJ, I know you are upset but you know how I feel about locked doors. If I have to use a key to unlock it, it's gonna be me and you." There was a silence before he said,

"I just want to talk to you Daddy," he said at the door. (Y/N) sighed rubbing her forehead.

"Okay.. that's fine," Erik said as (Y/N) looked at him. "Look, I'll talk to him okay. He obviously isn't giving it up." he said. She looked at his door one more time before nodding.

"Okay." he gave her a kiss on the forehead before she left down stairs. "Okay. She's gone." Erik said. He slowly opened the door, Erik looking down and seeing his son's wet and teary face.

"Aww man.." Erik started to feel bad as he picked his son up. "Hey stop crying." he wiped his tears as EJ looked at him.

"Daddy, I went downstairs last night while you were gone, and I saw Ma sitting on Santa's lap and they were kissing.. for like a really long time," he said. Erik sighed sitting on the floor with EJ in his lap. "Why aren't you mad?" he sighed before saying,

"EJ, that wasn't Santa... that was me," he said. EJ's mouth dropped. "No no. I saw him. I saw his hat, and the red coat and everything." he said.

"I know. I was dressed up as Santa," he replied, EJ looking at him confused.

"Wait so Santa isn't real..." he trailed off, tears filling in his eyes.

"No Santa is real... but Santa can't always visit every child. So I help him by visiting them." he lied. "EJ your mom would never do that to me, and I wouldn't do that to her." he comforted him.

"How do you know?"

"Well.. me and your mom when we got married we made promises to each other. And we have trust in each other that we won't break it." Erik explained to him, but the look of confusion was still on his face.

"What's trust?"

"It's like.. it's when you believe in someone, right? So I believe in your mom to not hurt me, and your mom believes in me not to hurt her." he told her. EJ thought of it some more before he slowly nodded.

"Okay... okay it makes sense," he said sniffling.

"You know you are going to have to apologize to your mom right?" Erik said wiping the rest of EJ's tears. "I know you were upset, but you really hurt her feelings. You were being mean to her all this morning."

"I know.." he whispered looking down and playing with his hands. Erik stood up with the boy still in his arms, making his way to their bedroom. He found his wife in the closet looking for something. She looked up seeing him in Erik's arms before Erik stood in front of her. He put EJ down, kneeling next to him.

"EJ got something to say to you," Erik said. She kneeled in front of him before he started speaking.

"Mommy, I'm sorry for hitting and yelling at you," he whispered. "I won't do it again," he said. She pouted looking at him, seeing how guilty he looked. She grabbed him pulling in into a tight hug before kissing him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for apologizing beloved. I just want you to know that I would never do anything like that to your daddy, okay. I love him way too much to do such a thing." she said, moving the strands of hair that were in his face out of his face.

"I know, daddy told me that you guys trust each other," he said smiling as she smiled back.

"Ooh sounds like you learned a new word.." she said, acting surprised.

"I did! I did! A-And I trust you." he said as she smiled at him. Erik stood up grabbed him and placed him on the counter.

"And beloved.. if I ever do something to upset you, me, or your father, don't hesitate to let us know. It's better to talk about it than to just walk around angry, okay?" she told him as he nodded.

"Yeah, big fella.. don't be scared," Erik said tickling him as he laughed, with (Y/N) joining in and tickling him. "Alright, go in the living room with everyone else," Erik said placing him on the ground. He nodded running downstairs.

"We are never doing that again." She said. Erik winced at the statement.

"Well..." he trailed off.

"Erik, what did you do?"

"Well that whole little roleplaying thing last night did a little something.. so I went online and got you something. Well for me." he chuckled. He turned around grabbing an Amazon packet.

"How did you even-"

"Prime Delivery.." he smirked. She opened it to see an elf suit that was extremely explicit.

"C'mon, you know you want to be Santa's slutty helper," he said kissing her neck. She bit her lip but remembered that there was company downstairs

"Fine... but this happens upstairs," she warned him putting it back on the shelf. She turned around to leave,

"No problem!" he yelled after her.

"WITH THE DOOR LOCKED!"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long! I have a hard time writing sometimes, but y'all keep me inspired and I thank you for it. ICYMI, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Special thanks to @ccab for loving this series so much that I can't abandon it. This one's for you, baby.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, AND DRINKING, POSSIBLE ALCOHOLISM, and ANGSTTTTTT

Word count: ~3.5k

There's no way he's leaving you now. Not like this.

******

When your alarm goes off the next morning you roll over and groan, turning it off haphazardly. Elvis has been awake for a while, watching you sleep. He knows today might be rough for you, but he has a question that's burning in his mind and just won't go away. Seeing you last night has him worried about your wellbeing.

"You alright, honey?"

"Mmm. No." You groan and snuggle into his chest. Your hangover has your head pounding and your stomach rolling over. You want nothing more than to sleep in his arms for the next 24 hours, but he seems determined to wake you up.

"You need food. Come on." He tries to get you out of the bed, but you don't move.

"Later. I need sleep."

"Y/n, it's almost noon." You laugh.

"So much for my 10:30 class."

"Come on, honey. We gotta get up."

"Why??" You whine and snuggle under the covers again.

"Because we need to talk." This gets your attention. It doesn't sound like he has a good talk in mind. Has he had enough of you? You should've known this was coming. You've been a mess for almost two years now. It makes sense that he would notice it and want to cut ties as soon as possible. Making a portal will be difficult if he doesn't love you or even like you anymore. You sit up and grimace.

"Talk about what?"

"Let's just go get some food." Somehow, you manage to slink out of bed and get some clothes on. You know you must look terrible, but you don't care. It matches the way you feel, both physically and emotionally. He's not even gone yet and you already miss him.

About twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a booth at a local breakfast place and he waits for you to finish as many fried potatoes as you can stomach before he comes back to his question.

"Y/n, I told you we need to talk about something."

"I know. You're ready to leave and never come back, aren't you?"

"What? No. The exact opposite. I'm worried about you."

"About me? Why?"

"Are you happy?"

"Right now?" You look around the restaurant and consider your current level of happiness.

"No. When I'm not here. Are you... are you okay?" You look down at your hands. So he has picked up on the fact that you're not doing so great. You think for a long time before you answer him. Should you be honest and tell him that you've been miserable every day for almost two years? Or should you act like everything is fine, so he'll go back through the portal to his own life? You look back up into his eyes and know you can't lie.

"No. I'm not." He grabs your hand where it sits on the table and watches as your eyes fill with tears.

"That's what I was afraid of. It's my fault isn't it?" He rubs small circles on the back of your hand.

"No, Elvis it's not you. I just should never have left you alone. I know how much it hurt you. I'll regret it forever." A single tear slides down your cheek.

"Honey, no. You had to go. We didn't know any other way. I understand that. I don't blame you for anything." He stands up and scoots in next to you on your side of the booth as the tears start to stream down your face and your shoulders quake with the intensity of your sadness. You feel his arm wrap around you and he holds you as tightly as he can without hurting you. You cry and cry into his chest and it feels like all the pain from the last two years finally has some release.

He holds you and looks at the ceiling trying not to let his own tears fall. His resolve to never leave you gets stronger and stronger. How could he when he knows how badly you need him?

******

You spend the next week together and slowly you start to feel better. His presence is reassuring and almost healing. Knowing that he's forgiven you does wonders for your depression. Still, every time he ignores a portal, a small part of you worries that he might be missing his last chance. You know he has to go back. He has to become the man the world knows. And as much as you want to keep him here, you know he can't stay forever.

On Friday, one of your friends invites you to a party at his house. Elvis is nervous about you drinking again, but he agrees to come along just to be with you. Before you head over, your friends come over to pre-party like always. The shots of Fireball start to go around again and Elvis throws back two just to try to ease his nerves about how the night will go. He has a bad feeling, for some reason, but the Fireball helps.

By the time you get to the party, you're both pretty relaxed and ready to have a good time. You stay together and mingle with the other party guests. When you decide it's time for a second drink, though he tries to stop you gently.

"Y/n, are you sure? Remember how you felt on Monday?" You stop and look up at him surprised.

"I'm sorry; are you my dad now?" He rolls his eyes as you walk away to get another drink. He follows close behind you.

"No, I'm just sayin' maybe you don't really wanna do this again." He steps in between you and the bar. "You know I love you. I just want what's best for you."

"Ha. Okay. How about this: I'll listen to you when you start listening to me about leaving." The alcohol in your system makes you brazen. You can't ignore it anymore.

"That is not the same at all, honey."

"Except it is. I know what's best for you, you know what's best for me. Now, let me get a drink, please." The thought of sending him through the portal inspires you to drink even more, but you know it has to be done. Maybe if you push him away now, it'll be easier for both of you. He steps out of the way to let you walk up to the bar. To your surprise, he gets himself another two shots of Fireball. This may not end well for either of you. When you get away from the bar, he puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close. You think back to your earlier plan to push him away. Despite the unbelievable comfort you find in his embrace, you know now is the time.

"You know, you don't always have to stay with me. You can walk around and talk to people. I'm fine." He looks down into your face, shocked.

"Doll, I'm perfectly happy to stay right here. Fore-"

"Don't say it." You interrupt him before he can. This whole situation is breaking your heart and you just need him to get it over with and go. Before either of you can say anything else though, your friend, Zach, that lives at the house calls to him.

"John! What's up, man?" He pats him on the back and shakes his hand. Elvis quickly rearranges his face to hide everything he's feeling as a result of your conversation. Sometimes you forget he's such a talented performer, but watching him change like this brings it all back to you.

They chat for a bit about music, since Zach was present for Elvis's karaoke success and he plays the guitar himself. Somehow the conversation ends with Zach fetching two guitars from his bedroom.

"Hey, yo, cut the music!" Zach hollers to no one in particular. The party music stops and the jam session begins. Luckily, Zach is an Elvis fan and there's a good number of songs they can play together. When Elvis starts to sing, you notice something you haven't before: the other girls. He certainly has their attention as they stand in various states of attraction. Some giggle, some blush, and some simply stand with their mouths slightly open. You look back at him and he's eating it up. Maybe it's the alcohol, but maybe it's just who he is. You shouldn't be surprised. You've read about him and his ways with women. It's different to see it in action when he's supposed to be with you, though. A few of them come close to him and sit down around him and he sings directly to them with a flirty smile. When he winks at your friend Stephanie, you turn away and head to the bar. There's only one guy back there, since everyone else is busy watching the music taking place in the living room.

"What're you drinkin'?"

"I don't care. Give me a shot of anything."

"A girl after my own heart." He smiles and you notice he's actually really cute with his round blue eyes and sandy brown hair fixed in a faux hawk. You take the shot that he hands you and smile in return.

"Thanks. I'm y/n." You reach out to shake his hand and he kisses yours gently.

"I'm Jeff. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He's a little dorky, but you're kind of into it.

"You're not an Elvis fan, I take it?" He asks.

"Ha, no that's not exactly... I just... it's hard to explain."

"No worries. We can talk about something else. What's the best concert you've ever been to?"

Your conversation continues while Elvis plays in the living room. He looks up from the throng of girls that has gathered around him to try to find you, but you're nowhere to be found. He turns back to Zach and hands him the guitar.

"Thanks, that was fun. I've gotta find my girl, though." The party music starts back up and the girls close in on him to try to get him to dance, or more, but he gently brushes them off. He's getting more and more nervous about your whereabouts. When he finds you, you're doing another shot with Jeff. After you finish it, you lean your head on his shoulder and laugh. You've had more than enough alcohol and you're clearly not thinking straight. Elvis stands there in shock for a good thirty seconds before he walks up to you.

"Are you having fun?"

"Oh shit, it's my boyfriend." You giggle and pop your head up.

"Something like that." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you over to him. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Maybe I don't want to leave. Maybe I want to stay here with Jeff." You gesture to the guy at the bar. Elvis's eyes burn with something you haven't seen before. It's a kind of possessive anger and jealousy and you should know not to push him. But you're drunk and sad and want to push him away, so you double down. "Maybe you should take one of your fangirls home."

"Oh shit." Jeff says and laughs out loud. Elvis turns to him and grabs the front of his shirt.

"Give me an excuse, fucker." This sobers you significantly and you step in between them facing Elvis.

"Babe, don't. Okay? I'll go with you." You almost called him Elvis in front of all these people, but you caught it at the last second. Still, the pet name seems to pull him back down to earth and soften him. He lets go of Jeff's shirt and puts his arm around your shoulders.

"Let's get the hell outta here." He guides you to the exit, forgetting that you drove and shouldn't drive home. He digs your keys out of your purse and gets you settled in the front seat. Then, he slides into your seat behind the steering wheel. He knows how to drive a car, obviously, but this is not any kind of car he's familiar with. It takes him a good ten minutes, but he eventually figures out the push-button start and how to adjust your mirrors and seat with the electric controls. While he's doing all of that, all you can do is look out the window and cry quietly. You know what needs to happen tonight. And more importantly, you know what you're sending him back to. Or rather, who you're sending him back to. He'll fall in love a few times and none of them will be with you. And then he'll get married. That won't be you either. You can't live like this anymore. You have to let him go. And the very thought of that damn near breaks you.

"Hon? What's wrong?" He's finally figured out how to drive your car and noticed that you're crying.

"You have to leave. Tonight."

"What the hell? Because of the other girls? Look, I'm sorry about that. But I don't want any of them. I don't want anyone but you." He reaches out and touches your face and it just makes you cry harder.

"No, not because of that."

"Then let's just forget about it. I'm not going anywhere." You ride the rest of the way in silence with his hand in yours, tears still sliding down your face.

Finally, you get back to your house and you've managed to stop crying. He comes around to your side to help you out of the car. You're so exhausted from the events of the evening that he half-carries you to your room.

When you make it inside, you stand in your room just looking at each other. He leans down and kisses your mouth gently. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss, putting every emotion you're feeling into the movement of your tongue against his. He snakes his arms around your waist and holds you close, pushing your hips into his. You feel his erection growing and swallow the lump in your throat. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"You're not too drunk for this?"

"I'm really not. I promise." He sees how clear your eyes are and knows you're telling the truth, so he goes back to kissing you. You know you'll need to have sex with him to do what needs to be done. But the fact that this is probably the last time you will hits you squarely in your chest and settles there.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head and you do the same with his. He presses his chest to yours and puts his hands behind your back to undo your bra. For the first time, he manages to get it off all by himself.

"Ah ha! I got it!" He's so excited that he tosses your bra to the side and lifts you so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. You grab onto him and hold him a little too tightly. He lays you down on the bed, climbing in next to you, and puts his hand on the side of your face.

"Doll, what's wrong? Please tell me." You search for something you can tell him that won't give away your plan.

"I'm just sad again. Ignore me."

"You know I can't do that. Do you not want to do this?"

"No! I want to! I need it. Please." He remembers how you were there for him when he needed you and nods.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop." He runs his hand down your neck to your chest, massaging your breast gently. Then, he keeps going down to your hip, pulling you into him. He kisses down your neck and slides his hand under your pants and down to your center. Teasing your entrance with his finger, he gathers some of the wetness gathered there and begins to massage your clit. You moan softly and your hips buck forward into his hand.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"God, yes."

"Good. I just wanna make you feel good tonight." You whimper as he pulls his hand out to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs and off. He makes his way back up to your center, pressing hot kisses to your legs along the way. When he gets back up to the place where your thighs come together, he presses a kiss to you through your panties. He pulls them off too and pushes his mouth onto you, settling his tongue on your clit. He licks up each side and then begins to move over and around it in the way that only he can.

"Yes! Elvis!" You moan loudly and run your fingers through his hair.

"That's my good girl." He says it quickly and goes back to licking you. You feel the pressure of your orgasm gathering in your center as he laps at you, moving down to slide his tongue into your slit periodically. Finally, he slips two fingers into you and pushes them in and out quickly while he tightens his tongue and drags it over your clit repeatedly.

"Oh God! I'm gonna come!" You whisper breathlessly.

"Do it, baby, come for me. I wanna feel you." Just as he ends his sentence, you feel the burst of your orgasm take off and reverberate across your body.

"Ohhhhhh, fuck, yes." You moan through gritted teeth as you pulse around his fingers. He smiles and kisses your clit one last time before taking his pants off.

The thing that's settled in your chest threatens to come screaming out of you and you feel the tears begin to gather again. As he climbs back up your body, you grab him and pull him into a kiss, hoping you can distract him from the fact that you're almost crying again. You press your forehead to his with your eyes closed and whisper.

"Make love to me, Elvis." He pulls back and looks you in the eye. Something is wrong and he knows it.

"Do you know how much I love you, y/n?"

You nod and lose control of the tears as they run down your cheeks. "You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, please. I need to know you love me." He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes into you slowly. When he fills you fully, he pulls back and slides into you again.

"I love you more than I ever thought was possible." He kisses your cheek and thrusts into you again. "I love you so much that I don't even feel like I'm fully myself without you." Your voice catches in your throat.

"Please don't say that."

"Y/n, I love you with everything that I am." He continues to push into you slowly, picking up speed with each thrust. You grab him and hold him tightly while he moves against you. You wrap your legs around him and try to get as close to him as possible. If you could, you'd melt into him completely and stay with him forever. But you can't and you know that. So instead you hold him and cry silently as he drives into you as gently and lovingly as possible.

"I'm gettin' close, doll." You nod and he kisses the tears on your cheeks. He begins to pump in and out faster before he reaches his climax and moans loudly, shuddering into you. He pulls out of you and rolls over, cradling you against his chest.

When you hear the buzzing sound, you squeeze him tight and then stand up. Your hands are shaking and the tears continue to flow.

"Get up, Elvis. You have to get dressed."

"What? No. I told you-"

"Do you want to go through naked?!" You yell at him and he stands up ready to fight you on this.

"I'm not going! I'm staying here with you forever, y/n! I can't leave you. You're the love of my life."

"No. I'm not. You have to go back to her. You have to get married and be a dad. I can't take those things from you." You toss him his pants and he puts them on without thinking.

"Then I'll marry you. I'll have babies with you. That's what I want anyway!"

"You can't. Elvis, God, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. You know I will always love you, right?"

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For this." You shove the rest of his uniform into his hands and push on his chest with both hands as hard as you can. You manage to catch him off guard just enough and he stumbles backwards, falling through the portal.

"Nooo!!" You hear him yell as he disappears.

The portal closes with a pop.

You fall to the floor and sob openly.

******

Back in 1960, Elvis falls backwards onto the floor of the train station and scrambles into the bathroom. He manages to get his uniform back on and then slides down the wall, tears streaming down his face.

What will happen to you without him?

Will he ever see you again?

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

Will there be a next chapter?

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

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley

[deathofacupid]

make it up to you | peter parker

summary: peter forgets a special day, and now he's gotta make it up.

you'd barely gotten any sleep last night, that's how excited you were for this. today was your's and peter's anniversary, and you simply couldn't wait. the moment your alarm went off, you were smiling.

despite the fact you'd gone to bed extra late last night, because you were finishing up peter's gift, you didn't have any problems waking up. you brushed your teeth first, deciding to take a quick shower after.

you didn't normally dress up, but today was an exception. you also weren't a dress type of girl, but today was an exception for that, too. adding some makeup, (including eyeliner because that was a must), you declared yourself ready.

you were bouncing on you toes, on the verge of squealing. peter had promised that there was something waiting for you.

and you loved suprises.

"ms. y/n," friday spoke, "your father is asking if you'd like a ride to school."

"um... sure! tell him i'll be right there, okay? thanks!"

you grabbed your backpack, swinging it over you shoulder before exiting your room and getting in the elevator.

"hey, peanut," he smiled, kissing the top of your head. "whatcha all dressed up for? a boy?" he asked, very well knowing you already had a boyfriend, wiggling his eyebrows.

you rolled your eyes, "no! well, yes. it's me and peter's anniversary."

"two years right? gotta hand it to him."

"what?"

"well, as your father, i must say that dealing with you certainly isn't the easiest."

"hey!" you frowned, swatting him.

"and i'm guessing the gift is for him, too?"

"yes! wanna see?"

"sure," he said, taking the object out of the bag. you blushed deeply, waiting for him to say something.

"it's a scrapbook," you said quietly.

in it were your's and peter's most intimate moment, ones where love was fulling the the frame. some were taken by peter, and some by you. there was an assortment, in no particular order, and stickers and doodles decorated the sides, filling up the spaces.

"wow, peanut," he said, looking up, "this is really sweet, how long did it take?"

"you shrugged, 2-3."

"hours? that's it?"

"...months."

he gaped, "pepper never did anything like this for me!" to friday he said, "hey, fri, tell pep we need to have a talk."

"ew! dad!"

"come on, i got somewhere to be, sweet-pea."

"where?"

"i dunno, just some lame meeting."

"hey... daddy?" you asked, after getting settled in the car.

"uh-huh?"

"you think... you think he'll like it?"

"he'd be stupid not to."

you nodded wordlessly, and the rest of the ride there was in silence, not a uncomfortable one. after a bit, the car stopped and you got out.

"have a good day," tony winked.

"you, too."

"and please, for the love of god, don't get off in the janitor's closet."

you rolled your eyes, "same goes to you and pep."

"i got a whole damn tower, i'll find better places than that."

"okay, gross. bye, now," you waved as he drove off (definitely over the speed limit.)

you felt giddy as you walked over to peter's locker, and he greeted you with a kiss. "hey, angel."

"hi, peter!"

"what's this?"

"your gift!"

"for- for... what?"

your heart indefinitely broke.

"oh. y-you don't-?"

he held the baggie tightly, brows furrowed.

you shook your head, "it's our anniversary."

"oh, right. oh. i k-knew that- i-i have a, um, a gift for, too! i just... i forgot it! yeah. yeah! at home! in- in my bedroom... in the closet... that- that's, yeah. yep."

"you forgot," you deadpanned.

"no! well, yes. i'm so sorry, i was patrolling late, and it slipped my mind-"

"it's okay. i get it," you shrugged, trying to brush it off. "spider-man comes first, right?"

it was silly to admit, but you hoped that he'd noticed that you'd dressed up. was it a silly thing to get excited about? 

"no, i-"

"it's fine. you had to patrol. that's not on you. i guess... i dunno. i thought maybe that you'd... never-mind. i'll see you later. bye, peter."

"aw, y/n, babe-"

but you were already gone.

you felt so immensely guilty, was it really fair to blame it on him? maybe not.

maybe.

it certainly didn't feel right. he was out saving lives, what was this compared to that? you'd probably started this stupid fight (could you even call it that?) over nothing.

but on the other hand, peter had a responsibility to your relationship. it's not that you really even cared about the gift, because you didn't, it's because you cared about his love. just him remembering. he'd made a promise when you found out, that spider-man wouldn't get in the way of things.

this was a big deal to you, and you weren't being petty, just disappointed.

oh, well. too late to do anything about it now.

you sighed again, deciding to deal with it later.

soon enough, the entire day had gone by, and you were waiting outside for happy to pick you up. all day, peter had been avoiding you. you weren't stupid. you could see ned and peter whispering to each other when they thought you weren't looking.

you hadn't meant to avoid peter, either, but it was currently to awkward to clear the air.

what a great anniversary.

"hi, uncle happy," you said, not trying to hide the glum tone in your voice.

"hey- woah, there. you okay?"

"yep."

"tony said it was your anniversary. 2 years, right?"

you let out a frustrated scream, making happy flinch.

"jeezus christ, don't distract the driver!"

"it sucked! today sucked! i was so excited and then it just turned out to be one sucky mess! he said he had a suprise! and he forgot everything! sucky. everything fucking sucks."

"first, you're lucky steve isn't here. and second, do you wanna talk about it? and not just say a word that has the root word of 'suck,' y/n?"

"he forgot," you shrugged.

"peter? peter forgot?"

"yeah."

"look, i'll be honest. that doesn't seem like peter. i don't think he'd ever intentionally do anything to hurt you, y/n. you know that, yeah? that kid is head over heels for you. but, hey, i don't want you beating yourself up over it. go to school tomorrow, talk it out, and go from there. it's easy; you love him, he loves you. if that's enough, it'll carry you through."

you inhaled, "yeah. yeah, okay. you're right. i-i'll talk to him!"

"see, you got the right idea. communication is key."

"thanks, uncle happy, you're the best."

"i know."

so you went home, and stressed about what you were going to say. then forgot about it. stressed some more. stress ate while stressing. forgot again. napped. stressed. drafted hundreds of texts you were to nervous to send. forgot one more time. did homework and forgot. read.

and you were still reading. 

you jumped slightly when you heard tapping on the window, knowing it was probably peter (since he was the only one who ever showed up at your window announced) and went over to unlock it.

"um, hi, peter," you stammered out, but he wasted no time grabbed you and swinging. you screamed. obviously.

is he kidnapping me? he's gonna kill me for this? no, wait, he's too nice. hiring someone to?

and then you weren't in the air anymore, now you were on... a roof? as you looked around, you took in the sight of fairy lights all around, making you do a double take. you blinked and noticed a picnic blanket, with several foods layed out.

suddenly, all the anger you had at him for kidnapping you dissipated.

"is this... is this for me?"

"no, it's for my other girlfriend. i just got the two of you mixed up." you shot him a glare and he quickly apologized. 

"do you, uh, like it? i wanted to give you something special. because you derserve it. a-and i'm a shit boyfriend who can't even treat his girlfriend right. i-i'm so sorry, angel. i didn't mean to forget, this was important to me, too. i just- i- it got in the way, spider-man did. i know i promised you that it wouldn't and i was trying so hard to make sure it wouldn't, and... and i broke my promise. 

"there isn't an excuse for that, i know. i'm taking responsibility for it. but- but i love you. and i want to make it up to you."

there were so many things you wanted to say, so you settled for this; "you love me?"

he blushed, "yeah. a lot. y-you don't have to say it back, and i don't want to pressure you, but i just... i wanted you to know."

you were smiling so damn hard as you kissed him, short and sweet. "i love you, too. a lot. and i'm not mad. i- i thought you'd be mad at me, honestly."

"what? why?" his brows furrowed. 

"because... i was being selfish? it's not fair of me to ask you to put us in front of the world."

"you weren't being selfish, and y/n, you are my world. this is the least i can do, you should be able to have a boyfriend that can do the bare minimum," which caused you to laugh. 

"bare minimum, parker? you are the sole reason that us girls have such high expectations."

peter looked confused, and bless him, but you didn't bother to elaborate. "how about we enjoy that date, huh?"

"okay," he grinned, kissing you again, "and by the way, i did notice you dressed up. you look nice in that. not that you wouldn't look nice in anything else, i'm just saying-"

"gods, i love you."

[multifandommilfs]

Days and Weeks

Pairing: Olivia Benson x reader

Wc: 1040

Y/n is a teacher/prof, Janice is your colleague. S13 E5 spoilers. Fluff

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"So both of them confessed to the murder! Almost simultaneously even. I mean what were they thinking? Because if we hadn't dug up their baby's body, we could've charged them BOTH with murder by all means." She paced around your frame as you did your skincare by the sink. Her hands were gesticulating all over the place as she ranted about a recently closed case.

 

"But there's no evidence of trauma in the M.E.'s, wouldn't the case be baseless then?" You indulged yourself in one of her rare rambles, careful not to get all the soap past your lips as you washed the product off. It was understandable that with so much secret-keeping from the media, she had to get it out of the system one way or another. You'd rather hear it out than let anyone else take up that part.

 

With a direct view of her reflection behind you in the mirror, you saw as a frown creased its way between her brows. "It's not just baseless, it's a complete lost cause! Any first-year lawyer could've gotten them off without so much as an objection! And can you imagine what she wanted to charge them with?!" She appeared with hands akimbo beside you when she heard your brushing, knowing you couldn't speak.

 

Mint filling up the crevices of your mouth now, you cocked your chin up in reply to her rhetoric. "Manslaughter in the goddamn second degree." She deadpanned and a surprised noise came up from the back of your throat as you whipped to her, expressing, 'Are you serious?'

 

She widened her eyes for a split second which conveyed, 'Yeah, that was what I thought too.'

 

"Verdict?" You asked after finishing up, moving from the bathroom to bedroom. Olivia followed behind.

 

"A.D.A. wishes she got one, turns out the baby died of SIDS—sudden infant death syndrome. M.E. said it's not uncommon."

 

"What? And you just released them?" You made a split-second decision to not strip due to the chilly autumn night, getting under the covers as Olivia flicked off the lights.

 

"We had to, there weren't any charges to go on. Even though I wish there was a 'sending officers on a wild goose chase' charge."

 

You sputtered with laughter. "Yeah? I bet that'll be just as memorable. But you gotta give it to 'em, you don't see that kind of dedication nowadays." You adjusted yourself to maximum comfort, sleep already invading your senses after the long day.

 

She hummed, slipping under the covers. "Grief comes in many forms, but getting yourself into custody? And on Halloween? That's something I haven't seen before." She grumbled, draping half of her body atop of yours as you shuffled closer to her, a telltale sign that you wanted to hit the sack in about five minutes.

 

"We haven't talked about your week sweetheart." She lowered her voice so that it was just above a whisper, her breath fanning at your jaw, her hand enclosed around the far side of your waist.

 

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, Liv." Your words came out in a quiet murmur.

 

However when Thursday morning rolled around, it wasn't your alarm that awakened the both of you but the blaring rays of ultraviolet.

 

The peace scattered as you clambered out of bed. "I'll shower at work!" You said as you threw on an outfit, letting Olivia hog the shower. Her on-the-run job knew no bounds when it came to physical exertion while your job required minimal to none.

 

It seemed as if she took a one-second shower because she was hollering for you (or her clothes) the second you tossed two pieces of white bread into the toaster. And so you were rushing back into the bedroom, your ears victim to her colourful choice of words. “Something black!”

 

"Liv, that’s like your entire wardrobe.” You drawled loud enough for her to hear.

 

“Crew neck!”

"Long-sleeved or short?”

 

“It’s autumn Y/n!” Her words made you laugh as you unhung her shirt and picked out the rest.

 

You shoved her outfit into her arms by the entrance of the bathroom. “If it’s any redeeming I didn’t have a problem with the lingerie.” She spluttered, laughter pealing throughout the room. “I’ll redeem you when you tell me about your day!”

The toasts leapt with a satisfying ‘ching’ as Olivia hurried into the kitchen wafting with freshness. “The school surprised the students with a pop quiz the other day." You rushed out as you buttered the crispy golden-brown surface. “And?” She took the coffee from the machine and dunked it into a glass before heaving back a mouthful, stretching it out to you next with a straw in place which you took.

 

“Mh, so the thing is, I never knew things actually pop during pop quizzes. You shoved a piece of toast into her mouth and wolfed down what you could while dishes clanked into the sink.

 

“Janice popped half an hour into the test.”

 

“What?! Janice? I thought she was 6 months along!” Olivia spun to your busy frame, a hand over her mouth as she half choked in laughter.

 

 

“Time flies babe, she popped during the pop quiz.” Your look of cheekiness did nothing to quell her chortle even as she ran around the apartment gathering case files, her coat and yours while you scrubbed the dishes as fast as possible.

 

“So that was what you were holding back from me?”

 

“Hold back? Please, I could never." You slipped on your heels as she did hers, the both of you finally meeting at the front door. She did the watch strap on your wrist with practiced ease as you brushed her stray hair from all the morning chaos into place before snatching her in for a soft kiss.

 

“You better pray Cragen’s in a good mood, you’re thirty minutes late.”

 

“Says you, you’d be an hour late with all the traffic.”

You raised your hands in surrender as you filtered out the front door and soon, the apartment building. You were parted halfway to your respective cars before you heard her yell, “I’ll see you tonight!"

 

You blew her an air kiss in response, already knowing your Thursday night would be the highlight of the week.

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabbles: Resident Evil 4- Body Talk

How might they react when they find out you don't like something about yourself?

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon is the sunshine, optimist, glass half full in your relationship. He's even like that when you tell him you're pregnant; even if he's gotta be the government work dog, he won't let that stop him from having a family. Your pregnancy goes bad; your baby comes out with all ten fingers and ten toes. The problem is it doesn't go to plan. You had been hoping for an at-home birth, but plans changed. Instead, your baby girl had decided that she didn't want to come out before her due date or even on her due date. She had opted to put you in a whole day's worth of labor, and that's when the doctors had called it. "We need to do a c-section." The plea of shock and unpreparedness was written all over your face, and your husband could see it.

"If that's what's best." He had said, and squeezed your hand. "it will be okay, baby." He had noted into your sweaty forehead. You don't remember much from your emergency c-section. You remember hearing your daughter scream and how beautiful she was when you saw her for the first time. Weeks later, you still think the same thing. It not until you're showering a month later does the reality of how fucked your body looks now hit you like a semi-truck into a brick wall.

You stand there in your panties and supportive bra. You aren't staring at yourself in the mirror. You're just staring at your no longer large belly. The c-section wound is still exposed to the air around, and you hold your hand over your belly. It aches and hurts. Leon comes in with your daughter in his arms. Lola, your whole world alerts you to their presence, and you try to grab your robe quickly. "What's wrong, baby?" Your husband acts like you; he reads people for a living, really, so you aren't surprised that you aren't able to just walk away from it. "Just lookin' at myself is all." You say as you tie the knot of your robe covering your body from him.

"You don't have to hide from me, ya know." Leon's words are soft and calming, but still, you can't imagine him looking at you the same ever again. That's because you don't see yourself the same way anymore. "Where do you keep going? Talk to me, love." Leon says as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. Lola babbling in her sleep. You swallow hard as the tears you've been trying to keep at bay strike their revenge on you. "My body isn't normal anymore, my tummy won't ever be falt again, and I'll always have this damn scar, Leon." You ramble on, "I hate this feeling. You're doing all the work. I want to help, but I can't." Leon just listens and waits for you to finish. When you huff with frustration he knows you're done. "Baby, will you take a breath for a second." He says, and you do take a breath a deep inhale and exhale.

"Now, will you listen to me when I say what I'm about to say?" You nod, "You are beautiful to me, and I know that's not how you view yourself. I also know that you grew our baby girl here. You literally made a life." You interrupt him, "Hey, you helped too." You say giving your husband credit. Leon rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I did, but I don't want you to worry about trying to help right now. You need to heal, and like I said, you did all the work to get her here in the world. So please worry about healing and taking the time you need. I'm tellin' you right now, though, and I'll still keep lovin' your body no matter what." Leon admits to you. You bite your lower lip to hold the tears back. He gets up from the edge of the bed and walks over to you, kissing your lips. "Day by day, honey." You nod and kiss him back.

Albert Wesker

Albert had a strict dress code for working with him. White button-ups, paired with a black pencil skirt, expect you didn't fit the dress code. The dress code had been there for years before you arrived; you almost laughed in Alberts's face when he hired you as his secretary. Of course, it had grown into something else when he had asked you on a date and then another. Before you knew it, he asked you to move in with him. Still, you worked as his secretary. He liked how you filled out a pair of jeans, so he didn't mind spending your lunch break with him at a fancy restaurant or delivering meals.

The dress code only bothers you once you hear the other women working in the office commenting and talking about you. Their words are hurtful and strike something in your core. "She's such a charity case. That's the only reason he's with her. He feels bad for her." "I know, right? He could do so much better. Hell, she doesn't even follow the damn dress code." "It's because of her weight. You can see how fat she is in her face." You bee-line back to your desk outside of Albert's office. You shake your head as you sit in your chair. They might be right, though all your jeans are worn out between the thighs. Maybe you are just a charity case to Albert.

"Come on, darling, it's time to go home," Albert says as he exits his office. "Okay." You murmur quietly. You're quick to grab your things, and Albert waits for you patiently at the elevator doors. Waiting only causes more panic to settle in your body. "I think we should take the stairs." You say quickly. "why?" Albert asks, almost offended you'd suggest the stairs compared to the elevator. "I just thought it would be good for both of us since we've been cooped up in the office." You say but are distracted by the ding of the elevator doors opening. "Maybe next time, darling." When you arrive home, Albert tells you that he's making dinner. But you aren't listening, opting for listening to the words playing ring around the rosey in your head.

"Darling, dinners done," Albert yells across the large apartment. He has to come find you. You're sitting in your closet. Jeans and clothes surrounding you. "Did you not hear me?" "Huh." "Come to eat dinner with me." He says once more before reaching his hand for you to grab. You don't take it and push yourself up from the ground. Your whole demeanor sets all the alarms off for Albert, but he's trying not to guess the worst thing first. He follows you tot he dinning room, and when you play with your food instead of eating it sets off my alarms.

"Are you feeling alright, darling?" He asks, worried. "I'm alright, just not hungry tonight, is all." You tell him, "Okay." Albert says, even if he doesn't believe you. The next day, when he calls you into his office and offers you lunch, you deny him again, and before he can't a word in edgewise, you're back out at your desk. This morning had also been different. You had worn something less you to work. You had stiffed through all your clothes in search of a pencil skirt and a nice blouse. It's when he ventures out and hears his employyees talking amoungest themselves and hears your name that it clicks.

"Did you see she tried today, at least?" "yeah, but it's not like she looks good." "Mr. Wesker probably wasn't gonna take it much longer, and she is trying to get back in his good graces." "Well, let's be honest, nothing will fit her lookin' as fat as she does." Albert is seething, itching to catch them in the middle of gossiping, but he's far more concerned about where you are. That's when you come popping out of the stairwell. "My office now!" he demands the second he sees you. You scramble to get together and to his office before his door slams. "what's wrong, Albert?" Worry is etched in your voice. "what's wrong? What's wrong? You haven't been eating for the past two days, and what are you wearing?" About way too many questions are hurdled in your direction. "What do you mean? I told you I haven't been hungry, and I'm wearing what's in the dress code for the company." I say.

"That's such bullshit. What happened to your comfy jeans and t-shirts?" You shrugged, not really knowing what to say to him. "I guess I… wanted to change it up." You offer, but Albert shakes his head. "No, I know you; I know that wearing those fucking pencil skirts gives you horrible chub rub between your thighs and that you feel ten times better in your own jeans. So you are going to tell me the truth about why you're suddenly not eating and changing everything about yourself." Albert demands you. You fumble with your hands, "I overheard some girls talking about you and me and how you might think I'm a charity case, along with my weight being an issue. I thought maybe I could get better. Change a few things so you wouldn't wanna leave me."

Your words are raw, and so is the look of utter anger steaming under the sadness of you thinking you are enough for him. "Listen to me and listen real good. I like… no, I love the way your body is, and I like the fact that you don't wear all the preppy shit the others wear. I want your ass in a good pair of jeans and an old college t-shirt. I love you when you're comfortable, and about the leaving part, that's never happening. Because unlike those dimwits out there with their personality shoved up their asses. You've got everything I need."

You smile wide as you walk across his office and hug him. He hugs you back, "I know you wanna go fire thoses people, but you can't." You say into his ear, "No, but I can fuck right here and let you be as loud as you want so everyone you belong to me." Albert offers, you blush hard, "You can fire one of them!" "Nah, they're not worth it anyways."

Completed on: 11/16/23

Posted on: 02/04/24

[minisugakoobies]

Sunny! I’d like to request #5 on the dirty texts with anyone - smutty dealers choice!

Ooooh, dealers choice?? Hmmm… I gotta go Yoongi on this one, I have not (and will never) recovered from the D Day tour. 😵‍💫

This was supposed to be a drabble but it's well over 1k so… sorry about that!! 💕

Title: Out of the Bag Now Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: friends to lovers?, a bit cracky, smut, Coworkers!AU Rating: M(18+) Warnings: accidentally dirty texts, misunderstandings, mutual pining, masturbation (m), almost turns into phone sex, reader is flustered af (in the best way!), ends on a cute note, prompt is highlighted in bold

You: Okay, so we have everything ready for the presentation tomorrow?

Yoongi: Yeah, we're good to go

Yoongi: Nothing to worry about, so try to get a good night's sleep

Yoongi: I know you didn't sleep before March's shareholder meeting

Glancing at the last text message, you sigh wistfully.

For over a year now, you've been madly in love with your coworker, Min Yoongi. Ok, love might be stretching it a bit. You're wildly in lust with the man.

He's everything you've ever wanted in a partner - cool, calm, collected, clever as fuck with an acerbic wit that always makes you laugh (while praying that you'll never been on the receiving end of its sharp sting). Plus, he's absolutely gorgeous, the kind of guy that people would use an example of "have you ever seen a man so beautiful you cried?"

Or maybe that's just you.

But he is strikingly handsome, and makes your knees go weak when he favors you with one of his rare smiles. They usually come out when he's being sweet to you. Like when he's making sure you're getting enough sleep.

So yeah, you're head over heels for him. If only you had the guts to do anything about it.

You: I'll try

You: But you too! No late night movie marathons again, Yoongi

You: Boss's orders

That's just a dumb joke between the two of you. You're colleagues, on the same level, but Yoongi had insisted that you take the lead on this project, since you had more familiarity with the product than he did. Another check in the "pros" column - he's a man who supports his other colleagues and isn't afraid to take orders.

Yoongi: Yes boss

Yoongi: You can't see it but I'm saluting you right now

He sends a few emojis through and you giggle. For the last few weeks, the two of you have been texting back and forth after hours. It's mostly shop talk, but lately the conversations have dragged on and on, drifting into the late night hours. As this one has. You've already finished your nightly skincare and have moved on to your dental routine.

Yoongi: Seriously though, try not to stress about tomorrow

You: Honestly, I'm not! I'm feeling pretty confident about this

Yoongi: Good. Then you can just relax tonight

You: That's the plan

You balance your phone in one hand while using your electric toothbrush with the other. Yoongi cracks a joke, and your response is a little mangled by your sole thumb's lack of dexterity.

You: Sorry abour any typos

You: I'm like typing with one hand

Three grey dots dance across your screen for a few seconds.

Yoongi: Oh shit, you're REALLY relaxing. I didn't realize it was that type of conversation

You spit into the sink, brow furrowing as you reread his message. What does he mean by that?

Then you scroll up and nearly scream. "I'm like typing with one hand"?? Oh my god, why the fuck did you say that to him? He doesn't know that you meant you were brushing your teeth!

Frantically, you start typing out a response, erasing and starting over a few times, trying to figure out the best way to say "hey no I'm a dumbass who was just brushing my teeth and not touching myself to you" even though the fact is that you have touched yourself while thinking about him, several times actually, but that's neither here or there -

and then a new message appears.

Yoongi: Hold on, let me catch up

Excuse me??

Your phone buzzes with an incoming call and you nearly throw it into the sink in shock when you see that it's Yoongi calling. It takes a few seconds for the command to answer the call to get from your brain to your finger.

"Yoongi?"

A happy sigh greets you. "Fuck, that's better. Wanted to hear your voice."

The floor seems like the safest place to be right now, so you collapse onto it, leaning back against the cabinets under the sink.

"You did?"

"Oh yeah. You've got such a pretty voice, YN. Bet it sounds even sweeter when you're coming," Yoongi rumbles, that's the only word for it, he rumbles in that deep-ass voice of his, and you slide until you're just lying on your back, staring up at the bathroom ceiling, waiting for death to claim you, because how the fuck are you supposed to go on living after this?

"I - um - thank you?"

Yoongi laughs, but there's a slight hiccup in it, and it dawns on you what he's doing right now while he's talking to you. He's catching up. Images flood your brain - Yoongi lying on a couch, or maybe on a bed, hand tucked into his pants, fingers wrapped around a hard cock - and you choke on your own saliva.

"You ok?"

"Yeah! Yes. I'm fine, thank you."

He chuckles again, and it's physically impossible but you swear you can feel the vibrations through the phone. "You sure? You sound a little flustered."

"Oh, I'm sorry." What the fuck are you supposed to be saying to him right now? You're pretty sure it's not apologizing, but that's what you do anyway.

"Don't be. It's really cute."

Well thank fuck for that.

"Yoongi," you steady yourself with a deep breath, "what I said earlier… I didn't mean I was touching myself."

Silence. A lot of silence. It's a relief when he speaks again, but it fades quickly as you catch the disappointment in his voice.

"Oh shit, really? I - fuck." Now who's flustered? "What - what were you doing?"

"Brushing my teeth."

"Oh. Huh." He sighs, sounding deflated. "Guess I just jumped to a conclusion that I… wanted."

"Oh," you echo. "That's…" Incredible? Unbelievable? The best thing you've heard since you were born?

"Listen, YN, I'm so sorry. This whole thing was just - fuck, just really inappropriate, and if I've made you feel uncomfortable, I'm truly sor-"

Sitting up, you wave your arm to stop him. As if he can see you right now. "No, no! Yoongi. Wait. It's not like that. I wasn't doing anything right now but… but I have."

More silence. You bite your lip as you wait for him to catch up, for real this time.

"You mean…"

"I mean, I've t-touched myself while thinking about you. Before." Clearing your throat, you cover your eyes with your free hand, hiding your face from an invisible audience. Somehow, it emboldens you to keep talking. "A lot, actually."

He exhales shakily. "Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah, really." Uncovering your face, you stand, propping yourself up against the counter as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Is that really you having this discussion right now? You start to laugh.

"I don't think I'm getting the joke," Yoongi says slowly.

"Holy shit, this is just so surreal, Yoongi," you inform him. "I never in a million years thought I'd be admitting that I - Jesus, that I masturbate to thoughts of you! Not over the phone like this. Maybe after like-"

"A date?"

You huff out another laugh. "After a dozen, maybe. This is… I'm extremely out of my depth here."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you're doing a great job." He's laughing now, too, and it makes you grin so wide your cheeks actually hurt. "How about this - you let me take you on a date tomorrow night, to celebrate our successful presentation, and maybe by the end of the night, we'll know where we stand on the timeline for surprising confessions?"

"Okay. Yeah. Yes." You close your mouth to prevent yourself from continuously accepting his offer.

"Great. Then… I'll see you tomorrow." His voice drops to a soft whisper. "Sweet dreams, YN."

"Good night, Yoongi."

Okay, so you may have lied to him. Because there's no way you're getting any sleep tonight.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[plut0slover]

This is the first story I've written. I originally wanted to put it on wattpad, but only ever posted the first chapter. Hopefully, I will post it on here, willing so much to make me want to post the other parts.

Be My Eyes For Me

Original story by: Plut0slover

(Y/N)'s POV

"Whatever you do (Y/N), don't let the curse come near you! That liquid he shoots out burns. Careful got it?" Nanami looked over at me, squeezing my shoulder. "We both gotta make it home alive. Ok?"

I looked at him and placed my hand on his. "Don't worry about it love. I don't plan on dying today. Neither are you. Now, we should get back to the battle before the curse gets any of us." At that moment I turned to see the curse, who was trying to get out my strings." I say we execute it, shall we?" I look back at Nanami as I pull the curse towards us, pulling him with my string. Just as Nanami was gonna execute the curse, he spit something out.

SPLASH

I suddenly fell back. Nanami quickly executes the curse, he then gets down to my level. "Love! You ok!? Didn't I just say to be careful!?"All I could do was cover my face from the burn. The burning sensation I was feeling was like if they put my face on fire. I couldn't see. I couldn't think at that moment. It burned way too much to do anything. I could hear Nanami's concerned voice in the distance. I tried to say something but I couldn't. The pain was too much. I couldn't see anything. Suddenly it went quiet.

Nanami's POV

When I saw (Y/N) cover her face, I knew it was bad. I tried calling out for her, and I quickly scooped her up. Suddenly, (Y/N) passed out in my arms. I quickly dialed Shoko up, letting her know what had happened and that I was on my way. I quickly got into our car, placing her in the passenger seat. I went to the other side, the divers' side. I turned the car on and started driving as fast as I could. I tried my best to be as safe as possible. All i cared about at that moment was Y/N. We have been married for 3 years now. Unfortunately, they made both of us work on our anniversary. At least we got put together for the mission. We were supposed to go to dinner after the mission. Though it seemed the universe had other plans. I arrived at the infirmary. I quickly parked the car, and at that moment, I saw Shoko run out, rolling a bed out. With the help of others, Shoko and her team put Y/N on the bed and headed back into the building. I got out the driver's side and quickly ran behind her. Shoko's team brought (Y/N) into a room, but before I could go in, Shoko stopped me.

"Kento, you can't come in right now. We have to help (Y/N) first. Figure out what's wrong and what we can do. Take a seat over here." I followed Shoko to a small waiting room. "Don't worry Kento. I'll let you know when you can check on (Y/N). Hopefully it's not too ba-'' Suddenly one of Shoko's staff members called out for her before she could finish her statement. Shoko quickly ran back to Y/N room. Panic filled my head. At that moment I couldn't think straight. All i could think about was about my wife, (Y/N)... (Y/L/N) Nanami.

Hours passed by and no one had come to get me. I was falling asleep in the chair. My eyes felt heavy. I started shutting them, suddenly someone tapped on my shoulders. My eyes shot open. I looked to see who had tapped me and it was Shoko. I quickly got up from my seat and started asking her a million questions. "How (Y/N)!? She's ok, right? Nothing too serious... right?" Shoko looked at me, giving me a worried look.

"(Y/N)... Her body is ok but it seems like the curse burnt the left side of her face. She hasn't woken up yet. There's a very high chance that she won't be able to see out of her left eye anymore. There's also a chance she can't see out of her right eye, but for now, her right side isn't badly burnt. A mark here and there on her right side, but not much. Wanna wait for her here, or are you gonna head home?"

I sighed, relieved that she's mostly ok. "I'll sleep here tonight. Am I allowed in her room?" Shoko nodded and made a hand movement to follow her. I followed her into (Y/N)'s room. The left side of her face is covered in bandages. Her long (H/C) hair rested on her shoulders. She was in a deep sleep.

"Since there wasn't much damage to the rest of her body, she should wake up by tomorrow. Besides that, you should get checked out too Kento. You're bleeding from your shoulder a bit." I nodded in agreement as she cleaned my shoulder. I looked at her, and right before I could ask her, she spoke up.

"I know what you're thinking, Why don't I heal up her eye. The thing is I don't know how to bring someone's sight yet, but once I am able to do that, I'll let you both know. Now get some rest. It looks like you need it." And with that, Shoko left the room. I stayed staring at (Y/N), wishing she would just wake-up at that moment. Wishing that once she woke up, she could see. I just wanted to hug her, kiss her, be in her arms... What an anniversary.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope I didn't do too badly for my 1st chapter. I really hope yall enjoyed this. 2nd chapter to come soon! I kinda made Y/N's pov shorter, I don't really know why. Anyways, see you all in the next chapter.

[maddiethedog2]

The Birthday - Part 3

As awareness started to wash over me again, I smiled. I felt good. I was relaxed, comfortable, and more happy then I could remember being in years. The events of earlier in the day felt like a distant nightmare. Being tied down, diapered, and gagged with a pacifier all felt like a dream. I thought to myself, maybe it was. Being forcefully babied by my wife did sound like something my fucked up subconscious would spit up.

So, to test this hypothesis, without opening my eyes, I tried to move my hands. One at a time, I pulled each of my hands to my body, and, to my surprise and delight, I wasn't met with any resistance. I tried the same thing with my feet, pulling my knees up to my chest. Just like with my hands and arms, I could move my feet and legs freely. Maybe this morning was all just a dream?

Feeling a familiar pressure in my bladder, I turned my body and sat up on the edge of my bed, the comforter still sitting on my lap. I looked around the room and nothing has changed from what I remembered prior to this morning. There were no restraints left on the bed. There weren't blindfolds or other BDSM supplies left on my nightstand. The room was clean, other than the bed being dishevelled from my sleeping in it, and was lit by a warm, late afternoon light.

Give the state of the room, I finally concluded that the events from earlier in the day must have been a bad dream. So, with my bladder aching for relief, I stood up and began walking to the bathroom. For some reason, I didn't notice the crinkling noise at every step I took or the pronounced waddle that I had with each step. I didn't even look at my reflection in the mirror as I hurriedly scuttled to my destination. My whole focus was on getting to the bathroom as quickly as possible to relieve myself. My need to pee was growing stronger much faster.

It didn't take long for my eyes to fall on my goal. The porcelain throne of my relief lay just before me. However, as I reached down to pull down my boxers, I was interrupted by a voice.

"Oh, good! You're awake! How did the birthday boy sleep?" I hear my wife's soft voice gently intone behind me.

At the sound of her voice, I turn around suddenly and face her. I can't help but smile. Despite the horrible nightmare I had earlier, she looks incredibly sexy, wearing a beautiful yellow sundress, low-cut on top to expose her ample cleavage, and cut-high on the bottom to show off her legs. I am a lucky man, I think to myself.

"I sweept guud! Danks!" I lisped out in response to Melody's question. I was oblivious to the large rubber nipple occupying my mouth, making it difficult for me to pronounce words properly. Melody giggled in response as she walked closer to me.

For some reason, as she came closer, a sensation of fear sent a shiver down my spine. Has she always seemed so much bigger than me? I thought. Before I could dwell on that thought though, Melody began to speak again.

"I am so glad to hear that baby! I wouldn't want you getting cranky on your big day. But, I have a question, why are you in the bathroom?" She asked, curiously, with a hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes.

"I've gotta pee," I responded, still oblivious to the object occupying my mouth, "I'll finish dat, den come see j'you." Melody's smile became predatory.

"Oh, baby, you didn't need to come hide in here when you potty! You can just go whenever you want to!" She said.

"What?" I lisped out, confused.

"Just make your pee-pees and poo-poos wherever you want, love. You don't need to hide like a naughty toddler. I won't judge you for using your diaper, that is what it's for!" Melody said.

At those words, my head swam. I became slightly dizzy. I grabbed the wall, and, for the first time, looked down at myself.

Like I expected, I was mostly naked expect for my underwear. My hairy, somewhat pasty dad bod on full display. What I didn't expect was the underwear I was wearing. Around my waist where, after discounting the days earlier events as a bad dream, I expected to see boxers, hung a gigantic white and pastel blue diaper adorned with a cartoon teddy bear laying on alphabet blocks. The giant, babyish garment dropped wetly between my legs. The blue line of the wetness indicator declaring for everyone who could see it that I had already thoroughly soaked the garments padding.

My mouth gaped open as I stared at myself in disbelief. As my lips parted, a pacifier that I had also not been aware of up until that point, fell to the bathroom tile accompanied by a line of drool leading directly to my parted lips.

Realization hit me like a freight train. My nightmare wasn't a dream. I was still living it.

"What the fuck, Mommy?" I said to Melody as I looked down at my wet diaper and drool covered pacifier. "Wait, why did I call you Mommy? Mommy. Mommy. Mama!" Despite my best efforts, I had discovered that, despite my best efforts otherwise, I couldn't call Melody anything but Mommy or Momma now.

I looked back up at my wife, who was now grinning from ear to ear. The totality if my situation was starting to dawn on me. If what I thought was a dream had actually happened, then, I had eventually fallen asleep with those damned headphones on. And, if that had happened, I must have given in. I'd been hypnotized.

Melody laughed as she watched the wheels turning in my head. As the depths of how fucked I was hit me, she put words to my thoughts.

"That's right baby, you fell asleep listening to Mommy's special music, and now I'm in control. You're just like the poor girls you torture in your demented little stories. You are completely and utterly at my whim."

My bladder still ached, and I almost released it in fear at my wife's words. A part of me thought that was curiously. If I had been hypnotized, why did I still have any control of my bodily functions. It didn't take long for that question to be answered.

"Don't worry though, baby, I didn't take too much from you, yet," Melody continued. "Really, I'll I've done so far is to make you a little less observant of your situation when you woke up and made sure you address me properly this weekend."

Those changes didn't sound too bad to me. However, Melody's use of the word 'yet,' was not lost on me.

"That is not to say that I can't do more if you don't behave," my wife continued. "It'll be much more fun if you know you are choosing to be my stinky little baby boy for the weekend, rather than being forced to."

"Fuck that, Mommy! I will not just lay down and be your perfect little baby! I will not just be humiliated like that! Plus, I am not just going to lay down and let you tie me up and hypnotize me again," I spat out. To emphasize my point, I reached for the tapes on my diaper, moving to rip them up in a show of defiance. However, before I could get a good grip on the tapes, Melody spoke again.

"Mommy says freeze," Melody said firmly.

I froze. Suddenly, I couldn't move. My terror started to build. This hypnosis clearly ran deeper than I expected. Regardless, I would not just give in to my wife's carefully designed torture. If anyone was supposed to choose to be the defenseless adult baby, it was her, not me. Letting myself give in and capitulate so easily would make me no better than the fictional women I wrote about in my smut. With renewed determination, I rolled my eyes up to look directly at my wife with, what I hoped, was a look of defiance and control in my eyes.

"Let me be clear, mister," Melody said with her hands on her hips, "You will be wearing and using your diapers this weekend one way or another." Melody continues to lecture me like I've seen her lecture our kids 1000 times, "You may think you have some control in this situation. That is an illusion. Like a real baby, you only have as much control as Mommy says. And, like a real baby, you will do what Mommy says."

The lecture has little effect on me. Despite this show of power, I was still certain my mind was strong enough, mature enough, to break my wife's hypnosis. I continued to ineffectually glare at her from my frozen position.

"This is what is going to happen. I am going to release you. You are going to prove to me that you are going prove to me that you can be a good baby for Mommy. If you don't, I am going to show you how much control I really have," Melody informed me.

She walked closer as she gave me further instructions. Despite my resolve to maintain my dignity, I still couldn't help but feel like her tiny frame was somehow looking over my much larger one as she spoke.

"You already told Mommy you have to make pee-pee. When I release you, you are going to prove to me you are a good baby, deserving of maintaining the control you have, by wetting your pants, do you understand?"

I just glared in response. Partially because I couldn't move my mouth or nod my head, but partially, and I would like to think this was the larger part, out of obstinance. Melody, however, choose to take my lack of response as acquiescence.

"Good boy. Mommy says you can move," Melody said.

I stumbled a little as my muscles loosened and I regained the ability to freely move.

"Now, wet yourself," she commanded.

"No!" I asserted, "I am not your fucking baby doll."

I reached for the tape of the soggy diaper wrapped around my waist again, determined to remove it and use the toilet like the adult I am. Once again, before I could make any progress, Melody interrupted me.

"Mommy says freeze," she commanded. I once again found myself reverted to a living, breathing statue. I let out a gutteral growl from my throat, the only noise I could easily make.

Melody leaned over, lovingly placed one hand on my cheek, and made eye contact with me.

"That was very, very naughty baby boy. I hoped that just freezing you was all you were going to need to be a good boy for me, but, apparently, you need Mommy to teach you a lesson," she said with a fringe of disappointment in her voice. "I am going to make sure you don't fight using your cute little diapys any more." Melody reached around me and lightly slapped my diapered ass for emphasis.

If I could have, I would have swallowed in nervousness. I have read, and written, enough ABDL smut to know what she was going to do next. She would say 'Mommy says you aren't potty trained,' or something similar, and I would release my very full bladder into my already wet diaper, causing it to leak over the floor. I'd be embarrassed. However, from my position, at least Melody and I would know that I hadn't given in, she had to force me to set myself.

Unfortunately, my premonition of what was going to happen next was wrong.

Melody stopped making eye contact me and leaned closer into me, placing her lips next to right ear. She then softly whispered her next command.

"Mommy says you are terrified of potties. Mommy says you are certain something horrible will happen the next time you use one."

Suddenly, a new phobia took root in my psyche. When I thought about toilets, my body filled with an irrational feeling of dread. Despite my overwhelming need to pee, I was suddenly certain in the depths of my soul, that if I actually used the porcelain monster behind me, my life would be in danger.

This new fear created a strange cognitive dissonance in my head. I still DID NOT want to use the diaper strapped around my waist like the pathetic man-toddler Melody wanted me to be. However, the idea of using any sort of 'potty' filled me with such a sense of existential dread that I almost found myself wetting my pants out of fear at the thought of it.

Melody's lesson wasn't over though.

"Mommy says that you are no stronger than a real toddler and are easily overpowered by me," Melody added.

Still reeling from the first command, the ramifications of the second hypnosis-enforced edict from my wife didn't immediately concern me.

Melody pulled back from my still frozen form and crossed her arms, taking the stance of a mother, about to punish a naughty child.

"Now, baby, you already told me you need to go potty. Also, you have made it abundantly clear you do not want to use your diapers. So, I am going to give you this opportunity to prove you are a big boy. I am going to help you go potty on the big boy potty, doesn't that sound fun? Mommy says unfreeze."

"No, please, no! Mommy, you can't make me. Please, don't make me go near it!" I pleaded desperately as soon as my control came back to me. Fear had taken over my body at my wife's decree. Tears had started to well in my eyes at the thought of sitting on the toilet.

I stated to work my way out of the bathroom in fear, attempting to push my way past Melody. I thought, maybe, if I made it outside, I could pee in a bush or something, and save myself the embarrassment of using the diaper wrapped around my waist as well as the terror that came from potentially using the dreaded potty. Unfortunately, before I could get far, Melody grabbed me. I tried to push past her, but found, as I should have expected, I couldn't use any more force than a toddler would against their mother. My wife was easily able to gain control of me by grabbing my wrists.

"No, no you don't baby! You have made it very clear you want to be a big boy and use the big boy potty, so that is what you are going to do!" Melody said, now dragging me easily by my wrists towards the porcelain monster, sitting menacingly in the corner of the room.

"Please, Mama, please, don't make me! Please don't make me use a toilet!" I started to beg as I ineffectually tried to pull away.

"This is what you wanted, big boy, so this is what you get!" My wife said as she dragged me through our restroom towards the toilet like a toddler who refused to be potty trained.

With each step closer to the toilet, my fear grew. Tears of terror welled up and began to pour from my eyes. I became unable to communicate I'm full sentences. Mucus started to drip from my nose.

"Mama... Please... No... No potty... No... Please no..." I wailed like a tantruming toddler as Melody continued to drag me across the bathroom floor.

When we got within a step of the toilet, my rational mind has given in. I was willing to do anything to avoid having to risk being eaten by the potty monster in front of me. In fear and desperation, I gave in. I let my bladder loose and flooded my already full diaper.

A loud hissing sound began to accompany my wails of terror. I felt the warm, wet urine fill the already saturated padding as I let lose. I then felt the fresh urine, with no where else to go, begin to leak out the leg gatherers of my babyish pants and form a puddle on the ground. The shame I felt at giving in was still overwhelmed by the terror of potentially being forced to sit on or, heaven forbid, use a toilet.

It didn't take long for Melody to notice the puddle growing on the floor. As she held my wrists, she couldn't help but smile.

"Oh no! I thought you were a big boy who used the potty? Did you just make pee-pees in your diapy?" Melody said with a look of victory in her eyes. She temporarily relented from dragging me across the bathroom floor, letting me sit my diapered ass in the growing puddle of urine underneath me.

I looked up at her, fear of the toilet, shame that I choose to piss myself rather than use a toilet, and hope that Melody wouldn't force me to use the dreaded 'potty' all drifting through me. I told her the truth.

"Yes, I peed myself," I choked out hopefully through sobs.

"What was that baby? I didn't understand you. If you don't want me to make you use the potty like a big boy, I need you to tell me what you did like the pathetic toddler you are," Melody responded.

I gritted my teeth in anger at being reduced to this, but one glance at the toilet standing less than two feet from where I was sitting, my fear took control again.

"Mommy, me make pee-pees in my diapy! Pwease don't make me use da potty!" I lisped out, unable to keep my desperation and terror from leaking into the last sentence.

My wife just giggled in response.

"Are you sure? You were SO adamant you were a big boy just a couple of minutes ago? Don't you just want to at least TRY to go potty on the potty?" She responded.

My terror spiked again. She wouldn't still force me to sit on that monstrosity would she? I could die!

Desperate to appease the monster that was my wife, I quickly responded.

"No, Mama! Me no want potty! Please, no potty! Me.... Baby."

I let the last word come out quietly. I let my head fall in shame. Melody had defeated me. She had forced me to choose to use my diaper. For all intents and purposes at this point, I was a baby.

Melody smiled. She looked down at me and saw, I am certain, just what I had admitted to being: a giant, pathetic, overgrown toddler, who had flooded his pampers in terror to avoid being potty trained. For fuck sake, I was still sitting in a puddle of my own piss only two feet from the toilet.

"Well, I guess I was right, you're just too little to be potty trained," she said triumphantly.

I didn't respond. Couldn't respond. I had lost. I had chosen to utterly debase myself, rather than use a fucking toilet like an adult. I couldn't claim that I was an adult or even a 'big boy' who was 'already potty trained' to her. The shame I felt at acting like a toddler was almost overpowered by the relief I felt in hearing that my wife wasn't going to try to potty train me.

For now, at least, I would have to be her perfect little man-baby.