#i mean I'm not old enough to be his mom but i still feel like a creepy old lady

[millerflintstone]

Finally watched Renfield last night and it was way better than I was expecting.

Here's an About a Boy gif for reference @thulium You can see it but he definitely lost lot of that baby softness

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i would like to stop experiencing the full spectrum of human emotions every day please. putting this out into the universe

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole is personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

[torrancefavgirl]

Percy taking care of you when you're on your period

Literally writing this as I'm dying from cramps so I have to indulge

My god the sweetest motherfucker ever

He's literally top tier at this

If u think his mom didn't explain all of this shit to him since he was old enough??? YOURE WRONG

Okay he may have panicked a bit when it first happened but he's all good now

If you bleed on his bed, don't you dare be embarrassed cause he'll look at you like you grew 2 extra heads

Emotional outbursts/hormones being a bitch, he will take care of you & always understand

This man will never make you feel like you're overreacting or overly emotional ever

He knows how much that shit effects your body

If there's anything he doesn't know he'll immediately ask his mom or go online even subreddits

You cannot tell me he didn't make you atleast one a little period care kit/basket wtv

Will drop everything including waking up at 3am if you have a craving

Also waking up whenever you need him because of your cramps

His fav way to sooth your cramps is to rub your lower belly

He has a whole ass drawer in his bed side table that has any essentials you could need

Will memorize the type of pads/tampons that you use (he called you panicking in the supermarket cause of how many kinds were there)

Like I said Belly rubs, belly rubs, belly rubs.

NSFW WARNING

When he was reading shit on the internet trying to find stuff to make you feel better, he found out about orgasms helping with the pain

Let's just say he'll never ever object to that

There's this stupid quote about a real soldier is not afraid to get his sword bloody & honestly he kinda lives by it

So, that means period sex & no don't ever say you're embarrassed or grossed out

Don't wonder if he's grossed out cause how could you think of such stuff

Will obviously ask you if you're comfortable with that

He'll be so so gentle, literally the most gentle he's ever been

He doesn't think you're glass but he knows how extra sensitive your body is

Speaking of sensitivity, he'll use that to his advantage & make you literally exhausted to the point where you don't even have the energy to pay attention to the pain if it's still there

In conclusion: he's literally perfect (duh)

[slut4thebroken]

Practice Makes Perfect

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | stepdad!Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | You go to your stepdad for help… with very pure intentions… obviously. (Heheh)

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, innocence kink, corruption, large age gap, but not under age, hand jobs, oral both m and f receiving, spanking, daddy kink technically, also incest I guess?, groping, thigh riding, praise, a sprinkle of degradation and humiliation.

Words | 7.5 k

Notes | I hope it was worth the wait folks. Also ionno how I feel about this gif but whatever lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You liked making men crave what they could never have, that’s why you dress the way you do. But it seemed like the one man you actually wanted to crave you, never did. Much to your disappointment. 

But you liked doing it in a subtle way, where at first glance, it wouldn’t seem like your goal was to get his attention. You’d wear loose, frilly skirts, always on the shorter side, but not short enough to be too obvious, and tight crop tops that were somewhat see-through. You also liked wearing pretty dresses and knee high socks and dainty jewelry and soft makeup. All of which at first glance would just seem like a cute, unintentionally sexy— yet still in an innocent way somehow— outfit. 

Nothing you ever did caught his eye though. Sometimes you’d forego the bra all together so that your nipples were just barely poking through the thin fabric of your top, but you still didn't get a reaction. So you decided to step it up. 

“Mr. Rippner?” You asked quietly, making him look up from the computer screen as you hesitantly walked in. 

“How many times have I told you to call me Jackson.” He said teasingly.  

“Sorry…” You couldn’t help the blush that painted your cheeks when he gave you a soft smile. 

“What's up?” 

“I can come back later if you’re busy…”

“Never too busy for you. Come sit.” He clicked a few buttons on the computer then gave you his full attention. You dragged one of the arm chairs a little closer to his desk, then sat down. 

“I just… had a question— questions. But I’m scared to ask my mom.” You said quietly, nervously playing with the fabric of your skirt. 

“Scared?” 

“I don’t want her to see me any differently… and I’m scared that asking this might do that.” 

“You can talk to me.” His tone was so genuine that it made you want to tell him anything and everything about yourself, even your deepest secrets. His warm smile wasn’t helping much either. 

“Thank you… So, um— there’s this guy that I like..” He just barely stiffened when you said that. “He’s older,”

“How much older?” 

“A little more than twenty years…” 

“He’s in his forties?” 

“Early fourties, yes.” You said quietly, not able to maintain eye contact any longer. You couldn’t figure out what emotion was on his face right now. “But I really really like him, Mr. Rippner, and he treats me right.” 

“Any man going after you who’s that old will not treat you right.” 

“Oh…” You kept your eyes on your lap as your chest ached. Even though this wasn’t a direct rejection it still hurt. “Sorry.” 

“Hey— no, I'm sorry.” His tone was noticeably softer. “I just worry about you, kiddo.” Your whole face heated up at the name, as it always does. “I'm sorry. If you still want to talk, I'm here for you.” 

“Thanks…” When he didn’t say anything, you took that as your cue to continue. “I- I’ve been having.. bad thoughts about him, Mr. Rippner. And I know that it’s wrong, but I just can’t help it. I don’t even really know what he’s making me feel, just that it makes me feel dirty…” His cheek tensed as he clenched his jaw.  

“Inappropriate thoughts, you mean?” He clarified and you nodded in response. “I see. And before I respond, what exactly is it that you’re asking me?” 

“I- I want to impress him… but I’ve never done.. anything. I’m scared I’ll make a fool of myself, so I was hoping… you could help me?”

“Help you?” He choked out. You nodded and bit your lip. “Let me just make sure I’m hearing this right. You want to fuck a man twice your age,” you blushed at his crude words, “but you’re nervous about it… so you’re asking your step father, who’s also twice your age, to help you practice so you feel more confident?” 

“I’m sorry, this was stupid.” You muttered as you got to your feet. 

“Sit down.” His voice was technically still soft, but you could hear the underlying sternness in his tone, so you lowered yourself back down in the chair. “Why me?” 

“I just… I trust you a lot, Mr. Rippner— more than most. I know you’d never do anything to take advantage of me.” You said, even though you hoped he would. 

“And what about your mom?” That made you frown. 

“I didn’t mean it in a cheating way. Just for you to show me what to do— to teach me. That’s not cheating.” 

“Sweetheart…” He started, making your frown deepen. “You understand why this would be wrong other than that, right?” 

“…No.” You did. 

“Not even talking about the fact that I'm twice your age— I’m your step father. This is not something that step fathers teach their step daughters.” He explained gently. 

“Oh.. I guess you don’t have to, then. I can just… ask him to teach me or something.” 

“Absolutely not.” He said sternly, startling you. “Telling him that will practically give him the green light to manipulate and coerce you.” 

“He wouldn’t do that.” You frowned. 

“Yes he would. Every man would.” 

“Clearly not every man.” You muttered. 

“Look,” he sighed, “I do want to help you, kiddo, but it’s more complicated than that.” 

“It doesn’t have to be..” 

“But it is.” 

“Are you not attracted to me?” You asked suddenly. “Is that why?” He sighed again and looked away from you, making your stomach churn. “Oh.” You felt like you were about to cry any minute now— this is not going how it was supposed to at all. You felt stupid and embarrassed and you wished you never came in here. 

“I…” he sighed, “It's not that. I shouldn’t be attracted to you, honey. It’s wrong.”

“…But you are?” He said ‘shouldn’t’ so maybe that’s a good sign. 

“It’s doesn’t matter if I am,” 

“I’m attracted to you, Mr. Rippner.” You said quietly, waiting nervously for his reaction. “It doesn’t feel wrong.” He let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes as his head tilted back a little. You watched him carefully, trying to figure out what he was thinking. When he suddenly leaned back up and opened his eyes, they were significantly darker, the pretty, pale blue almost gone now. “Mr. Rippner?” You asked when he didn’t say anything. 

“I’m not going to show you, but I’ll tell you. How does that sound?” You frowned and looked away. 

“Okay… If you think that’s best, I trust you.” You said, silently praying for him to do more than talk to you. 

“Let’s just start off with you telling me what you do know.” 

“Um… Well, I’ve seen people kiss.. and I’ve tried to practice, but it feels awkward and I don’t want it to be weird when it happens.” 

“You never kissed anyone?” His eyebrows were raised as he stared at you in poorly concealed surprise. 

“…No.” You said, voice small. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, “okay. What else?” 

“I mean… I think I mostly know how the rest of it goes? The part where.. I don’t really do much. It’s the other parts that I don’t know.” 

“You mean foreplay?” You nodded with a blush. “And you know how to practice safe sex, right?” 

“A condom?” 

“That’s the most common way, yes.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy breath. “Okay. I think I can help you out with some of it, but the rest you might just need to practice on your own. 

“But I have!” Your blush deepened when you realized what you just implied. 

“You have?”

“I- I mean.. I just— It…” Nothing you could say would save you. 

“Dirty girl… Do you have a toy hidden somewhere?” He said teasingly and you didn’t know how to respond, not when the real answer is so much more embarrassing and perverted. 

“Something like that..” He examined you carefully, making you feel like he was uncovering every secret you've ever had. 

“Oh I see.” He chuckled. “Creative little minx, aren’t you? What’d you use?” You looked down and bit your lip, feeling far too embarrassed right now. “Hairbrush handle? Cucumber?” 

“Stop teasing me, Mr. Rippner.” You pouted and he gave you a small smile.

“I’ll stop teasing once you stop calling me that.” When your gaze stayed on your lap, he continued. “Where'd you use it? Your mouth or your cunt?” Your head snapped up with a gasp at his vulgar language. 

“Mr. Rippner!” You scolded him, but your cheeks were far too red to uphold the sternness of your reprimand.

“It’s just a simple question, kiddo. You’re going to have to get used to those words if you want my help. I can’t really explain it without saying it.” 

“I- I know. It just caught me off guard is all and um… mouth.” You muttered, not able to maintain eye contact. “But I couldn't do it, it was too hard.” 

“What’d you try to do, sweetheart?”

“I dunno… just— anything that I thought might be right. I didn’t really know what to do.” You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Need someone to teach me…” 

“You know that I can’t.” He said softly. 

“But how else am I supposed to learn? Why can’t you just help me?” You pouted, making him sigh. 

“I am helping you.” 

“But….” You were going to beg again, but so far that’s gotten you nowhere, so you decided to try something else. “Fine— I’ll just find someone else!” You said, standing up and turning around to walk out. 

“Sit down. I won’t tell you again.” He said sternly, making you freeze, but not turn around yet. 

“Mr. Rippner…” You finally turned back to face him, but you couldn’t look at him, “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day,”

“You really don’t want me to tell you again.” He warned and for the first time, you felt a little afraid of him. It was flustered fear, but fear nonetheless. You slowly walked back over and sat down again. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to help you, but you’re not going to tell anyone. Especially your mother. Do you understand?” You couldn’t help the smile that creeped up on your face as you nodded. 

“Come here.” You got back up and walked around the desk, waiting awkwardly for the next instruction. “On your knees.” Your stomach fluttered and you could feel the ache between your legs that you usually get when you’re near him. Slowly lowering yourself to the ground, you placed your hands on your lap and looked up at him as he rolled his chair back and faced you. 

“Do whatever you think is right. I’ll stop you or tell you what to do if you need help.” Even though that made you nervous because there was a higher chance you’d embarrass yourself, you agreed. 

Shuffling forward, you settled between his legs and reached for his belt. The bulge in his pants was already making your mouth water and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. His breath hitched when you accidentally brushed his crotch, but he let you continue until his pants were open enough for you to pull them down a little and reach inside to take out his length. 

You gasped at the size of him and stared at it with wide eyes and slightly parted lips— how is this ever going to fit.. anywhere inside you when it barely fits in your hand? He brushed your hair out of your face and you swallowed thickly as you forced your eyes away from his length to look up at him. 

“Y-you’re… Are they all this big?” You asked nervously, making him chuckle quietly. 

“Not all, but I’m only a little above average.” 

“Oh.” So the average is only a little smaller? That didn’t ease your nerves at all. 

“Just take it slow, kiddo. Don’t rush into it, go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” You were struggling to get yourself to follow the soft demand because of how badly you wanted to impress him. “Start with your hand.” You nodded and swallowed down the lump in your throat as you reached for his length. Tentatively grasping it in your hand, you stroked him slowly, looking up at him for confirmation. “A little harder, love.” You squeezed harder, but immediately pulled back when he winced. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“That’s okay. Here,” he took your hand in his and wrapped it around his cock, moving it slowly. “Like this, okay?” When you nodded, he let go for you to continue on your own. You noticed that his limited reactions seemed to mostly happen when you were at the tip, so you focused on that, rubbing your thumb over the bead of clear liquid on top, making him curse under his breath. 

“You know what that is?” He asked, almost breathlessly. 

“…Precum?” You were terrified of embarrassing yourself by saying the wrong thing, but you vaguely remembered learning that somewhere. 

“That’s right.. good girl. Have a taste.” With a blush from the praise, you tentatively brought your hand up and sucked your thumb into your mouth. “Do you like it?”

“I think so. It’s… watery but a little sweet almost?” He laughed quietly and you gave him a small smile. 

“Keep going.” You started stroking him again, keeping the pace a little slow as you got used to it. “Do you want to try using your mouth now?” You looked up at him nervously, but nodded anyway. “Okay, just suck on the tip while you keep stroking it.” You shuffled forward even closer and placed your free hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you leaned up a little. When you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, he let out a shaky breath and put his hand on top of yours on his thigh. 

“Suck it and flick your tongue over it,” you obeyed and he let out a low moan, “there you go… Keep using your hand.” You hadn’t even realized you stopped stroking him until he mentioned it. 

“Atta girl. You’re a natural, kiddo.” You couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out at the praise, even if he was just teasing you. You continued stroking his length while mouthing at the tip, not sure what to do next. Thankfully he seemed ready to help you with that. 

“You want to draw it out a little so how about you practice kissing, hm?” You perked up at the thought of finally being able to kiss him, but almost pouted when you realized he didn’t mean on his lips. You gave the tip and quick kiss, then looked up at him, asking a silent question of what to do. “Kiss all over it, sweetheart.” You obeyed, working your way down the underside of his cock. “Good girl. Keep going down.” You were quickly reaching the base and you looked up at him in confusion. 

“You didn’t think you were just going to suck my cock, did you?” He chuckled, making you frown. You did think that… What else would you suck? “Start with kissing and licking my balls.” That made you pull back as your eyes widened. 

“Your— But… Is that,” 

“You’re not going to impress any man with a mediocre blow job. I’m trying to help you, baby.” You didn’t know that was a thing you had to do… and for some reason it felt dirtier than everything you’ve done so far. He picked up on your apprehension and his teasing smirk dropped into a more serious expression. 

“Hey, we don’t have to.” He said softly, genuinely. “The second you change your mind, we’re done, no questions asked. I can make you some hot chocolate and put on that movie you like and we don’t have to mention this ever again.” 

“I…” You swallowed the lump in your throat as your gaze shifted between his eyes and his cock. “Can we still do all of that after we do this?” You asked timidly, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile as he reached out to pet your hair. 

“Of course we can, kiddo. I’m pretty much done with work for the day so I’m all yours until it’s your bedtime.” You flushed at the mention of the silly rule he was so adamant about implementing. You told him that you’re an adult and adults don’t have bedtimes and he said that he just wants what’s best for you and that getting a good night's sleep is one of the best things you could do to take care of yourself. You didn’t protest again after that— mostly just because you liked the idea of him having that power over you. 

“Since it’s Friday… could we maybe.. extend my bedtime?” You asked coyly, staring up at him with wide pleading eyes. He raised his brows as he looked down at you for a moment before letting out a breathy laugh and looking away. 

“You’re getting too spoiled. I might as well start calling you princess.” He said with a sly smile, making you blush. 

“If I’m your princess, does that make you my daddy?” You asked innocently, making his breath catch in his throat, but he recovered quickly and decided to tease you a little. 

“Now where did you learn something like that?” Your blush intensified and you couldn’t maintain eye contact any longer. 

“Heard some classmates talking about it…” 

“Aren’t you a nosy little thing? But no kiddo, that doesn’t make me your daddy. I’m still just plain old stepdad Jackson.” He said with a small shrug. 

“But… if I want you to be?” You asked nervously. He let out a heavy breath that turned into a quiet chuckle. 

“If you want me to be… Then, we'll do a trial run tonight, how does that sound?”  

“Good. Thank you, daddy.” You decided to try it out immediately and it was strange how natural the word fell from your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his cock twitch. 

“Okay, princess. You do a good job and I’ll reward you by pushing your bedtime back an hour.” That made your face light up, but you were feeling bold right now. 

“…Two?” 

“Thirty minutes?” He asked, in the same tone as you, making you pout and accept his original offer of one hour. “Pick up where you left off.” He spread his legs to give you more room to shuffle forward and lean your face close to his length, but instead of aiming for his cock, you went lower. You did as he instructed, kissing and licking them gently. It felt dirty and wrong doing this, but somehow, at the same time, like the most fulfilling thing you've ever done. 

“Now suck one into your mouth.” The second your lips wrapped around one, he cursed under his breath and let out a sigh of pleasure, but it quickly turned into a wince, making you pull back instantly. “Gotta be gentler, honey.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” You rushed out, face flushing with shame, and he shushed you. 

“It’s okay. Just do it a little softer.” You hesitantly leaned forward to try once again, now much more apprehensive this time. “There you go…” He cooed, “Few more seconds, then do the same to the other one. Don’t forget to use your hand on my cock while you do this.” You blushed at the crude words but wrapped a hand around his length again to start pumping slowly before releasing him with a loud pop and moving to the other one. His sounds gave you confidence and you flicked your tongue as you sucked, then pulled back to keep licking and kissing while you stroked him. It was hard to multitask though with how overwhelmed you were getting from his scent and his hand holding yours on his thigh and just his closeness. 

You tried not to get too embarrassed when your spit kept building up until it was covering your lips and chin, making you feel even dirtier. But you realized that you like how it feels. You like feeling filthy as you make him feel good. 

You kept mouthing at his balls, occasionally sucking on them, and he placed his free hand on your head, stroking your hair. 

“Fuck… Look at you— Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” He asked teasingly, not giving you a chance to reply before speaking again. “There’s no way this mouth belongs to my innocent little girl.” You blushed, feeling shy at the compliment. 

“Daddy…” You whined against him, never stopping the movement of your hand or mouth. 

“It’s okay, kiddo. You just keep sucking on my balls and stroking my cock. Don’t need to do anything else.” You whimpered and squirmed at his feet, quickly growing uncomfortable with the weird feeling between your legs. 

“Daddy, it hurts.” You didn’t want to disobey him by stopping right after he told you to keep going, so you barely pulled back enough to get the words out. 

“What hurts?” You whined quietly and pressed your thighs together. His gaze traveled down your body curiously. “Your cunt?” You mewled and blushed at the vulgar word, but nodded in agreement. 

“You’re a proper whore, aren’t you?” He chuckled, making you frown and pull back. 

“No…” 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, baby. If sucking balls is what gets you off, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Stop making fun of me.” You pouted, making him smile. “And ‘m not a whore.” 

“Of course you’re not a whore, princess. You’re my whore.” Your entire face heated up and the ache between your legs got infinitely worse. “Isn’t that right?” You whined quietly and he chuckled. 

“Y-yes…” You whispered. “Yours.” 

“My what?” Your expression turned into a pout and you averted your gaze. “Hm?”

“Your— your whore.” You choked out as tears welled in your eyes from the humiliation of it all.  

“Good girl. Keep going.” 

“But,” He gave you a warning look so you ignored the fire in your belly and leaned back in. Your hand picked up again as you tried new things with your mouth on his balls, making sure to repeat the ones that drew any sounds from him. There was even more saliva now and you could feel some of it dripping down your neck to your chest.

“Go a little lower now.” 

“W-what?” You choked out, trying to pull back, but he used the hand on your head to hold you there. “Relax, kiddo. Just a little bit.” He explained, but you were still apprehensive. He pushed you down until your chin hit the chair then pulled you closer, burying your nose into his balls and holding you there. 

“Lick.” He demanded, but you weren’t sure what you were supposed to be licking. Since you weren’t able to question him, you just stuck your tongue out and moved it as best you could with how close he was holding you to his body. “There you fucking go.” He groaned, bucking his hips against your face. 

“So fuckin’ filthy.” He said through a breath. Despite the degrading words he used, his tone was full of admiration and pride. “Covered in your own spit as you lick my taint.” He chuckled, voice a little darker now. “Work your way back up slowly.” He lessened the pressure on your head and you gave one last lick before moving up to his balls, mouthing at them for a few seconds, then kissing up his length until you reached the tip. You pulled back and looked up at him, waiting for the next instruction eagerly. 

“…I’m on the fence about teaching you this.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“What is it?”

“It’s not necessary for a good blow job, you can leave a guy plenty satisfied with what I’ve taught you so far, but this just makes it even better.” You wanted to make him feel even better so there wasn’t any doubt in your mind. 

“Please teach me?” You asked, even though you still weren’t really sure what he was talking about. 

“Are you sure?”

“Please, daddy.” You whined. 

“Okay, princess. Hands off.” You let go of his cock and placed your hand on his thigh. “Open.” Your mouth fell open and he adjusted so he was gripping your hair, then slowly lowered you onto him. 

“First I want you to show me how far down you can take it.” He kept his grip on your hair, but let you move freely. Slowly forcing yourself down, you looked up at him for a moment before taking a deep breath through your nose and closing your eyes to concentrate. This is what you’re not good at. You kept going down until he brushed the back of your mouth. When you tried to move down even more, you gagged and had to pull off. 

“Good girl. Almost halfway.” You all but beamed at the praise. “I’m going to try holding you there. Pinch my thigh if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded and he gave you a small smile. “Take a deep breath.” You inhaled and let your mouth fall open, waiting for him to guide you down onto his cock. He pushed your head slowly until he reached the back of your mouth, then held you still. You were fine for a few seconds as you breathed heavily through your nose and focused on suppressing your gag reflex, but once it started, you couldn’t stop it and you had to pinch his thigh. 

“That was good, kiddo. You’re already getting better. Just try to keep your mouth open wider so your teeth aren’t touching it, okay?” 

“Okay. Sorry…” You looked away, feeling embarrassed. You didn’t know how you were supposed to open your mouth any wider when your jaw was already starting to ache because of his size. 

“Don’t apologize. You’re learning, you’re bound to make a mistake or two.” He said, easing your nerves. 

“Can I try again?” 

“Whenever you’re ready.” You sank down on his cock voluntarily this time and took deep breaths through your nose as he held you there. You didn’t want to gag, but you could feel it coming anyway. When it happened, you squeezed his thighs to keep yourself from pinching him, wanting to hold out a little longer. He shushed you and used a hand to pet your head while the other held you down as your body instinctively tried to pull up. 

“Good girl. See if you can control it.” You squeezed your eyes shut with a strangled whimper and tried to breathe slowly. “That’s it… I'm going to pull you up a little so you can take a breath.” He lifted you only an inch or so up and you heaved in a shaky breath before he pushed you back down. You weren’t expecting him to actually only let you take a single breath, so you gagged again the second he hit the back of your mouth. This time though, you gagged hard enough to make you feel like you could throw up if it happened just one more time so you pinched him and he pulled you off. 

A string of saliva connected your lips to his cock and you panted heavily, trying to catch your breath and push down the nausea. 

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo. You’re doing amazing.” It didn’t feel like you were doing amazing, but you blushed at the compliment anyway. 

“Thank you.” You rasped, giving him a small smile. He cupped your cheek, rubbing the saliva on your lips around a little as he returned the expression. 

“Keep this up and I might consider pushing your bedtime back two hours instead.” Your face lit up at that and he laughed under his breath. 

“Really?” 

“You deserve it.” You smiled and his thumb swiped over your lips again, so you took it into your mouth and sucked lightly. “Christ— You’re going to kill me, baby.” He groaned, making you blush. “Do you think you can try something a little harder now?” 

“I think so.” You said quietly, after reluctantly pulling away from his thumb to speak. 

“I’m going to push you down farther, okay? You’ll probably gag, but I know you can take it.” He pushed your hair out of your face and gave you a reassuring smile. You nodded and moved closer to his length, taking a deep breath and waiting for him to push you down. He did it slowly and stopped once he reached the back of your mouth. Placing both hands on the back of your head, he applied more pressure, but did it quickly. You gagged instantly, but it cut off into a garbled whimper when he breached your throat barrier and pushed you all the way down until your nose was buried in his pelvis and your chin was resting on his balls. 

“Fuck— good fucking girl.” He said through a moan. You tried to stay there despite the intense need to gag, but it was quickly becoming too much. “You feel incredible, baby.” You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing him curse under his breath as you choked. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you pinched his thigh and he hesitated for a second before letting you pull off. He stroked your hair as you coughed and tried to catch your breath. You looked up at him through teary eyes and his other hand moved to cup your cheek and brush his thumb over your lips that were slick with even more saliva now. 

“How you holding up?” He asked softly and you cleared your throat before responding. 

“Good I think..” 

“Do you want to stop?” Kind of… but at the same time you wanted more. More of this— more of him. 

“No- no… I want to keep going.”

“Don’t just say that because you think it’s what I want to hear,”

“‘m not. Wanna keep going.” You whined. 

“Do you want to keep doing this or go back to what you were doing before?” He seemed to like this the most and you wanted to practice so you could get better for him. So even though your throat was already sore, you said yes. 

“This.” 

“Okay, baby. Whenever you’re ready.” You cleared your throat again and tried to even out your breathing before wrapping your lips around the tip again, waiting for him to push you back down. He moved you slowly until he reached the back of your mouth and you braced yourself for what was about to happen. 

Even though you were anticipating it, you still gagged when he applied more pressure, and then choked when he finally entered your throat. You were coughing and sputtering around him, each time forcing more spit out of your mouth, making your face heat up when you felt more of it roll down your neck to your chest. 

“That’s it… Good girl.” The moan that escaped you because of his praise sounded more like a garbled, incoherent sound rather than anything else. “Fuck— I’m gonna come, baby.” He groaned, making your stomach flutter. 

You wanted nothing more than to pull off so you could breathe and cough, but you wanted to let him finish. So you squeezed his thighs hard enough to make him wince and his hips flinched up, burying his cock even deeper. 

“When I pull out, keep your mouth open.” He rushed out and you could only make a strangled sound in return. His hips were rutting up into your mouth now as he kept a tight grip on your head, not letting you move when your body reflexively tried to pull away. He cursed under his breath, then let out a loud groan, and you felt heat in your throat until he pulled out. You coughed, but tried to keep your mouth open as he stroked his cock in front of you, making more come land on your tongue and around your lips. When his sounds quieted and his hand slowed to a stop, he stared down at you as he panted. 

“Swallow.” He demanded softly. You reluctantly closed your mouth and swallowed, then he swiped up the come that landed on your face and put it on your tongue for you to swallow as well. 

You tried not to let it show in your expression, but you weren’t expecting it to taste like that at all and it caught you off guard. Especially because you were expecting more of the sweet taste that the precum had. 

“Everyone tastes like that?” You asked quietly, making him chuckle. 

“I wouldn’t really know, sweetheart, but I would assume so.” He wiped your tears and the spit from your chin and your stomach fluttered again at the soft, simple action. “You did such a good job. I’m so proud, kiddo.” Your whole face flushed at the compliment, but you didn’t understand why he said it since it didn’t seem like you improved much. 

“Thank you..” You said anyway, making the corners of his lips turn up into a small smile. 

“Get up here, princess.” You immediately got giddy at the thought of being so close to him and you eagerly climbed onto the chair and straddled his legs, putting your hands on his shoulders. He rubbed up and down your thighs slowly, teasing you. 

“Do you think you’ve learned enough?” You tried not to frown at the thought of this ending so soon. 

“No…” You muttered, looking down. 

“No? What else can I teach you, baby?” He chuckled. You knew his question was rhetorical, but you answered anyway. 

“I- I don’t know how to… touch myself.” You said with a blush and his eyes widened a little. 

“You don’t touch yourself?” He asked through a breath, almost completely frozen. 

“I’ve tried… I just end up feeling awkward and dumb so I stop. But I need you, daddy, it hurts. Make it go away.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes and a frown. He cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment, his grip tightening on your thighs. 

“Fuck— fuck, okay. I’ll teach you, but after that, no more.” 

“Okay.” You agreed, even though you knew you were going to be begging him to keep going when he decided to stop. He took a deep breath and you waited anxiously for him to do something. 

“You have to start slow, build up to it. Women are different from men, they need more than we do to get started.” His hands dragged up your thighs— over your skirt— to your hips, then up your waist, and sadly back down again. 

“Don’t wanna start slow.” You whined, squirming in his lap. 

“You told me to teach you and that’s what I’m doing, princess.” You huffed and looked away from him with a pout. When he suddenly grabbed your cheeks in one hand, then turned you back to face him and pulled you closer, your breath caught in your throat. 

“I don’t want any attitude from you when I’m the one doing you a favor.” He said lowly, but you were distracted by his breath fanning your lips and his grip on your face. “I control how fast or slow we go. Do you understand?” There was that fear again, only this time you subconsciously tried to grind against him. 

“Y-yes.” You whispered, staring at him with wide eyes, getting needier and needier. “Please,” You whined, squirming again, but stopping when his hand moved down to your throat. 

“What did I just say?” He gritted. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— But I can’t take this anymore, it’s torture!” You cried. He stared at you with a dark look that made you nervous and you waited anxiously for what was next. 

“Fine. Up.”

“Daddy…” You whined, but it cut off then he roughly grabbed your hips and lifted you to your feet. He didn’t even give you a demand before pulling you forward by your hips so that your legs were on either side of one of his. You gasped when he pulled you down and reached for his shoulders to steady yourself. “Grind on my thigh.” 

“W-what?” You choked out, eyes widening even more. 

“If you want to act like a bitch in heat, that’s how you’ll be treated. Hump my fucking thigh or we’re done for tonight.” He menaced, making your whole face heat up. You’ve never heard such degrading words before, especially not aimed at you, and even though you were probably supposed to be upset that he basically just called you a dog… you started moving your hips anyway. 

“You need to learn,” he landed a hard smack on your ass, making you cry out and tighten your grip on his shoulders, “when to fucking listen.” Another spank, this time on your other cheek. “I didn’t have to let you suck my cock, but I did…” When he hit you again, you felt tears brimming in your eyes. “I didn’t have to teach you how to deep throat,” you let out a choked sob when he hit you again, the hardest so far, “but I did.” He growled, spanking you twice in quick succession. 

“I’m sorry!” You cried, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Look at the fucking mess you’re making.” He roughly fisted your hair and forced your head down so you could see the damp spot on his pants where you were grinding. You whined, getting so overwhelmed with the feeling between your legs and his words and his hands and just him. 

“Get the fuck up.” He suddenly said, making your heart drop. Was he going to leave you like this? All needy and achy?

“Daddy, ‘m sorry.” You whimpered, staring at him with puppy dogs eyes and a pout. In response, he just lifted you off of him by your hips and stood up. You protested with a whine, but it cut off when he pushed you in front of the desk and roughly forced your chest down on it. You tried lifting yourself up, but he just placed a firm hand between your shoulder blades and forced you back down. 

“Stay.” He growled, making you stiffen. He flipped your skirt up and you squirmed with a low whine. “No shorts?” He spanked you again and you quickly scrambled for purchase on the desk. When he roughly groped your ass, you let out a quiet moan and squeezed your thighs together, but he kicked your legs apart, not letting you have any relief. 

“Daddy…” You whined, but it cut off into a yelp when he spanked you again. He roughly cupped your sex and you mewled in response as you pushed your hips back. 

“Such a needy fucking pussy for a virgin.” He gruffed, making you blush, but it only intensified when he pulled your panties to the side. 

“Fuck…” He muttered, then dragged a finger through your slit, spreading your arousal. “Fuck!” You jumped at the sudden increase in volume. Was he mad? He sounded like he was quickly losing his composure and you weren’t exactly sure why or how you could help him. 

“Daddy?” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, roughly gripping your underwear and pulling until he ripped it off of you. “Just shut the fuck up.” 

“Mmph!” He shoved your panties in your mouth before you could even register what was happening. He ignored you and roughly groped your ass again, pulling you apart to spread your holes and cursing under his breath. When wetness and heat replaced the chilly air on your clit, your hips flinched back toward the pleasure as a surprise moan escaped you. 

He licked over you slowly, still having a firm grip on your ass to keep you spread open. Moving up to your hole, he licked and sucked, making a loud, vulgar slurping sound that had you whining from embarrassment. 

You whimpered, hiding your burning face in your arms. He lapped up your arousal for a while before going back down to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. You choked on a whimper at the sudden, intense pleasure, making him chuckle against you. 

Your knees shook and you moved your hands to grip the desk, trying to ground yourself, but it was just so fucking intense. Eventually, your legs got too weak to hold you up and all of your weight was resting on the desk with the hard wood digging into your hip bones painfully. 

You whimpered, feeling your stomach tighten with arousal even more, but let out an anguished sob when he suddenly pulled back. Your head was spinning with how fast he lifted you off of the desk and sat you down on his chair, removing the makeshift gag.

He pulled your hips to the edge and dove back in eagerly. Your hands landed in his hair as you rocked your hips against his face, moaning and whining at the new feeling— you could already tell you were getting addicted. Moving down to your hole, he lapped up your arousal and rubbed his thumb over your clit, making your stomach feel even tighter.  

“If you let that… that fucking pervert anywhere near you I swear to god you won’t be able to sit for a fucking week.” He growled and you moaned at his words as well as the sudden possessiveness in his tone. “This pussy is mine. Do you understand?” You mewled and tugged his hair, trying to pull his mouth back on you, but he was stronger. 

“Y-yes. Yours, daddy.” You whined, tugging harder. “Please!” You cried, when he still wouldn’t give in. “It’s yours, daddy! I’m all yours.” You sobbed out, grinding your hips in hopes of getting the stimulation back. 

“Pull your shirt up.” He gruffed, only leaning back down after you obeyed. His mouth took over his thumb again and he reached up to grope your breast as he sucked on your clit in an almost feral manner. “Who’s tits are these?” He mumbled against you, starting to toy with your nipple now. 

“Yours.” 

“Who’s allowed to see them?” He switched hands, giving your other nipple the same treatment. 

“Only you.” You said through a breath, feeling the coil in your stomach get impossibly tighter. 

“Who’s allowed to touch them?” 

“Only you, daddy. Please!” He didn’t respond, he just worked harder and faster on your clit until you fell over the edge. You sobbed out a moan and pulled on his hair hard enough to make him hiss in pain. But that was overshadowed by the feeling flooding your entire body, making you tremble and writhe as you rutted against his face. You weren’t lying when you said you don’t touch yourself, but now that you know what an orgasm feels like? You might start trying honestly. 

Once your body sagged into the chair and your sounds died down, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. You were panting, still trying to calm down even though you were practically dizzy with pleasure. You felt warm hands running up and down your thighs, soothing you, and you gave him a dopey smile as your eyes fluttered open to look down at him. 

“You’ve got quite the grip on you, kiddo.” He chuckled, making you blush and loosen your hands in his hair. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly, trying to rub his scalp a little to soothe the ache he must be feeling from you pulling so hard. 

“You okay?” He asked and you nodded wordlessly. “I… I didn’t mean to get so harsh. I just worry.” 

“I know, it’s okay. I won’t go near him.” It felt like you were hit with a wave of exhaustion all of a sudden. Is that what orgasms do? Make you sleepy?

“Good girl. You tired?” When you nodded, he chuckled quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up really quick. Wait here.” As if you could stand on your wobbly legs. You thought with an internal scoff. He left the room and returned with a damp washcloth a minute later. He started with your face, gently wiping the mascara from under your eyes and the dried spit around your mouth, trailing down your chest. Once that was cleaned up, he went even lower. You jolted when the cloth brushed over your folds. 

“I’ll be quick.” He said, trying to soothe you. He wiped the area gently and you couldn’t help the quiet moan that slipped out when he brushed your clit. “None of that.” He reprimanded you softly and with a smile. When he finished, he pulled your top back down and fixed your skirt. 

“Do you still want that hot chocolate and movie?” You nodded with a lazy smile and he chuckled before picking you up and carrying you to the living room. He set you down on the couch gently and laid a blanket over you, then kissed the top of your head. As he was walking to the kitchen, your brain was already starting to come up with new ways to get this to happen again. You still have so much to learn, after all. 

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[maidservant-hecubus]

My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. His parents were first generation Americans. Their parents escaped the pogroms in Russia and Ukraine and came to find their American dream. They fought in wars and opened businesses and assimilated and my generation barely has a few words of Yiddish between us. My mother is as much of a WASP as it gets. American Revolutionaries and Signers and some household name civil war feature players. Not old money, but old America and undoubtedly white. I'm patrilineal. Not a Jew to a lot of Jews. Not a Jew to a lot of my Jewish family. Even though i was raised Jewish. Even though I look like my father. Even though i got enough of something in my DNA to get asked "What are you?" more often than not. More often than I'm just accepted at face value as "white". When i was little we lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. Like the 5-10 kids in every family sort of Irish catholic neighborhood. The kids calling me a christ killer and refusing to play with me because they heard it from their parents sort of irish catholic neighborhood. For some reason my parents tried to send me to the catholic school down the street. I lasted less than a week because i didn't understand their rituals and their language and they found out my father was a Jew and they couldn't have a christ killer in their midst. I was just sad i didn't get to wear the cute plaid skirt anymore. So i went to the public school and my well meaning shiksa mother who never converted but learned the Chanukah prayers and helped cook Seder dinners came to the school to teach the class about Chanukah. She taught them songs and all the kids got dreidels and had so much fun spinning the top for chocolate coins. It was nice to feel normal. A few weeks later a boy in a higher grade attacked me on the way to the bus and smashed my art project (we had made pig noses from solo cups to celebrate reading charlotte's web) into my face and called me a filthy jew. I didn't understand, i was more upset to lose the project i was so proud of. Other things happened. Things I wont talk about because putting them in context would doxx me. But a million reminders that i wasn't one of them. I wasn't welcome because i was Jewish. My parents divorced. My mother left. Far away so I'd only see her a handful of times growing up. And I went to live with my Dad in a city that seemed like it was overflowing with Jews. Everyone knew my holidays! In public school the teachers looked like my family and had familiar sounding names. We had the high holy days off just like christmas or easter. We sang Chanukah songs in the winter recital and nobody's mom had to come teach them to the class. Finally I belonged! My friends and cousins started planning for their b mitzvah celebrations and i asked for my own. I asked to go to hebrew school so i could be more like the people i belonged with and celebrate the things i loved about myself and them. "But you're not jewish." My father would say. This was news to me. The christ killer. The filthy jew. But a 10 year old has little power over their lives. So i didn't go. I didn't have a bat mitzva while my cousins had theirs. It was okay because i still belonged more than i ever had. But i was still jewish enough to keep the holidays and pray and fast and get sent with a box of matzo to my WASP grandmothers for easter, and have matzo packed in my lunch to eat in AP algebra in 7th grade and get asked if I'm a "Yid" by the teacher. And still to this day not know if it was endearment or insult but by then I knew even in this magical city being a Jew wasn't always safe. in highschool I tried to take hebrew lessons with a friend in a similar situation as me. She was also hungry to reconnect. I don't remember why the classes or the friendship fell through, but they did. My next "friend", a goy raised catholic from another neighborhood, liked to accuse me of being money driven when i picked up a penny on the sidewalk or tried to ask who was going to pay for the zine's she wanted to publish.

 "What are you?" I'd get asked a lot on the street by curious strangers, "Where are you from?" "Are you Italian?" Always Italian. I never really understood that, but its become code in my head for "You look like you're white but something about you is very not white and I just can't place it, so Italian seems safe and polite." I'm not here to unpack the Italian part of all that. I don't even know what I'm unpacking for myself by writing this except I've been sick for days and I'm so tired and this is all that my foggy brain can wrap itself around. Later I'm an adult and on my own and getting bloodwork done. The Nurse is a black woman and so sweet to me. She can tell I'm nervous about the needles because I've already stumbled through my apologies for my herd to find veins. So she distracts me with small talk. Where do i live? I tell her. She looks worried for me. Tells me that it used to be a nice neighborhood before white people took it over and she warns me like she's my own mother to be careful because they aren't safe. I doublecheck the skin she's putting a needle into. Whatever she sees isn't white. I love her for it. For a moment I belong there with her. She doesn't ask what I am or where i'm from, but she knows what i'm not. I'm the only one keeping the holidays with my family. We celebrate Passover because I go home to my fathers and cook the dinner and print out the Haggadah and lead the Seder to the tune of my drunk catholic stepmother eating my food and telling me i'll never be a jew. She's more of a jew than I'll ever be because she grew up in a jewish neighborhood and her friends were all jews and she married a jew and i was just playing pretend. I stopped going home for holidays and they stopped observing anything except Christmas. I marry a goy. "Is he a jew?" is the first thing my father asks and he's disappointed when i say no. He's abusive, i run. I end up living in the attic of this older old money WASP couple who need a live in house sitter. They're pillars of their church and they know someone from the WASP side of my family very well and its a funny coincidence and they think i belong there. I know from their divest from Israel bumper stickers that i don't. Then they find out I consider myself Jewish and i see the light in their eyes die and its replaced by something hard and disappointed. Now, while writing this, i can laugh about being the jew in someone's attic. But then, it was only a few months after that they started coming up with excuses for why I needed to move out. I did, their excuses never manifested into reality. I got married again. A jew this time! a Jewish medical professional liek grandma always wanted. She's a convert and her ex was a rabbinical student. I think maybe i'm home finally. She has to understand. I'm not Jewish enough for her. We don't keep holidays at home because i'm not a jew. I cry every year when pesach comes and goes and i haven't recited the plagues or eaten matzo piled high with horseradish. She insists on putting up a christmas tree. She turns abusive. I run.

I'm alone now and no longer in that magic jewish city. I'm far away and surrounded by mega churches and cows and the bagels suck and people quote the bible at me like some call and response that i don't have the cheat code for and I don't belong here at all but i'm finally finally free to light my menorah and recite the plagues and study torah with the group i found here on tumblr who love and accept me even though i'm patrilineal. Oct. 7th happened a few weeks after I moved here. I worry about my family back home and i think no one will look for Jews here among the cows and mega churches, so I can be a safe place for them to run if things get bad again. But i still don't fit in here. I don't look right. The last name I have now is common here and too white for whatever people see when they look in my face. I get interrogated about it a lot. But i learned quickly how to smile and say "have a blessed day". I hide my menorah when maintenance comes to work on my apartment. I flew home last month. Just for a visit. I've never been away from home this far or this long. And I'm the type that covers nerves and anxiety with chattiness, so at the airport i made a for-now-friend while we both waited for the plane to board. She's Puerto Rican. We talk about our lives. Our families. Her twin sister and i go by the same nickname and so we're family now. We talk about food. So much food and how much we love cooking and how important food was at home. "Are you Italian?" she asks as we're stepping through the hatch into the plane. Why always Italian? I wonder for the millionth time in my life. And I freeze up for a moment between fighting my carry-on over the gap and terror that I'm about to see the light go out behind her eyes and i'll lose this for-now friend. "No," i laugh but its not a real laugh and i see the concern in her face as we squeeze through the aisle because she can hear the apprehension in my voice, "I'm Jewish." And something strange happened because her face lit up and she smiled and said "No way?! You guys have GREAT food!"

[tarjapearce]

I need to know how ranchero Miguel convinced the parents to let him marry their daughter. Was it a shotgun wedding? 👀

Indeed 👀. Bit of Drama and slight angst under the cut.

-------

You had woken up nauseous and dizzy, for the third time in a row. Your mother was concerned. Had something made you sick? She was stricter with the kitchen staff to be more careful. But upon the wafting smell of your usual morning soup, an egg drop soup, entered your room, you retched on the bathroom, again.

You paled.

When was the last time your period came? It was hard to keep tabs when you were trying to attend other business and try to not die in the process. Two months and counting. You barely had the chance of seeing Miguel as well, since he had his own good share of work in the barn.

And he was the last and only man you have been with. Your hands went around your tummy and tears were in the verge of spilling. You were pregnant.

God, you were so scared. You knew how your parents thought of him, and for all you knew, they still thought you were pure.

But as things were going sooner or later They'd find out, probably kick him out and you'd be forced to marry a guy that looked like him to make pass the child as his. The thought scared you shitless, so you washed your mouth, bathed, got dressed and went to him.

He was talking with the foreman of another estate, but excused himself upon seeing you.

His smile faltered when you approached, solemn look, and red nose by the constant sniffling.

"Hey, hey. Come here. ¿Qué le pasa a mi chula?" (What's wrong with you, gorgeous?)

You whimpered and buried your face in his chest. He held you tightly.

"You mom got you on another date?" He rolled his eyes and you shook your head.

"Your dad tried to sell Luis again?" Another shake of your head.

"Then what is it? You gotta tell me,princesa."

"I..." You hiccuped, "I think I'm pregnant."

You could feel him tense and he made you look at him. You thought he'd be angry but the shine in his eyes proved you otherwise.

"¿Voy a ser papá?" He questioned with a excited yet strained voice. You just stared at him and he kissed you, deeply (Am I gonna be a dad?)

"¡Me vas a hacer papá!" (You're making me a dad!)

He was happy and you broke down.

"Why are you crying? Aren't you excited?"

"I am but... Dad will kick you out and... and.. -" You hiccuped and he just held you with a smile.

" Ps, que me eche. I've got my own home anyways. And if... things get bad, you'll come with me. Okay?" He squeezed you tightly and grunted happily, "Dios te vas a ver preciosa con esa panza toda grandota y redonda. Te voy a cuidar, vas a ser mi reina. Ya vas a ver."

(He can do that.) (God, you'll look gorgeous with that big and round belly. Imma take care of you, you'll be my queen. You'll see.)

He just kept rambling things you couldn't understand, but seeing him giddy made your aching heart to relax.

"I'll talk to him. I... Le voy a pedir tu mano." (Imma ask him your hand in marriage)

"W-What? are you sure of it? I mean, I don't want you getting hurt. He might look like an old man but... he knows his tricks.

"Your mother is the one that I'm concerned about."

And he was right.

"ABSOLUTELY NO." She had protested, the staff had been hiding behind the doors, listening to the scene unfold.

"How dare you asking for such thing!"

"Mom-"

"No. Who do you think you are?! Of course you won't marry her! She's set for better things!"

Miguel's eyes narrowed and your heart stopped with sudden rage.

"I want him!" You stood up, stomping your hands on the table.

"I'm old enough to decide on my own, Mom. I... I love Miguel." With every word that spilled from your mouth, she held her heart as your dad just pinched his nose bridge. He had been silent the whole talk, just glaring holes at Miguel.

"Good lord... Just... Imagine the scandal, the people... What would they say about you?! About us?!"

"They already talk shit under our nose, mom. Their opinion is irrelevant. None really approaches us if it's not for a favor."

"You... you brat!"

"I'm pregnant."

Miguel stood to calm you down as the fight kept rising. Your dad immediately straightened up and looked at Miguel.

"You." His voice venomous, but calm, "And you." He pointed at you.

"Tomorrow at church. 8 am."

"You can't be serious! You'll wed them?!

"Your yelling won't make her less pregnant. And I rather have them wedded than having an off marriage child. A sin." Your dad mumbled and looked at you, your rage seemed to be consuming you by how they spoke of your future child. Miguel's expression hardened, a low growl emanating from him.

"Once you're married, I want you both out of my property, got it?"

"Fine! I didn't want to spent my life being a fucking trophy wife for some rich man I barely know."

You were wedded, and despite your dad underlying sadness, and he wanting to swallow his words back, pride didn't allow him to speak and ask you to stay. Your mother didn't even look at your way.

Miguel had packed your things and put them on his truck. You left to a new life with him and your future family.

[winterarmyy]

Random fluffy blurb of Bucky helping the reader with her breast-pumping routine.

i have never been pregnant so i'm sorry for the incorrect terminology and such but...

Hear me out, like, she supposed to breast pump her milk like every couple of hours which means she needs to wake up in the middle of the night too.

But that ain't happening today when her precious 3 months old baby caught a fever and has been crying all day, feeling discomfort and unable to sleep. To make it worst, Bucky's not there to help. He was supposed to be home yesterday, but he was on a mission and the jet he flew on had some kind of technical issues.

Now, he was stuck in somewhere in Europe.

As a new mom, she was still clumsy and unfamiliar with taking care of a baby. Much less a sick one at that. She had been anxious the whole day, worrying if what she was doing was helping the baby at all. When the her precious little one keeps wailing on and on, she couldn't help but to cry as well. She felt helpless; somehow incompetent.

Bucky on the other hand, begs to differ, and he keeps on reassuring her through their video call. Saying that she's doing great and that he was proud of her for holding her grounds so well.

He promised that he'll be home soon.

And soon it was, when Bucky quietly slipped into their apartment at around 2am in the morning. Judging how calm it was, he assumed that his wife and baby was asleep.

So, he took the liberty to clean up for a bit. He could see the traces of chaos and panic left behind from y/n's attempt to take care of the baby; it made Bucky wished that he had never gone to the mission.

After tossing the dirty baby clothes in the washing machine, putting away the half eaten sandwich, and propped the dishes in the dishwasher, he decided to check on y/n first before visiting his poor, sick baby.

But turns out he didn't have to; not when he saw his little bundle was joy sleeping on his bed with y/n curled soundly beside her. His two best girls. Bucky's chest swelled with utter joy and indescribable pride just by looking at them.

While he revelled at the view, the light popped up from the screen of y/n's phone caught his attention. It was an alarm to remind herself to pump her milk. Good thing, Bucky managed to slide the alarm off before the sound become louder, or else the baby will wake up for sure.

Sometimes, Bucky thinks that his little one seemed to get his super soldier hearing ability from him; even though Banner debunked his speculations with the DNA test results that stated that his baby did not have, not even a drop of the super serum, in her blood.

Good thing that Bucky had showered and cleaned up before he flew home. He just had to stripped into his sleepwear and went straight to plant multiple of light kisses on his daughter's chubby cheeks and tiny hands. Satisfied, he made his way around and out to grab the breast pump kit. He placed it on the night stand next to y/n's side and started to prepare it.

Though he was planning not to wake y/n up and help her with the pumping, it was as if her body remembered the schedule. She stirred even before Bucky touched her and her eyes squinted upon awaken.

"Hey, sweetheart." Bucky whispered lovingly. He took the opportunity of her moving around, to lift her up a little, just enough for him slip behind her on the bed. She whined and hummed as he positioned her body to lay on him as his back leaned his back to the headboard.

Bucky firmly pull her back against his chest when she spoke, "Hi, Bucky. When did you get home?" Her voice was hoarse, but quiet enough to make it sound soft.

Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, slighty squeezing her when he kissed her cheek, "Just now." His lips travelled to her jaw, "I missed you so much, doll. And our baby." She smiled before replying that they missed him too.

Relishing in his pampering touch, she let out a sigh before declaring that she has to get up. Bucky didn't budge at all, let alone letting her move. She claimed that she needed to pump her milk, since she barely got to do it today; but, if her eyes was not as heavy as they were, she would've see that Bucky had it all prepared.

Her heart burst with appreciation as she thanked him; she wondered what has she done to deserve such a thoughtful husband; preparing her breast pump kit so she didn't have to leave the bed and all. But what she didn't know was Bucky didn't even want her to lift a finger.

"I got you, mama." He whispered as his fingers traces the button of her pyjama shirt. He popped it off one by one, slowly revealing her covered chest while his mouth never stopped spewing the sweetest things in her ears.

He undid the front hook of her bra, letting her soft heavy breasts spill out of it's confinement. She let out a shuddered moan when his hand went up and gave a gentle squeeze on boobs. Bucky chuckled lovingly when she almost gasped when he rolled her nipples in between his fingers.

After getting an annoyed growl from her, Bucky swiftly went back to his original objective as he placed the cups on each side of nipples and let the machine do its thing.

And after such a long day of self-induced stress, y/n simply melts into a puddle of pleasure and relief as her husband pampered her with praises and gentle kisses.

"Thank you, sweetheart. For giving birth to our baby, for taking care of her."

"You're such a good mama."

"I couldn't ask for more."

"I'm so proud of you."

Every kiss felt as if Bucky was kissing something so delicate and precious; his soft lips travelled from the back of her ear, along her neckline, her shoulders and back again to the crook of her neck.

She leaned back to get closer, even if there was no space in between them, wanting more of his lips, his touch. Wait. Why is he not wrapping his arms around her? She peeked down to see both of his hands were occupied on holding the pumps, "Y'know Bucky, you don't need to hold it all the time." She reminded him.

He was well aware that there was a bra that can hold the cups in place but he refused to use it.

First of all, he loves her boobs.

They're absolutely fantastic, absoultely phenomenal. So why would he want to let the bra be the cockblocker from letting him see them?

And, he also knew that she hates to wear bras, the only reason she wears them now were mostly because her milk keeps leaking out. So any chance to have her boobs out, Bucky would take it. Besides, he absolutely has plans to do after he finished pumping her.

"I know, mama. But, this is easier." He said.

y/n titled her head back to peek a look at her husband, "Easier?"

Bucky's lips curved into his signature smirk before he hummed, "Yes. Easier for daddy suck on your sweet nipples later."

And i---

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head. 

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today." 

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you." 

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow." 

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping." 

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos. 

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you. 

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful." 

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower. 

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks. 

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it. 

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously. 

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me." 

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh. 

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently. 

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep. 

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly. 

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne." 

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General. 

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants. 

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?" 

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg. 

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened. 

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly." 

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek. 

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up." 

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise. 

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers? 

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan. 

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.  

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say. 

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again. 

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying. 

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say. 

"He sounds like you." 

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle. 

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists. 

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of. 

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry." 

"You think so?" you ask. 

"I think the solution is the same, too." 

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry." 

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean. 

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question). 

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in. 

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms? 

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more. 

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably. 

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm. 

You hesitate. "Are you okay?" 

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?" 

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts. 

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately. 

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever." 

"What do you think?" you ask softly. 

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious. 

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days." 

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?" 

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?" 

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast." 

"I can wait." 

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?" 

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me." 

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork. 

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it. 

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough. 

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird." 

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it." 

"It's a mess?" you ask. 

"It's perfect." 

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully. 

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing. 

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips. 

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly. 

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me." 

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more. 

"He's… I'm just not…" 

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth." 

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble. 

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–" 

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face. 

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind." 

"But he is perfect," you say. 

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–" 

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion." 

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek. 

"My dork," you murmur. 

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey." 

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility." 

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too." 

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!

[bokettochild]

I cannot BELIEVE no one told me we had an update!!!!!

Anyways, here's my favorite bits as always, because I need to SCREAM about this one!

The rupee acquisition!

I love how JoJo included that traditional *item acquired* pose that all the Links do, and gave it a reason in the comic (Wind insisting he hold it up is just so fun)

Sky's comment though, "don't spend it all in one place". Isn't that a line you get in Skord when you acquire rupees? The cute little easter eggs here are so fun!

I also really love how Legend is taking an instructional role here, both with Wars and the champion!

While also letting his veteran show

and I love that the rest recognize that! Wild calling Legend "an expert" and actually listening to what he has to say, even if he doesn't agree with it.

I also super like the panels of Twilight's interaction with Legend here

Very eldest and middle sibling discussing the youngest child, and I love it. It reminds us that, even for all the cuteness we got between them in the last arc, Twilight still sees Legend as too rough around the edges, enough that it borders on bullying when it comes to some of the rest, and he's trying to curb that. And Legend is LISTENING, because (as I've said a thousand times) Legend respects Twilight and values his opinion. Twilight is his big brother too now and Legend, while still being himself, genuinely seems to care about his opinion.

Twilight's just tense in general, although why, I think is mostly because of Time's sharp scolding in the last update. Even though he's snapping back at the younger ones, he's not very happy to be snapped at right now, and he's eager to get out from under Time's watchful eye.

Time and Warriors

Because while he feels e has grounds to correct Legend for telling Wild what to do, Warriors straight up subtly scolding his protege is different. And the difference is that Legend and Wild and Twi had camaraderie (see Dawn p.3), they're brothers, but Wars is approaching this as a commander, a captain, and Twi doesn't appreciate that. Warriors isn't their leader though, but he's taking that role anyways. (Old habits die hard, I'm sure)

I mean, we all knew Wars was going to confront Wild sooner or later, but I'm glad he was so calm about it. Twilight's ruffled feathers (fur) is more from Time being overbearing, I believe, so it aggravates any slight annoyance Warriors might present.

Even despite some of our suspicions earlier, I like this bit here. Wild was a soldier once, and the captain is very much the image of what he would have worked with before. JoJo mentioned wanting to play with that dynamic, with them bothering having military background, and I think this is that training (hundred years ago though it was) kicking in and making the champion defer to the man who outranks him (as far as they know). Granted, they all call Wars "Captain" but this felt pointed.

I do love Four acting as the word of wisdom here, advising Time, just like he does Twilight, as to the best way to handle a team. it's a reminder that he's done this before, and he knows how teamwork can be, but also that sometimes you need space and working together means working in different areas.

Anyways, here's a couple bonus things that make me happy!

Bunny stance!

(shh, I know he's making a point by stepping on Wild's toes, let me have this)

Wars being so freaking pretty! Dear Hylia help me! (Is it wrong I understand Cia a bit now?)

Wind being the youngest sibling who is Done With Your Chatter

A competent boy being competent (and not as experienced as Ledge, but pretty darn close (if you've played both their games you know))

Showing off items! (I can hear the little ✨da nana na✨)

And of course, I love Time being a tired, overprotective parent (he looks like my mom here, good grief!)

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

[checosbluespring]

finally → ln4

lando norris x plus size!fem reader

genre: best friends to lovers

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), slight angst, slight dom lando, slight dirty talk, pls let me know if I am forgetting anything

word count: 4.9k

sidenote: hi everyone! this is my first fanfic that I have ever written so please excuse if its not the best, I hope to get better with time. I want to take requests so if ya'll have any lmk! this is also not beta read, sorry if there are little mistakes. I also tried to not make the reader self deprecating but insecurities are a thing so it was a bit hard to find a balance.

♡♡♡♡

You and Lando had been friends for as long as you could remember. It was a crucial part of your weekends growing up hoping in the car with his family and watching his karting tournaments. You knew from a very young age Lando would be one of the greats, he would make it to f1. That always scared you, not because you didn't want him to achieve his dreams but because you were scared of losing him. But throughout your friendship he had stayed loyal to you. 

Growing up, it was like Lando was your protector, he still kinda is to be honest. You were a big girl, there was no hiding it. Now that you are older, you’ve began to love and accept your body, but it took a lot of practice. So much so that even Lando has had his fair share of putting his two cents in. He was never embarrassed of you or tried to hide you away, even as he got more popular. 

You remember when you were around 15, you were sitting in the stands next to his mom when you overheard some of the other drivers' friends talk about you.

 “God how is he not embarrassed to be hanging out with someone who looks like her” and so on. You had felt mortified that day, you went home and cried to your mom. When the next weekend came you made up an excuse why you couldn't go and the same went on for the next couple of weekends until Lando showed up at your doorstep. 

“You're ignoring me, and don't say you aren't” said a pouty 15 year old Lando. “I'm not ignoring you, Lando, just maybe it's best if I don't go to all your karting tournaments”. You immediately regret what came out of your mouth because the last thing you ever wanted was to make Lando feel like you have, less than. 

“Who are you to decide what's best and what isn't?” you weren't used to this type of Lando, he never got mad at you or raised his voice. Being the emotional teenager you were, tears welled in your eyes and a few strayed away down your cheeks. Suddenly Lando grabbed you and pulled you into a hug. You have always been bigger than him but shorter as well. You felt small in his embrace. Even if in the back of your head you knew that was a lie.  “What happened y/n, tell me so I can make this better”

“ I don't want to embarrass you” you said into his chest. “embarrass me how?”. 

“I overheard some of the other driver's friends talking about me and my weight, and they are right, I don't want to embarrass you, racing is your life, Lando, I can’t ruin that”.

 You felt his chest rise and fall. “Tell me who told you that, now” he said in a cold distant tone, Lando never got angry, except on the track. “No I'm not going to tell you, because I don’t need you getting in trouble”. He looked a bit deflated after you refused to tell him but he continued to talk.

 “Y/n listen to me, you are one of the best things to happen to me, your weight has and will not ever matter to me. The fact that you think it would tells me that I haven’t been doing a good enough job at showing you how much you mean to me. Racing these past weekends without you have been hell, i need you, you are my best friend” the friend part rings in your ears. You realize that’s what you’ll only ever be to him - a friend. Even if you desperately wanted more.

Things get a lot better after that. You got to his tournaments loud and proud, and now 9 years later you are still doing the same. The problem is that you are still desperately in love with your best friend. Having to see Lando date girls who looked nothing like you made you feel a pit in your stomach. You knew you never had a chance with him, but it hurt so bad. The kind of hurt that made you want to cry and throw up. You couldn’t lose him though, so you played the role as his bigger best friend, that he just couldn’t shake off.

Lando once called you his good luck charm, saying that race weekends where you weren’t in the grandstands were ten times harder. Once he made it to formula 1  it made it harder to go to all his races, but you tried. Even when Lando would have his girlfriends you were still there, sitting right next to them. If people knew how you felt, they would pity you. That’s why you knew it was time to try and find a boyfriend, you couldn’t pine after Lando for the rest of your life, even if your heart wanted to. 

As you’ve gotten older you’ve learned to love and embrace your body. You know you looked good when you put on a dress that showed your thick thighs. Every race weekend you are dressed to the nines, make up, hair, everything done. You do this for yourself but also because you want to look good for Lando even if you tell yourself that’s not the reason. 

It wasn’t until this year you finally started taking dating seriously. At Silverstone this year, Lando had given you paddock tickets. You always tried to deny them by saying it was important that his family had paddock tickets but he insisted. This is when you met Mark, one of mclarens engineers. He was sweet, funny enough, tall, cute, everything a girl could want, but he wasn’t Lando. You followed him though on instagram because you told yourself you were not gonna pine over Lando this year, you were gonna find a partner who loved and supported you. 

It didn’t take long before Lando had found out that you were following each other. Asking curious questions “hey how do you and mark know each other?” He questioned. “oh we met at silver stone and he asked to follow” in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have told him that because he proceeds to tell you how Mark is a terrible person, boring, mean all of the above. A part of you knew Lando was lying but you wouldn’t jeopardize his career by dating one of his race engineers.

It’s race weekend in Austin and you were able to fly out and watch Lando race. He had an amazing race, to celebrate he wanted to go clubbing which was a rare occasion after his DJing side career. You looked in the mirror before you left your room and you looked so good. Your dress showed off all your features and your makeup looked great. You weren’t the type for one night stands but you were gonna find someone tonight.

After arriving at the club with Lando and his friends you found yourself alone at the bar. Lando was a popular person and you don't need his attention constantly. You took this opportunity to look cute and hopefully approachable. It wasn't long before a guy had offered to buy you a drink, and another one, and another one. After your third vodka cranberry you had started to feel tipsy but you were still fully aware of your surroundings so when the handsome guy in front of you pulled you on the dance floor you obliged.

You felt good and it was rare you ever let yourself go like this. The club started playing Spanish music and you found yourself grinding on this stranger. Your body felt flushed, like you needed to be touched and this random man was doing the trick. His hand gripped tightly on your hips and his head placed between the junction of your neck and shoulder placing hungry kisses. Just as you are about to suggest you guys get out of here, a pair of strong hands pulls you out of the man's grip. “Come on y/n where are leaving, the cars are here” Lando whispered in your ear, you couldn’t quite place his tone. 

“It’s okay Lando, you go ahead I’ll meet you guys there” you said hoping he got the hint but of course he didn’t. “No i'm not leaving you alone with this guy, come on let’s go” he said, slightly tugging at you. The random guy, whose name you still don’t know, steps in,  “dude she doesn’t want to go, let her stay with me”. You see something shift in Lando, something possessive? “Mate she’s mine so I suggest backing the fuck off”. 

That sobered you up real quick. Instead of feeling happy he called you his, you were fueming. He had no right to do that, he wants to cockblock you and for what. At this point you walk past them and head towards the exit, it’s not long before Lando is at your side in the car trying to talk to you. “Y/n I’m sorry, talk to me”, you don’t, you ignore him the entire way back to the hotel. You let tears fall down your face because all you wanted was to have a random hookup, something that you could leave back in the states and forget about, someone that you didn’t have to worry about his opinion on your weight afterwards. But Lando went and did this and you don’t know why.

He followed you to your hotel room and you finally let him have it. “ How dare you do that, you had no right to do that Lando” he opens his mouth to say something but you stop him. “ No, let me talk, I just wanted one night where I could be with a guy carefree and not have to worry about what others thought, Lando I’m a grown adult I don’t need you to save me, you don’t understand what it’s like to be like me. I love you Lando but I can’t keep myself available forever hoping and waiting that you’ll finally love me ". That last part wasn’t meant to come out but you were so mad at him you didn’t care. 

You see a shift in his face. “You can’t say I’m yours when I’m not, because I never have been, the girls that are yours don’t look like me Lando. And I’ve accepted that because I love you and will always support you, even if it feels like there is a knife digging in my chest every time I see you with a new girl”. Tears again are welling in your eyes but you are doing your best not to let them fall. 

“I love you Lando but I can’t be your friend if you don’t let me go, you can’t keep stringing me along as your best friend who acts like your girlfriend, do you know how pathetic I look next to your past girlfriends, pining after you. I was the one who made sure you were prepared before every race, I  was the one who stayed up late picking you up from clubs, I was the one who held your neck up after your first F1 race because it hurt so bad. Not once did I ever ask for something in return because you are my best friend and I love you, but Lando I’m begging you, I can’t be alone forever you need to let me try and be with someone. You mean the world to me Lando and I need you in my life, but I can’t go on like this” he looked stunned. But found the words he wanted to say.

“Can i talk now y/n” he looked angry, you nodded. “Not once have I ever forced you to be there for me, but I know you were there because you cared for me and I care for you too, even though you think I don’t. But not once have I ever wanted you to feel pity or pathetic, y/n you are the most important woman in my life besides my mom and sisters but you mean everything to me and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. Seeing you with that guy made me physically sick, not because of how you guys looked, god y/n you looked so good tonight but he was grabbing on you and touching you, but I knew I couldn’t be mad because he was doing what I have been wanting to do for years, he just had the balls to do it, oh my god I can’t believe you thought I would ever think of you like that, y/n I’m in love with you and I have been for years, I was just too much of a coward to show it, I want you to be mine” 

In that moment everything seemed like it would be okay, you didn’t think about what the press would think or his other friends, all that mattered was him. You nodded. “Lando that’s all I’ve ever wanted was to be yours” before you knew it he was walking towards you and placing you in a firm kiss. 

You have had your fair share of kisses but none of them like this, this kiss made your knees weak, it made you want to crumble to the ground. He moved his hand from your cheeks down to your waist giving them a hard squeeze, sending shocks of pleasure down your pelvic area. 

You both pull away panting when he places his forehead on yours, “you don’t know how mad I got when he was touching you, the way you let him grind up on you and kiss your neck, I wanted to beat the shit out of him”. You rebuttal by saying “while now you know how I’ve felt for years seeing you with girls, even the ones who talked shit about me, I wanted to fight them all”. 

This seemed to catch Lando by surprise “which ones talked shit about you?” “Babes half of them did, I chalked it up to them being jealous but it didn’t hurt any less”. “Fuck y/n I’m so sorry I never even loved any of them that’s the worst part of it, I was just trying to feel a void in my heart”. You went to hug him, placing your head on his chest. 

“Y/n I’m sorry I was an idiot and it took this long for me to realize my feelings and I’m sorry you got hurt in the process” said Lando

“No don’t apologize, deep down a part of me knew that if we were ever together, it would make things harder for your career, you would get so much hate” 

“Even if it did, I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, no public option would change that” 

Something hot grew inside of you and you crashed your lips to his, you wanted him. He fisted his hand in your hair lightly pulling it, that made you moan into his mouth. You could feel him smirk. Your hands settled under his shirt, mostly because your hands are cold but because you want to feel him. All of a sudden Landos hands traveled their way down your back and settled on your ass, gripping hard he stopped kissing you and whispered, “this ass is mine, don’t forget that”. You gasp and nod, you want nothing more than for Lando to take you right now. 

You slow down your kiss to talk “ Lando I want you so bad” “ I do to baby” with that you start to pull off his shirt showing his toned chest. It’s not like you’ve never seen him shirtless before because you have but this was different. You stare “you like what you see baby?” lando asked in a teasing tone. You bite your lip and nod. 

Lando starts to take your dress off and you panic. You grab his hands, “wait can I keep my dress on”

Lando gives you a look, and you can already tell what's going to come out of his mouth. You want to stop him because he knows you are pretty and your body is pretty but being naked in front of your best friend of 17 plus years is intimate. And it's not that you don't trust him but you can't help but feel the slightest bit insecure. Let's be honest you knew deep down Lando has never been with a girl who looked like you. Lando starts to say “if you want to keep it on you can, I would never pressure you to take it off but I want you to know I think you are the prettiest girl in the world. You don’t know how hot and bothered you would get me showing up to race weekends dressed in short skirts and your tits about to pop out”. In the back of your head you want to keep hearing his vulgar mouth, it does something to you. In response, you nod, slowly taking off your dress. You were left in nothing but your bra and underwear. “Fuck” you hear Lando whisper. Suddenly he’s attacking your neck, leaving harsh kisses.

You feel his stubble, his goatee rubs against the base of your neck. “You look so fucking good y/n, can’t wait to have you wrapped around me” You feel yourself get shy, you’ve thought about this moment a lot and now that it’s finally happening you want to do so much. Lando seems to notice your timidness and asks what’s wrong. “Nothing, I’ve just played this up in my head so much I want to be good for you” you reply. 

“Yeah you want to be my good girl huh? Don’t worry baby I have no doubt in my mind you are going to be amazing and listen to me” you feel yourself falling into a submissive space.

Lando continues to kiss you all while walking you both to the bed and gently laying you down. You have your hands loosely attached around his neck, so him breaking away is no surprise. “Gonna eat you out baby, can I?” Lando asks licking his lips

You nod your head furiously, it’s been forever since the last time you’ve had sex and even longer since someone has gone down on you.

As Lando kisses his way down your body, you feel a flood of wetness starting to pull at your core. Your body felt like it was on fire. “Lift your hips up” he commanded. You listen and do what is asked.

You feel the cool air make contact with your pussy, sending shivers all throughout your body. “You have such a pretty pussy, so wet just for me huh? I bet you taste so good y/n'' Lando speaks in a seductive tone. 

All you can do is let out a strangled whine. Desperate to have his mouth on you. He makes you wait a bit longer, he’s a tease at heart and you knew this. He sends kisses up and down your thighs, your stomach. Finally he places a kiss directly on your clit and proceeds to blow a puff of air. “Please Lando please, I need you” you beg, who knew you would be this far gone. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you” and with that he attaches his lips around your clit sucking lightly. This makes you arch your back and your hands fly into his hair, gripping it tight. It’s almost too much, he notices and starts to lick around your vulva getting you more wet than you already were. 

You are a moaning mess at this point, your hands keep pulling at his hair getting a moan out of him. He looks up at you and asks “gonna stick my fingers in you is that okay” you already feel so fucked out that all you can do is nod dumbly. 

You feel his middle finger slowly sink into your heat. Lando didn’t have the thickest fingers but they were long, you let out a gasp when the single digit sinks in.

Lando continues to suck and lick around your clit. It’s not long before you start to feel a coil tighten in your lower stomach. If he continues to do what he’s doing you know you are going to come within the matter of minutes. It almost makes you sad because if this was a one time thing, you want to come around his cock, to be close with him. You open your mouth to voice your concern “Lando I’m going to come soon, stop, wanna come around your cock” 

He looks up at you, “you can come more than once right? Want you to come all over my face then again on my cock. You can do that right? You can be a good girl for me”. You nod desperately, his words send you further over the edge. You feel his lips engulf your clit and moan sending vibrations throughout your body. He has since added another finger slowly rocking back and forth into you. 

You feel your coil snap and a gush of wetness leaves you. You couldn’t even announce that you were coming but Lando got the gist. But he wanted to be a little bastard and play rough. He continued to suck and lick around your bundle of nerves, despite you being sensitive from your orgasm. You whine and try to close your legs around his head. But he only forces them open with his hand. 

“Lan please, I want your cock, wanna come again” you hear yourself slur your words. You don’t care at this point because all you want is to feel his body flush against yours. 

“How can I say no to you, pretty girl” when Lando  comes face to face with you, you see how slick and wet his mouth and chin is. Something primal takes over you and you grab him roughly kissing and licking into his mouth. Lando moans into it and says “you like tasting yourself on me huh? You are so fucking dirty, who knew my best friend and the girl I am in love with would have such a nasty fucking mouth and like such dirty things”.

You can’t even bring yourself to reply because all you want right now is to have his cock in you.  You settle for a nod and slowly bring your hands down to his boxers and begin to pull. At some point when you can’t pull them off anymore, he takes over and does it. His cock springs out and all you can do is stare at it. 

You are a bit ashamed to say you had imagined what it looked like, but the real thing was 10 times better than what you could ever imagine. He was average in length, but thick and curved to the right slightly. He was well groomed just like you knew he would be. Your mouth watered at the sight, if you weren’t in such a hurry to have him in you, you could sit with him in your mouth for hours. You want to touch so you bring your hand to wrap around the base of his cock. 

The first drag up there is a little resistance because he is dry, so you reach down and grab some of your wetness and lubricate him up. This makes the motion go much smoother. When he sees you do this, he moans. “Fuck y/n you are so hot, I can’t believe we waited this long to do something. I need to be with you”. 

You want him to go bare but as much as you love Lando you know you both should be tested before you do it. “Condom?” You manage to croak out. He nods and hops over to his jeans and fishes one out of his wallet. You want to make fun of him for having one stashed away there but you let it slide. While he's doing this you pull off your bra, hoping to surprise him.

As he comes back to the bed his eyes are wide. “You have the prettiest tits y/n, they drive me crazy, I felt like such a perv getting hard in my fireproof seeing you in the paddock, talking away. You had no idea huh? No idea that you made me feel this way” he questioned

You shake your head no in response.

As he’s in front of you, you see him roll the condom over his shaft. This is really happening. “I want to see your face when you come, can we stay like this?” Lando questions. “Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way” you say in a soft tone. 

He slowly starts to enter you. The stretch is tight, it burns in the slightest. It feels like the air is being punched out of you. It’s been a while since you’ve had anyone in you so the burn is to be expected, but it’s not unwelcome. You grab Landos arm for support, he notices your discomfort. “Do you want me to stop, baby? You are so tight, you feel so good”. You shake your head, that’s the last thing you want. 

“No, just been a while since I’ve had anything in me, you are so thick just give me a minute to adjust” you say

“Of course, take your time” Lando says while kissing your neck, it helps distract you from the pain. He’s fully in now, it’s just a matter of when you are ready to let him move. You let your body adjust for about a minute when you say “you can move”.

Lando slowly starts to rock back and forth in you. The burn is still there but it’s a delicious kind of sensation. Something you feel like you could get addicted to. You look between your bodies and see your stomach. For once you like the contrast of how your bodies look together. Only Lando could ever make you feel this way, you were sure of it. 

You feel Lando breathing heavily into your neck, soft moans slipping out every so often. You can’t wait to do more with him. One particular trust has you clenching around him, he lifts his head and says “fuck you feel so good around me, like you were made for me y/n, you pull me in so good” 

This almost brings tears to your eyes, for so long you had been there for him, helped him through thick and thin and he’s always been grateful but his praise is making you melt, pushing you closer to the edge. 

Your hands are currently at his back slightly clawing away, you know you couldn’t leave marks but you needed something to grab on to. You felt so full, you knew in a matter of minutes you were gonna come around him. “I feel like i'm gonna come soon” you say. “Same, you feel to good around me I can’t hold it off much longer”

He reaches between your bodies and starts to rub your clit, slowly in circular motions. This sends a shot of pleasure through your body as a reaction you wrap your legs around him.

Suddenly he pulls all the way out and you begin to whine but he slams all the way back in. You moan at the abrupt roughness. He moves back and forth with vigor, determined to get you both off at the same time. 

“I'm gonna come” you say when you feel pleasure finally reaching its highpoint. You are clenching, you can feel it. Only seconds later Lando mumbles in your ear that he's reached his high as well. Taking a moment before he pulls out he kisses you all over, your cheeks, forehead, lips. You don't want to let him go but you know you need to go pee and he needs to take his condom off. 

When you both return to bed you nestle your face into his neck, his scruff scratching the side of your head. There was no other place in this world you would rather be than in his arms, and yeah that may sound dramatic but he was everything you wanted. 

He looked down at you with the warmest eyes. “You are amazing, you know that. If it wasn’t clear before, I want it all with you. You are everything y/n and it’s time for me to start showing you how much I love you and appreciate you. If you’re in, I’m in” 

“Of course I’m in you muppet” 

You bring your lips to his for a soft peck. For once in the 17 years of your friendship, everything seemed to finally feel like it was going to be okay, and you couldn’t wait for the wild adventure it would be to be Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

[queenpiranhadon]

Hey hey

I wanted to request a dad aizawa x singer daughter :))

She is his only and biological daughter and wanted since she was little to become a singer and musician but never told Aizawa becase she thought he would told her to become a hero, and one day he finds her singing and playing an dificult instrumen.

Thankss

A/N: HIII IM SORRY THIS MIGHT BE KINDA BAD BC I HAVENT HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH MY DAD IN A WHILE LOLLL Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): reader uses she/her pronouns, slight cursing, inaccurate Japanese translations lol, violin terms bc I'm a violinist :), reader's biological mom is dead, Aizawa became a dad at 19 - he's like 34 in this jsyk, reader's 15-16 yrs old, mentions of being disowned, fluff, mentions of depression and death, Kae makes a really bad pun, hime means princess in Japanese

Pairing(s): Shota Aizawa x daughter f!reader (PLATONIC)

Link to the song in this fic~

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴍᴀᴛꜱᴜʀɪ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

“Goddamnit!” you groan, as you fiddle with your violin. (LMAO PUN!! sorry) 

Your fingers ached, as you tried to nail down the pizzicato run at the top of the page. However, your fingers refused to move with the fluency they used you, and you felt the calluses starting to develop on the surface of your fingertips. 

Self-teaching yourself to play the violin was a pain in the ass, but you were determined to go to a performing arts school once you graduated junior high. 

The only problem? 

Your father was Shota Aizawa, underground pro hero Eraser Head, and was not only a pro, but also a teacher at UA High School- one of the top schools for pro heroes in training. 

You loved your father to the ends of the earth, as he did you, considering your small family only consisted of the two of you, your mother having died during childbirth. Aizawa, only 19 at the time, struggled with the loss of his lover, but you helped him get through it. 

You were his pride and joy, the perfect combination of his love and himself, his precious daughter. 

Nothing you could do could make him hate you. 

And you knew that, but your insecurities were bigger. 

What if he wanted you to become a pro hero like him? 

In all honesty, you didn’t see that future for yourself. It was an honorable job, one that you knew was very important, and a job many children wished to have in the future, and yet, that was never your dream. 

Pro heroes went out every day, fighting with their lives on the line, patrols constantly, dealing with paparazzi, not to mention the

paperwork

. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t ambitionless, no, certainly not, but it wasn’t something you found passion in. 

But to be fair, if you were successful in your career path, there would sure be a lot of paparazzi either way. 

You were set on following a path into the performing arts, but it was always a little disheartening whenever you heard your Uncle Hizashi or Auntie Nemuri go “Awww Y/N! You’re going to be an amazing pro hero when you’re older, so kind and so determined” 

You knew they meant well, but still. 

Sighing you set down your violin, gently setting it down in your case and safely securing you bow in before tucking it underneath your bed. That’s where most of your instrumental arsenal lived, all compact and tucked away, awaiting your every musical whim. 

You worked tirelessly to earn enough money for each of your instruments for the past two years, combing through online marketplaces and sales to find decently priced quality instruments. 

Grabbing your keyboard and setting it up, your fingers find their way to ivory keys that played a sequence you knew well. 

The notes left your fingers immediately, music filling your bedroom walls as a stream of tunes flow like a waterfall, smooth and connected, and yet, somehow still intense in its own way. 

Music is a form of communication, you always thought. The right notes paired together convey moods, thoughts, feelings. It always amazed you how something as simple as sequential pitches could convey something words never could. 

Ai shika kanjitaku mo nai (I don't want to feel anything but love) you sang, letting yourself get lost in the music. 

Mou nan no wakehedate mo na (There's no difference anymore)

Matomete kakatte kinasai (Please call all at once)

Ima nara subete uketomeru kara (I'll accept everything now)

~

You finish the song with a resounding chord, the room eerily quiet without any music flowing through it, until a slow clap breaks the silence. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

You jump in surprise, scrambling away from the keyboard to see your father standing in the doorway of your room, the look on his face unreadable. 

You turn bright red and feel your heart sink. 

You never told your father about your dreams and aspirations for the future- what would be say now? 

You steel yourself, taking in a deep breath. 

Calm down, Y/N. He wouldn’t disown you because you don’t want to be a pro. And plus, it’s my life! I should have a say in what I want to do. You think to yourself. 

“Dad, I don’t want to be a pro hero...” you mumble out, refusing to look at him. “I want to be a musician, or a singer! I really like music and it just...really makes me happy.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you think with a sinking heart that he’s furious, but then a chuckle is heard, almost deafening in the silent room. 

“Oh, thank god.” he exhales in relief, leaving you staring at him, dumbfounded. 

“Y-You’re not mad...?” you ask, extremely confused. 

“Oh no, of course not hime - don't even think that. I'm so sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me anything. ” he says, and you’re put at ease. “Everyday, pro heroes go through pain and hardships to try to save the people of this world.” 

He sighs “Many pros lose their sanity and fall into an abyss of depression and despair because it’s too much for them. “he looks at you, his eyes genuine and sincere. “I don’t want that life for you.” 

You hug him, and his arms wrap around you comfortingly. 

“I love you dad.” 

“I love you too, hime.” 

Then he pulls away with a sly grin on his face. “So, you gonna show me what you’ve been working on?” 

Your face flushes and you shove his arm playfully. 

“Dad!”