#infant hair care for black babies

[joemama-2]

┊ ❛ ❛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 ❜ ❜ ┊

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: as an ambitious journalist, you’re determined to keep your cool while interviewing Gojo Satoru, the entertainment world’s most magnetic star. but his playful smirks and flirtatious banter make it impossible to ignore the spark simmering between you. when he leans in and invites you to his private room, you tell yourself it’s all part of the job—until the dressing room door closes, and the air grows heavy with unspoken possibilities. his touch is casual but lingers just long enough to make your pulse race, and his whispered promises are as intoxicating as the man himself. tonight, you’ll learn there’s a difference between getting the story and being part of it.

wc: 9.9k

tags/warnings: smut, slight praise, vaginal penetration, pussy eating, cursing, missionary, nipple sucking

Tonight’s a night of luxury, fine wine, expensive clothing, flashes, kisses being shared, awards handed out, and best of all…the interviews. 

You’re up and coming, still considered a newbie in the world of journalism even though you have been doing this for almost a year now. But compared to your other counterparts who have years of experience, you understand why. A bright, young face with a compelling aura that just draws people in. Every celebrity you’ve met has come up to you afterward to just rave on about how nice it was talking to you, how authentic it felt. And that’s what you aim for all the time. 

At the end of the day, these are real people and a lot of the media seems to forget that. When you’re interviewing them, you don’t want it to seem like a forced meet-up with an intrusive journalist. No, you want it to be like they’re talking to a friend. You want things to just flow smoothly—naturally. You’ve even exchanged numbers with a few of them, waving and delivering a small hug as they pass you on the red carpet to pose for pictures. 

It’s a strategy that’s worked wonders for you, and tonight, you’re counting on it to carry you through what might be the biggest interview of your career. Gojo Satoru, the golden boy of the entertainment industry, is notoriously hard to pin down—charming one moment, evasive the next. The man oozes confidence, with his piercing blue eyes and a devil-may-care attitude that has the world wrapped around his finger. A brilliant actor, dancer, and singer. A literal triple threat. The man is good at everything he does. And he looks damn good while doing it. 

Your editor’s words echo in your head as you adjust your press badge: “Get something different. Something memorable. Everyone’s heard the same old answers from him.” Easier said than done when the man is practically untouchable, his responses carefully curated to keep people guessing. You would’ve assumed his media training would be on point, considering he’s been a household name since he was just an infant. 

A true nepo baby. 

There’s a microphone in hand, your camera man, Ito, stood beside you. You glance at him, having to lean in slightly over the buzz of other chatter, photographers telling whatever celebrity to move right or left, other interviews being conducted, the whole sha-bang. “You ready for this?”

The younger man nods with a goofy smile and throws a thumbs-up. “You know it.”

“Remember, get my good side.”

“Every side is your good side, Ms. Y/N.”

You wave him off and swivel your head back around. Titling it as you lift up on your tip-toes for any sign of the snowy haired man. Nope, not here yet. You sigh and drop back down to normal height, anxiously twirling the microphone in your hand. You’re wearing a simple, but elegant black dress. Silk with no sleeves and the back is cut out—still modest enough to now outshine the real important people of tonight. You’ve paired it with gold jewelry, your hair down and tamed, with tiny black heels. Fine makeup with a red lip to top it off. 

“He’s not here yet. Let me guess,” you murmur to Ito, keeping your voice low. “He’s going to be late, sweep in like he owns the place, and flash that million-dollar smile that makes everyone forget they’ve been waiting.”  

Ito snorts, adjusting the camera. “You mean the Gojo Satoru trademark entrance? Yeah, sounds about right. At least he’s consistent.”  

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of nerves in your chest. You always get nervous but this time, it feels a little extra. He may not even stop for you, don’t get your hopes up.

Gojo’s reputation precedes him, and while you pride yourself on keeping your cool, you’re not immune to his charm. The last thing you need is to fall into the same trap as every other reporter who’s walked away from an interview with stars in their eyes and nothing of substance to show for it. 

Scanning the area, you catch sight of a commotion near the entrance, the buzz growing louder. And then you see him.  

He’s impossible to miss, standing tall and radiant in a custom black suit that hugs him in all the right places, his albino hair tousled just enough to look effortless. His sunglasses—because of course he’s wearing sunglasses to a fancy event—sit perched on the bridge of his nose, only barely hiding those infamous blue eyes. He’s laughing at something someone said, his presence magnetic enough to pull all attention his way without even trying. His manager, Nanami Kento, walks with him. Occasionally muttering something in Satoru’s ear with his certified stony expression. 

“Showtime,” Ito mutters, lifting the camera.  

You take a deep breath, straightening your posture. You got this, you got this. He’s not the only charming one. Plastering a big, warm smile. You begin your stride over, hellbent on capturing his attention. 

He and his manager are walking down the carpet, already ignoring the reporters that call out his name like he’s some sort of god. Satoru occasionally smiles for a few of the cameras as most of the other actors are silently making room for him on the red carpet. Once he’s done with his pictures, he’s heading inside the venue. Then you’ll lose your chance. So, you have to catch him before he does. 

You quicken your pace, moving with purpose. Weaving through the small crowd as Ito is practically stumbling over his feet to follow you. Chin tilting up and raising your voice loud enough so he can hear. “Gojo Satoru, a quick word, please,” you call out, your voice carrying through the crowd, smooth and confident despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

And as if on cue, Gojo’s head turns ever so slightly in your direction. That was quick. Maybe it’s the fact that you reiterated your call out to him as more of a statement than an annoying plea. You don’t hesitate, smiling and judging Ito to begin filming. You can already see the glint of his pearly whites, the blue twinkle in his pearly eyes that makes women and men alike swoon. He lifts his glasses down slightly like he’s getting a better look at you. His manager is tugging a bit on his elbow to keep him moving, but he simply yanks it out his hold and strides over to you with that trademark grin. As he makes his way toward you, every step exuding confidence, you remind yourself of your goal: keep it professional, keep it memorable, and don’t let him get under your skin.  

Some of the other journalists must think they finally have their shot with him, only for their hopes and dreams to be shattered when he approaches you instead. You shuffle closer to him, sparing a quick glance at the camera to ensure it’s rolling before craning your neck up at the man himself. 

“Gojo Satoru,” you greet him, flashing your most practiced smile as he stops in front of you. “Thank you very much for taking the time to chat. How’s your night so far?”  

He tilts his head, the lopsided smile on his face nothing short of mischievous. “Even better now,” he says smoothly, his voice low enough to make your stomach flip.  

Oh, he’s good, you think, your grip tightening on the microphone. But so are you. So, this is how it’s going to be. Fine. You can play that game too. 

You force yourself to focus, keeping the conversation light and breezy despite the electric charge in the air between you. “Glad to hear that. I’m sure you’re used to all the attention by now, but do you ever get nervous before big events like this?” you ask, leaning in slightly as if you’re just two people having a casual chat.

He chuckles, a sound that almost feels too intimate for the public space you’re standing in. “I thrive on it,” Gojo replies, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze both teasing and intense. “You know, it’s all part of the game. The bigger the crowd, the more I shine.”

You smile, impressed by his confidence but careful not to let it throw you off your rhythm. “And yet, you still manage to make it look effortless.” You tilt your head slightly, playing along, knowing how easily the conversation could turn into one of those meaningless exchanges. “Is there anything you don’t do effortlessly?”

His lips quirk upwards, that signature grin spreading across his face. “Maybe one thing,” he says, his tone dipping lower, sending a shiver through you. He pauses, his eyes scanning you briefly before locking back onto yours. “But I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

The air between you two thickens, the words laced with double meaning. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you refuse to let it show. He’s toying with you, but this is your interview, and you’re not about to let him steal the spotlight. Not just yet.

Clearing your throat, you switch the topic. “So, you’re being nominated Best Actor for your show ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the direction you’ve taken. “I wouldn’t say ‘nominated,’” he teases, his eyes sparkling with that signature arrogance. “I’m going to win, obviously. But it’s nice to be recognized by the industry.”

You nod, the banter light, but the tension lingering in the air between you two keeps your mind spinning. You can’t help but wonder if he’s as confident off-screen as he is in front of the cameras. Before you can ask him to elaborate on his confidence, Gojo steps closer, his proximity sending a wave of warmth through you. “So you believe you’ll win this award, no doubt?”

“No doubt.”

“That’s very confident of you.” You chuckle. 

Gojo’s lips curl into a smile, his blue eyes never leaving yours as if he’s savoring the moment. “Confidence is key but also very underrated,” he replies, his tone playful but with an edge of something more intense. He leans in just slightly, enough that you can smell the subtle cologne he’s wearing, clean and fresh with a hint of spice. “Besides,” he adds, his voice dropping lower, “when you’re as good as I am, it’s hard not to be confident. And I mean, a lot of people are too afraid to show they know what they’re capable of. But me? I’ve got nothing to hide. I know exactly what I bring to the table.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to let your smile slip into something more flirtatious. But his words have an effect—something in you shifts, intrigued and undeniably drawn to his arrogance. "So, you don’t think anyone’s competition?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, testing the waters.

Gojo's lips curve tighter into a knowing smile, a flash of teasing flickering in his eyes. "Competition?" he echoes, his voice thick with challenge. "There’s no competition when you’re in a league of your own.”

You swallow, trying to maintain your composure despite the growing heat between you. “I can see that,” you respond, your voice just a little steadier than you feel. “But what’s your secret? How do you manage to stay so… sure of yourself?”

Gojo chuckles, the sound smooth and low, as he runs a hand through his messy white hair. He looks around briefly, as though assessing the situation, before his eyes lock back onto yours. “It’s not about being sure of myself,” he says with a tilt to his tone, his words carrying an underlying promise. “It’s about knowing I can make anything work. Whether it’s acting, dancing, or…” He trails off, his gaze flickering briefly down your figure before snapping back to your eyes. He chuckles charmingly.  

The moment hangs between you two, the air crackling with an undeniable charge. You feel your pulse quicken, but you force yourself to stay focused on the interview. “Well, I’m sure a lot of people would love to know how you make it all look so effortless,” you respond, keeping your voice neutral. “Any advice for those of us who aren’t quite as… naturally gifted?”

Gojo’s grin widens, and for a brief second, you swear you can see a flicker of something more in his eyes. “It’s not just about talent,” he says, leaning in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “It’s about owning the moment, owning the space you’re in. You have to make people believe in you, even if you don’t always believe in yourself.” His intonation is almost hypnotic, and you can feel the pull of his words.

Your breath catches, but you can’t let him see how he’s affecting you. “Sounds like a lot of pressure,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation light. “How do you handle all that weight?”

Gojo’s expression shifts, his playful grin faltering for just a second, his presence overwhelming. “Pressure’s nothing,” he says, his eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. “If you’re not feeling it, you’re not doing it right.”

Before you can respond, the sound of a camera shutter clicks in the background, reminding you of the reality of the situation. You’re still in the middle of a crowded red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and the buzz of other reporters. But somehow, standing so close to him, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the world.

His eyes soften for a moment, like he’s sensing the shift in the air between you. “But hey,” he adds, his tone playful again as he steps back slightly, breaking the moment, “don’t worry. I’ll make sure to win this award for the both of us. Maybe then you can interview me again… under better circumstances.”

You smile, lightly huffing a small chortle as Ito lowers the camera and stops rolling. Nanami begins tugging on Satoru’s sleeve again, attempting to urge the man to walk forward. But Satoru doesn’t budge, leaning down close to your ear. The suddenness causes you to gasp a little, body tensing before leaning closer to hear what he has to say. 

“I have a room nearby. Take a left at the end of the carpet, then a right past the VIP lounge, can’t miss it. If you want, I’d be glad to answer more of your questions once I have my award.”

He’s pulling back and looking away, strutting down the carpet before you can even process what just happened. Eyes wide and lips parted, you slowly look over at Ito who gives you an equally baffled expression. “That was…something. I felt the tension even behind the camera.”

You shake your head and regain your bearings, hitting his arm. He dramatically lets out a huff and rubs the spot. “Don’t be stupid, that’s just how he is.”

“Well, yeah. But it seemed extra with you.”

Your lips purse, eyes flickering over to where an enormous space has been made for the man himself to pose for every single camera aimed at him in every pose possible. If you didn’t find him attractive, you would’ve been annoyed by his arrogance—his cockiness. But maybe that’s what you like about him, in some weird way. At least he has the looks to go with his loud personality. “Are you gonna…go?” Ino asks. 

You hesitate, unsure of whether yes or no would be the most appropriate answer in this case. Hell, that entire little thing seemed the exact opposite of appropriate. You remind yourself that that’s just how he is. However, you still haven’t gotten a good enough word from him and that tiny, maybe two minute interview will no doubt be overlooked from your boss. 

Something different, something more. 

And so that’s how you’ve landed yourself in this precarious situation in the first place. It’s late—around twelve in the morning. And this supposed ‘meet-up’ feels more like a booty call than anything else. You won’t voice that thought aloud, of course. He’s sitting on the cuck chair in the corner of his…dressing room? It feels more like a five star hotel room. You’ve taken purchase on the edge of the bed inside, hands tucked into your lap. You’ve opted out of the dress you wore for the event, landing on a simple tee and jeans. Your recorder beside you, with your notebook and pen placed underneath your hands. 

He’s just been eating. 

Eating carelessly. 

It’s already been close to twenty minutes and you don’t know when you should bring up the whole reason you’re even here for. After a few more grueling seconds, the air having been filled with his loud chewing far longer than you have patience for. You clear your throat. “Um…Mr. Gojo? Do you mind if we—”

“Have you ever had Mediterranean food?” He cuts you off, jabbing his white plastic fork in your direction. 

Your eyes flick to the fork in his hand, then back to his face. The man looks completely unbothered, leaning back in his chair as though he has all the time in the world. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankles, and his tie is now undone, the top buttons of his shirt popped open. He’s the picture of relaxed arrogance, and it’s both infuriating and—annoyingly—endearing.  

“Uh, yeah,” you say hesitantly, thrown off by the abrupt change in topic. “Once or twice.”  

He hums, jabbing his fork into another piece of grilled chicken and popping it into his mouth. “Then you’re missing out. There’s this place down the street? Incredible. You’ve gotta try it. I’ll have them send some up next time you’re around.”  

You blink at him, unsure how to respond. Is he really talking about food right now? After inviting you here in the middle of the night and keeping you waiting for nearly half an hour while he scarfs down a late-night feast? And is he trying to hint at another rendezvous? Yeah fucking right. Your fingers tighten slightly around your notebook, the patience you’ve been clinging to starting to wear thin. “Right,” you try again, keeping your voice steady, “I appreciate the recommendation, but I was hoping we could get back to the interview. So may we—”

“But you get it, right?” he says, leaning back in the chair, his legs spread out wider, his posture entirely too relaxed for someone in the middle of an impromptu midnight interview. “It’s addictive. This hummus? Unreal. Whoever catered tonight deserves an award more than I do.”

You thin your lips, unsure whether to laugh or remind him why you’re actually here. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you say diplomatically, gesturing to the plate in his hand. “But I was hoping we could, you know, get started?”

Gojo hums thoughtfully, scooping up another bite with his fork. “You’re right,” he concedes, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggests otherwise. “But here’s the thing—you can’t do an interview on an empty stomach. Or when the food’s this good.”

You sigh, biting back a retort as he takes another slow, deliberate bite, chewing like he has all the time in the world. “Mr. Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he corrects, grinning as he sets the plate down on the small table beside him. He wipes his hands on a napkin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he meets your gaze. “We’re not on the red carpet anymore. Call me Satoru.” 

His sudden shift in demeanor catches you off guard, the playful air taking on a more serious edge. You glance at your recorder, then back at him, your pulse quickening. “Alright, Satoru,” you say carefully, your fingers tightening around your pen. “Let’s make this count.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to keep up. “Oh, don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “I always do.”

You nod and fumble for a moment before flipping open your notebook. “Ah, well, I was hoping to dive a little deeper into your creative process—how you approach roles and what inspires you.”  

Gojo leans back again, the smirk never leaving his face. “My creative process, huh? That’s such a professional way of asking how I make the magic happen.” He chuckles, his gaze flicking over you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “But I’ll bite. It all starts with... you.”  

You freeze, brows furrowing. You don’t know if he’s teasing you or if he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Me?” you manage to say, trying to keep your composure.  

“Not you specifically,” he clarifies, though the playful glint in his eyes suggests otherwise. “But someone like you. Someone intriguing, who makes me want to figure out what makes them tick. That’s where I find inspiration.”  

The air in the room shifts, the casual atmosphere taking on a sharper edge. You’re getting a little annoyed at the fact that he’s answering the question but also trying to throw you off balance. Either way, you’re determined not to let him see you lose composure.  

“That’s interesting,” you respond, forcing a smile as you jot something down in your notebook, “Is there any way you can elaborate?.”  

His laughter fills the room, low and rich. “Isn’t that what I just did?” he teases, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. His fingers drum lightly on the arm of the chair as he watches you, a predator sizing up its prey. “I thought I was being pretty clear. Inspiration comes from people—complex, messy, fascinating people.”  

That sounds like an insult. You tap your pen against your notebook, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Right, but I was hoping for specifics,” you respond, doing your best to keep your tone professional despite his relentless charm. “How do you translate that into a character? What’s the first step you take when preparing for a role?”  

Gojo leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, and suddenly the air between you feels far too tight. “The first step?” he echoes, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “I find the humanity in them. Even in the villains, the assholes, the broken ones. There’s always something real there, something raw. That’s what I latch onto.”  

You nod, quickly jotting down his words even as your pulse quickens. He’s finally giving you something substantive, and yet the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to focus. “That’s... an interesting perspective,” you manage, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “So you try to connect with the character on a personal level?”  

“Exactly,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “It’s like peeling back layers, you know? Finding the parts of them that no one else sees. The parts they try to hide.”  

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you can’t help but feel like he’s talking about more than just acting. You glance up at him, and the way he’s watching you—like he’s peeling back your layers—sends a shiver down your spine.  

“I see,” you say, clearing your throat in an attempt to break the tension, “that certainly explains why your performances feel so authentic. You make it sound almost... personal.”  

“It is personal,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Every role I take on, every scene I play—it’s all personal. That’s why people connect with it. They see themselves in it.”  

You can’t help but be impressed, even as his words unsettle you. He’s infuriatingly good at this—at keeping you on your toes, at blurring the line between sincerity and seduction. But you’re not about to let him derail you. Not when you’ve finally gotten him to open up.  

“Do you ever find it difficult to separate yourself from the characters you play?” you ask, leaning forward slightly despite yourself. He sees this, scooting his chair closer subtly.   

Gojo’s smile widens, and for a moment, he looks almost amused. “Now that’s a good question,” he says, his tone laced with approval. “But the answer? No. I don’t separate myself from them. That’s the whole point. If I did, it wouldn’t be real.”  

His response leaves you momentarily speechless, and he seems to relish the effect he’s having on you. “Anything else you want to know?” he prompts, his grin turning devilish. “Or are you ready to call it a night?”  

Your grip tightens on your pen, and you force yourself to sit up straighter, refusing to let him see you flustered. “I’ve still got a few more questions,” you say firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you’re up for it.”  

“Oh, I’m always up for it,” he quips, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and captivating. “Hit me with your best shot.”

With another nod, you look up from jotting your notes to see him sliding his rings off his slender fingers. For a moment, you do nothing but focus on the paleness of the digits. You remember him saying in an interview how his fingers were six inches long. You thought he was joking no doubt, doing it all for his thirsty fangirls. But now that you’re looking at them in person…he was actually telling the truth. Your gaze slides up to his forearms that are revealed from his messy, cuffed-up sleeves. Then they travel down his fingers to his small waist, finally to his thighs. Mentally cursing yourself, you glance back at his fingers that flex freely once they’re free from the constraints of the metal. You gulp down the dryness in your throat, an intrusive thought sneaking way into your brain—wondering about what it would feel like if they were—

“A little shameless of you.” He chuckles. 

His voice snaps your eyes back up to his. You recognize the playful glint in them, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. “I—sorry. That’s inappropriate of me.”

Gojo leans forward for the nth time, resting his elbows on his knees as his lips curve into a smug grin. “Oh, don’t apologize,” he drawls, his tone oozing amusement. “I’m flattered, really. Most people just stare at my face—nice to know my hands are getting the attention they deserve.”  

You let out a nervous laugh, gripping your pen tighter to ground yourself. “Um…it’s not like that,” you protest weakly, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “I was just... lost in thought.”  

“Lost in thought, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening as though he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. “Thinking about anything particular?”  

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, you forget how to respond. His gaze is too sharp, too knowing, like he’s reading the very thought you’d just shoved to the deepest recess of your mind. “Just about the interview,” you manage to say, your voice smoother than you expected. “I was trying to figure out how to phrase my next question.”  

“Sure you were,” he teases, leaning back again and sliding his hands into his pockets. The movement draws your attention to the way his pale blue button-up shirt stretches over his broad chest, and you quickly force your eyes back to his face before he can catch you staring again.  

“I was,” you insist, determined to salvage what’s left of your dignity. You clear your throat and flip to a fresh page in your notebook, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Now, about your approach to emotional scenes—how do you tap into those raw feelings on set?”  

Gojo chuckles, clearly enjoying the way you’re scrambling to regain control of the conversation. “Ah, so we’re back to work now? Alright, I’ll play along.” He taps his chin thoughtfully, the playful edge in his expression softening just a fraction. “Emotional scenes are all about honesty. You can’t fake it—not if you want the audience to feel it. You have to find something real, something that hurts, and let it bleed into the performance.”  

His answer catches you off guard with its sincerity, and for a moment, you forget your embarrassment entirely. “Something real?” you echo, bending forward slightly. “So you draw from personal experiences?”  

“Sometimes,” he admits, his voice lower now, more serious. “Other times, I imagine what it would be like to lose something—or someone—I care about.” His eyes darken briefly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face before it’s gone, replaced by his usual cocky smirk. “But enough about me. It’s always about me, what about you, hm?”  

You blink. “About me? I’m sorry but… I only came here to ask you questions.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, scooting closer in his chair. “Exactly,” he says, waving a hand lazily. “It’s always about me. The questions, the cameras, the lights. Don’t you think that gets boring?”  

You tilt your head, once again caught off guard. “I... can’t imagine someone like you ever finding the spotlight boring,” you reply carefully, unsure of where he’s steering the conversation.  

He grins, a little too self-satisfied. “Fair point. I do wear it well, don’t I? But that doesn’t mean I don’t get curious. You sit here with your little notebook, all professional and serious. But who are you when the recorder’s off? What makes you tick?”  

The shift in focus has your defenses rising, and you straighten your back slightly. “I’m not the one being interviewed, Mr.—Satoru,” you correct yourself when his grin widens at your formality.  

“No,” he says, tilting his head and giving you a once-over that feels far too perceptive. “But doesn’t mean I can’t ask, does it?”  

You let out a nervous laugh, holding your notebook a little closer. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”  

“Rules are boring,” he replies smoothly, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you. His voice drops slightly, his tone more teasing than serious. “Come on, throw me a bone. A favorite movie, a weird hobby, your go-to midnight snack. Something.”  

You hesitate, his gaze pinning you in place. It’s not like you have anything to hide, but the sudden spotlight feels unnerving. “Midnight snack?” you echo, deciding to humor him for the sake of moving things along.  

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just agreed to a game only he knows the rules to. “You know, since you’re obviously not here for Mediterranean food. What do you eat when you’re burning the midnight oil?”  

You press your lips together, trying not to smile despite yourself. “Popcorn,” you admit finally. “Plain, with just a little salt.”  

“Popcorn?” He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued. “Huh. Kind of classic, but I can respect it. Guess I’ll have to stock up before our next late-night chat.”  

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks warm at his casual mention of a “next time.” “I wouldn’t count on that,” you say dryly, but he only smirks, clearly not taking you seriously.  

“We’ll see,” he says, leaning back again and waving a hand. “Alright, you’ve indulged me. Ask away again. I’m all yours.”  

The shift back to the original topic throws you off balance, but you take the opportunity and flip open your notebook, determined to keep the upper hand this time. “Great. Let’s get back to your latest role then—”  

“But popcorn, huh?” he interrupts, clearly not ready to let it go. “You don’t strike me as a plain kind of person.”  

Your pen pauses mid-note, and you give him a pointed look. “Do you always talk this much during interviews?”  

He grins, unapologetic. “Only when I’m having fun.”

You sigh, setting your pen down and narrowing your eyes at him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrays your annoyance. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a professional, you’re awfully good at derailing conversations.”  

Gojo smirks, he fixes you with that signature, infuriatingly confident gaze. “What can I say? I like keeping things interesting.” His voice dips just slightly, low and teasing, and the way his eyes sweep over you feels more deliberate now, more pointed and slower. Like he’s appreciative. “But if I’m being honest… I don’t mind the view either.”  

Your breath hitches, his words make your stomach jump. “The view?” you manage, your voice more balanced than you. 

He cocks his head, his smirk widening. “You,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Sitting there, all serious and composed, trying so hard to keep this professional. But I see the way you look at me.”  

Your heart stutters, your cheeks flushing hot. “I’m not—”  

“Oh, you are,” he interrupts, his grin turning wolfish. “First my fingers,” he flutters his digits in a wavy motion.  “Then my thighs,” he pats his lap.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice, sweetheart.”  

Your jaw drops slightly, heat creeping down your neck. “I was not—”  

“Sure you weren’t,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair and stretching, his shirt pulling just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. His voice lowers, smooth as silk. “But if you want to keep staring, I won’t stop you.”  

You swallow hard, gripping your notebook like it’s a lifeline. “Mr. Gojo, I don’t think this is appropriate.”  

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “And who’s being inappropriate? I’m just making an observation.” He leans forward again, his voice dropping to a near whisper, intimate and teasing. “Besides, don’t you think it’s a little unfair? You get to ask me all these personal questions, but I can’t ask any about you?”  

You shift in your seat, your pulse racing. “That’s not how interviews work.”  

“Maybe not,” he murmurs, his gaze darkening slightly as it locks onto yours. “But we’re not exactly following the rules, are we?”  

The tension in the room thickens, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. You glance at the door, a small voice in the back of your mind warning you to cut this short, but another part of you—one you’re desperately trying to ignore—is drawn to the way his eyes seem to drink you in, the way his voice wraps around you like a warm, dangerous promise.  

“I’m here to work,” you say finally, your voice firmer now, though it betrays a slight waver.  

“And I’m here to have a good time,” he counters, his smirk softening into something more intimate, more dangerous. “Who says we can’t do both?”  

You stare at him, your mind racing as you try to find the words to put an end to this—whatever this is—but he leans closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.  

“Tell me,” he says, his breath ghosting over your ear, “what’s the real reason you wanted to meet me tonight? Because I don’t think it’s just for an interview.” 

You force yourself to not visibly react and jolt from the way he’s reached into your personal space so nonchalantly. “Then you’re mistaken. Because I have no other reason to be here if you won’t comply.”

“Oh yeah?” He chortles, glancing down at his fingers that barely skim along your thigh. If possible, his smile widens at the little startled gasp that falls from your pretty lips. “You want me to comply? Comply in what way?”

“H-hey,” you reach out to grip his fingers, effectively stopping their ascent. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

When he pulls back enough, he stares into your eyes. It almost scares you just how blue they are up close. You don’t think you’ve ever seen something as majestic as them. Though saying that aloud will feed into his ego. 

He tilts his head slightly, his smile turning wicked, like a predator playing with its prey. “What do you think I’m doing?” he counters, voice dropping to a husky whisper. The air between you crackles, and despite yourself, your grip on his fingers falters, his warmth sinking into your skin like a brand.  

“Satoru,” you begin, your voice shaking ever so slightly, “this is highly inappropriate.”  

“Inappropriate?” he echoes, coming just a little closer, his lips quirking in amusement. “I was just trying to get comfortable. Didn’t realize I’d make you so flustered.”  

Your breath catches, his words striking a chord you’re not ready to acknowledge. “You’re awfully bold for someone who’s supposed to be answering questions,” you manage, your voice sharp despite the fluttering in your stomach.

“And you’re awfully composed for someone who’s blushing so much,” he counters smoothly, his eyes flicking to your cheeks.

“I’m not blushing,” you snap, your tone defensive.

“Of course not,” he replies, his smirk returning. “Just like you weren’t staring earlier.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you glare at him, attempting to regain control of the situation. “I’m not flustered either,” you retort, though your trembling fingers and flushed cheeks tell a different story.  

He chuckles, low and intimate, and it sends a shiver racing down your spine. “If you say so,” he murmurs, leaning back slightly but never taking his eyes off you. His fingers slip free from your grasp, but the ghost of their touch lingers, a reminder of just how easily he’s unraveled your composure.  

“You’re impossible,” you say, your tone sharp despite the unsteadiness in your chest.  

“And yet,” he counters, his grin softening into something more dangerous, “you’re still here.”  

You open your mouth to argue, to remind him that you’re here for work, but the words catch in your throat as he shifts again, this time resting his chin on his hand, his gaze trailing lazily over you.  

“You’re fascinating, you know that?” he says, almost to himself. “All buttoned up and professional, trying so hard to keep me in line. But I wonder…” His eyes flick to your lips, lingering for a heartbeat before meeting yours again. “What would it take to make you unravel?”  

You stiffen, the heat rushing through your body making it harder to maintain your composure. “You’re crossing a line,” you warn, though your voice is weaker than you’d like.  

“Am I?” he asks, his tone teasing but his gaze piercing, as if daring you to tell him to stop. “Or are you just afraid of what might happen if I keep going?”

Your eyes dart all across his face, heart rapidly beating, so much so you think it’ll pop out of your chest. And yet, you slowly look back down at the hand that was just touching you. You feel yourself giving in the longer you stare. 

He follows your gaze, then moves back up to your face. “You like them, don’t you?”

You nod, despite yourself. 

“Knew it,” he smoothly quips back. “Do you want to feel them again? Maybe for longer?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, and you can’t seem to swallow the lump forming in your throat. Your mind races, torn between the desire to pull away and the undeniable pull he has on you. His words—his voice—are like a drug, wrapping around your thoughts, clouding your judgment.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, but the intensity there makes it harder to keep your composure. “You’re... bold,” you murmur, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Gojo’s lips curl into a knowing smile. “Bold? Maybe. But I’m just asking what you want.” His tone is smooth, low, coaxing. “No need to be shy about it. You’ve been looking, haven’t you?”

Your eyes flicker briefly to his hand again before locking back on his face. His question seems almost too straightforward, too easy, and yet you can’t seem to lie. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the truth lingering just beneath the surface. “Maybe,” you admit softly, your voice a mix of hesitation and curiosity.

A soft chuckle escapes him, and his gaze sharpens. “Maybe isn’t an answer.” He leans in slightly, just enough to make your pulse spike. “Tell me, do you want to feel them again? Really feel them this time?” His voice drops to a near whisper, each word deliberate, measured.

You hold your breath, your entire body humming with uncertainty, but you can’t bring yourself to say no. The desire building within you makes your thoughts scatter, your defenses slipping away the longer you look at him. “I... don’t know,” you reply, the words barely audible.

Gojo watches you closely, his eyes darkening with something dangerous. “Mind if I find out for myself then?”

------

There’s a lot of things that you’ve never done in life. 

Skydiving, bungee jumping, going backpacking, and making out with an A-list celebrity who’s name holds so much power. Well, that last one you can cross off, actually. 

You really don’t know how things have changed so quickly and abruptly. One minute you’re writing down the answers to his questions and the next he’s on top of you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever made out with someone for this long. But it feels surpassingly really good. Maybe it’s the way he’s keeping things slow, but purposeful. His hands run along the sides of your body, occasionally gripping your hips or rising high enough to brush along under your breasts. His lips are expertly working your own, leaving you gasping for air when he pulls away for a few seconds before diving in like a starving man. His tongue prods inside your mouth, dancing along yours in a sultry dance. Rubbing it and sucking on it a few times. 

You feel him smile against your lips when the arms around his neck bring him in closer. 

The kiss deepens, and with each second, you're losing yourself more in the heat of the moment.

His body presses against yours, warm and firm, and the sensation is so overwhelming that you can't tell where you end and he begins. Every breath, every shift of his lips, ignites something inside of you that you can't ignore.

His hands are everywhere now, roaming with an insistent hunger, fingertips brushing over your skin like he's savoring every inch. The low groans he releases when you kiss him back only fuel the fire building between you. He's so confident, so sure of what he wants, and you're too far gone to stop him. The logical part of your brain—that small voice telling you to slow down—is drowned out by the intoxicating thrill of being here, of being with him.

Your hands find their way to his shirt, pulling it free from where it's tucked in, fingers trailing underneath and over the hard planes of his chest. You feel him tense for a moment, as if considering pulling away, but then his hands tighten around you, pulling you even closer. His lips are everywhere—on your neck, your jaw, your ears—each kiss leaving a trail of warmth that burns deeper into your skin.

You gasp when his teeth graze your collarbone, a quiet moan slipping out before you can stop it.

That sound, that reaction from you, seems to drive him even further. "God, you taste really fucking good," he mutters between kisses, his voice thick with desire, making you shiver beneath him. “Almost can’t get enough.”

The weight of his body on top of yours feels right, too right. There’s escaping it now, no turning back. His touch is electric and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to remember what it felt like to breathe without him. 

With one final, hard press against your lips, he pulls back. Shifting to his knees, looking down at your sprawled out figure beneath him, cheeks flushed a beautiful red, lips kiss-swollen, dilated pupils that match his. He grins and works at the rest of his buttons with one hand. “What happened to that pretty dress you were wearing earlier?”

“I…I changed.” You shakily mutter out, oblivious to the hint of rhetoric in his question. 

“Yeah, I see that. But why?”

“Because it was uncomfortable.”

You attempt to sit up and help him, but he promptly guides you back down. Freeing his shirt, revealing a chest that looks like it belongs to a Greek God. It’s lean, but muscular. It’s perfect, you think to yourself. And you really want to run your tongue along it. “Uncomfortable?” He asks. 

You nod. 

“That sucks. I would’ve liked to taste you in it.” He’s working on his belt now. “Maybe next time? Wear it again for me?”

“I don’t know if there’ll be a next time.”

He laughs out, tossing the leather to the side and unbuttoning his slacks. It’s only then do you realize the obvious tent in his pants. Your eyes widen momentarily, if it already looks this big…how will it look once he’s naked? “There’ll be a next time.”

He hovers over you again, his fingers deftly walking at the button of your jeans, lips sucking a small mark into the side of your neck. His other hand on your thigh slides up towards your hip, grabbing the hem of your shirt and slowly starts to pull it up. “Now I wonder,” he murmurs, his lips leaving your neck and moving back towards your ear, “if I asked, would I hear a ‘no’ come out of you?”

You’re shivering, breathing labored. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders to keep you grounded. “…no.”

He smiles, kissing your cheek in a gentle manner as his hands simultaneously unbutton your jeans and pull your shirt up. “So, I don’t suppose I’ll hear a ‘no’ for getting a small peek at you, will I?”

“No,” you breathe out, shoving your face into his neck. 

With a soft coo and ‘shh’, he’s removing your shirt from over your head. Then working on ridding you of your pants. “I hate jeans, makes things so much harder.”

Your legs tense up once they’re exposed to the cold air. He places his palms to your knees, carefully widening them enough to make space in between. “Have you ever been ate out?”

The question makes you feel more embarrassed—more vulnerable. 

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. The question catches you off guard, making your skin prickle with both unease and something else you can’t quite name. You hesitantly shift, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I have,” you manage to say, your gaze avoiding his as your cheeks flush. 

“Good?” He licks at the inside of your knee. 

Your face scrunches, brows knitting in the middle. “Y-yeah, somewhat.”

“Liar,” he chides, placing small kisses to the spot he just licked, looking up at you. “Can I try?”

And how could you say no? “Yes.” You reply quietly, watching his grin disappear behind your heated center. Eyes fluttering when he breathes warm air against it. Jolting your hips up, to which he holds them down in a gentle grip. 

A wet spot has already formed on your panties. Unbeknownst to you, it boosts his ego. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.” He takes a taste through the fabric, silently simmering with enjoyment at the way you  squeal. Licking once more before nuzzling his nose against your heat. He inhales deeply, like it’s a sweet flower bathed in honey. Once he’s satisfied, the speed at which he sparingly removes your underwear startles you. 

But so does his mouth. 

“Ah..!”

Your hand instinctively grips his snowy locks. He makes a noise of approval, lips locking around your puffy clit and giving a soft, but also harsh suck. The air practically removes your lungs, back arching off the bed. Mouth hung open, grip tightening around his hair. After a few seconds, he moves down to your fluttering hole. 

His thumb and pointer finger spreading your folds to see you clenching around nothing. His cock throbs in his pants, begging to be released. Not yet, however. You first. His tongue swirls around your hole, licking up every single remnant of juice before digging in. Feeling out every ridge with his wet muscle, eyes closing in delight. His hands bring you closer by your hips, shoving your pussy in his face. The tip of his nose is rubbing against your abandoned clit in a teasing way that makes you hungry for me. 

All you can do is gasp and moan out, pathetically rubbing against his mouth before his hands grip you back down in place. Forcing you to feel every amount of pleasure he can give to you. And god, does it feel heavenly. Your free hand is holding onto the sheets below you, crumpling under your fingertips. 

Lewd sucking noises are coming from him. It’s obnoxious, just like when he was eating his food from earlier. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose. His tongue does a certain move that has you seeing stars, moving in and out at a rapid pace, then circling up to and around your clit before plunging back to your needy hole. 

His thumb decides to partake, rubbing heated circles into your clit. “Nnn..nrgh…w-wai—” The words slip from you, just like your orgasm does. You don’t even know you’ve done it before he’s lifting his face up, revealing the pearlescent traces of your release. He doesn’t bother wiping it, instead leaning down to your lips. You taste yourself. 

It’s a new taste, one you’re not entirely excited about, but the thrill of it all is making your clench. Shaky thighs being groped by his wandering hands before looking straight down at you. “I’m kind of jealous, you know?”

You’re too fucked out already, half-lidded eyes and mumbling back a simple “what?” to him. 

He tsks and easily slips two fingers in. Keeling in on yourself, grasping his forearm for support. “Hey, don’t get all dazy on me now. I’ve just started.”

“I-I’m not…” you protest back weakly, your effort to meet his stare goes awry when you notice him frustratedly pulling the button off and zipper down, yanking the slacks down. With it goes his boxers and you’re shown a thin and curved cock. An angry red mushroom tip. A couple of veins run up his shaft, zig-zagging. He’s already leaking, pumping himself a few times. 

A small groan leaves him, placing a hand beside your head. There’s a cinch between his white eyebrows, his face red and a tad bit sweaty. His lips are downturned slightly. After some heavy breathing, he looks back down at you. Silent seconds take over, nothing but the feel of your body against his, your short breathing, the way you look so ready but nervous at the same time. His face softens. “You can take it, yeah?” 

His gaze is intense, but there’s something warmer in his eyes now—something that feels almost reassuring, like he’s giving you a choice. The way he watches you carefully makes your heart race, unsure of whether it’s fear or anticipation that grips you. You swallow, trying to steady your breathing, your fingers nervously clutching his shoulders. 

The room feels charged with tension, every muscle in your body taut as you process his words. You can feel eyes stuck on you, oddly tender, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time. 

"Yeah," you finally manage, your voice a little shaky but resolute. "I can take it." 

His eyes soften further, a trace of a smile tugging at his lips, as if reassured by your response. “Yeah, you can. You’re not a virgin, right?”

“No.”

“Mm,” he hums, nodding briefly before glancing down at his hardened cock, achingly close to where it needs to be. “How do you like it?”

You ponder his question in your mind quickly, not trying to drag out the moment any longer than it should be. “I…I like it hard. Fast, but slow too. I just want it to feel genuine, not like you’re only seeking your own pleasure.”

“Yeah?” The corner of his lip perks up, rubbing his tip along your cum soaked folds. He laughs softly under his breath. “Funny, that’s how I like to give it. Maybe we’re a match made in heaven.”

The humor of his you once found annoying—well, still annoying—feels strangely wholehearted. Like he’s trying to make you laugh and relax your tense muscles. And you do, he meets your look again. Bending down with a soft, saccharine kiss to your lips. The kiss feels more tender than before, like he’s trying to convey some hidden emotion to you behind it all. Or maybe it’s because he likes feeling you moan into his mouth as he’s slowly sliding his cock in. 

He mirrors your whimper, moaning out in relief. You feel so snug around him, so tight. “So warm.” 

For a minute, he doesn’t move, just basking in your heat. It feels like a warm blanket, he almost—almost—thinks he might cum right then and there with how good you feel. Satoru has had pussy before, good and not so good. “Fuck…oh fuck….y-you feel…really good…”

One thing that makes you the most weak…a vocal man in bed. You tighten around him, his whine gets a little higher-pitched. If this were a different situation, you think you would’ve poked fun at him for it. “Ngh…I—I am?”

“Mmmmnghm.” Is all he can reply back with before he’s moving back slowly, then back in. 

Your nails are now digging into the skin of his back, legs locked around his waist. “Be careful, mkay?” 

“W-what? Why?”

“Because I might cum faster with you holdin’—fuck—onto me like this.”

You can’t respond before he’s pulling out with a greater force and driving back into you with a harder one. The motion alone jolts your body up, causing your tits to jiggle from beneath their cups. You see the way he’s eying them hungrily, so you do him the favor of pulling them down beneath your breasts. They spill out and he’s immediately on them. Sucking and twirling a wet path around your perky nipple before showing the other breast the same excitement. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes…”

“A-ah! O-oh! Mmmngh!”

You almost feel baffled. He’s moaning more than you are. 

His mind is filled with the warmth of you. “Fit like…a f-fuckin’…ring….!” He grunts out, followed by a broken laughter. “I think I’m obsessed.”

He’s leaving marks on your chest, but you don’t protest or even feel them. You’re solely focused on the way his cock is hitting every single spot in your pussy that you don’t even know could be reached. Eyes rolling back, clinging him closer. His tip kisses your g-spot repetitively. His balls slap against your ass, the sound is skin against skin with squelching noises fill the room. It’s erotic, completely provocative. But he’s actually living up to his word, and it seems like he’s more worried about making you finish for the second time tonight than reaching the line himself. 

As the minutes go by, he’s moving harder. Barely giving you any time to breath from the force of it, but you’re not complaining. 

“S-sat…oru…!” You whine out, biting on his shoulder in an attempt to keep your noises lower. 

All that does is spur him on even more, his moans getting louder. The grip on your hip and tit tightening as he pounds his cock into your pussy with complete ease. “So wet, so wet, yeah…oh god, fuck…”

He’s mumbling at this point, but so are you. Each of you is blinded by the pleasure you feel, the passion that’s being emitted and the marks on your bodies that are carved in. His cock twitches, his pace relentless. 

The look he gives you feels manic, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving up and down, nostrils flaring in and out. Your hair is messy, laid out beneath you. Mouth parted and dirty sounds exiting it. “I wish I could take a picture right now.” He comments slowly, feeling your thighs tighten. “It feels like your pussy is vibrating,” he chuffs. “Close?”

“Ngh…y-yes!” 

“Yeah, me too, pretty. You first, r-right…behind….you….”

You don’t need to hear anything else. Finally letting go, a whimper-whine coming with it. When he looks down and sees the white ring form around his cock, he’s done for. Quickening his pace, gripping your hips with both hands. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…” 

He moans in a pornographic way, an eruption of warmth fills you, leaving you in more of a blissed out state. A mixture of cum slowly dribbles out your spent pussy, he fingers it back in all the while his cock is still lodged between your folds. Slumping down on top of you, his face on your shoulder. 

The sounds of heavy breathing are heard next, no words. Your chest heaves against his and your legs are like jelly. Slowly loosening their hold from around his waist and falling down to the bed on either side of him. 

The silence is almost deafening, punctuated only by the sounds of your labored breaths. His hands move to your back, tender yet firm, as though he's holding onto the moment. The heat between you both is palpable, your bodies still connected in the aftermath of whatever just transpired. His thumb traces slow, soothing circles against your skin, and you can feel his breath matching yours.

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts, but everything feels hazy, like the world has slowed down just for the two of you.

Your body feels like it's still vibrating from the intensity, each breath a little deeper than the last as you struggle to regain some semblance of control. He shifts slightly above you, pressing against yours in the most familiar way, a warmth that you can't quite pull away from.

Slowly, you tilt your head to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his with an unspoken understanding. He regards you with a tenderness, something different than before. 

His fingers lightly brush against your cheek, as if reassuring you that the silence, though heavy, isn't uncomfortable. "Are you okay?" His voice is low, rough, carrying more than just the weight of the question.

You nod, your lips curling into a small, uncertain smile as you lean into his touch. "Yeah, are you?" You don't know exactly what you feel, but in this moment, it's enough to be with him like this.

“Better than okay,” he proudly huffs, carefully sliding out of you, keeping aware of your facial expressions. “Stay here.”

He’s climbing off of you and standing up from the bed. His knees buckle a little, forcing the limbs to walk over to a cabinet in the other corner. His dick flapping as it softens makes you chuckle. When he looks over, you hide it with a cough. 

You hear him look for some things through drawers, glancing back over, it’s a rag that he wets under the sink with warm water. He comes back over, carefully opening your legs back up and cleaning up the sticky mess between them. He works gently and slowly, making sure his movements aren’t too hard or fast for you. 

A thought suddenly hits you. 

“Hey…” you take your time sitting up once he’s down, seeing him lick something off the tip of his thumb. “When you said you were jealous earlier, what did you mean?”

“Oh, that?” He leisurely asks, grabbing the water bottle nearby and taking a sip before holding it to your mouth. You oblige. “I meant I was jealous that someone else got to you before I did.”

“O-oh…” he swipes at the water drop at the corner of your mouth. “But…why?”

“Why?” He repeats, chortling. A sudden soft peck is placed on your lips. “Because I’ve seen you interviewing all those people and I’ve  been waiting for my turn. And if you didn’t already notice, I think you’re a very beautiful woman. Inside and out.” He pokes lightly at your thigh. 

You blink, as he’s once again managed to throw you off the railings. 

“So next time don’t bring all…this,” he lazily gestures to your notebook, pencil, and recorder, rolling his eyes. “Just yourself, that cute dress, and a smile. I’ll pick you up for dinner down the street.”

a/n: hope u guys enjoyed this :) i haven't written a smut piece in a while so im not toooo confident about my work in this. anywho, reblogs and comments are apprecaited <3 thank you all!

[keeryhours]

thankful - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You, Rafe, and Iris spend Thanksgiving with the Camerons.

Request: “maybe baby daddy rafe and y/n spend thanksgiving together as a fam? With some smut? 🤭”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, Rafe has a slight breeding kink and refers to himself as daddy 🙃

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

I seriously get so excited when you guys request things, and this one is so timely! I went back in time for this one, so hopefully that’s okay. I hope you enjoy! I’m so glad you guys are loving this series <3 Requests are still open and if you’ve already sent one, I’ll be getting to it!

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“You look beautiful.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when you opened the door on Thanksgiving, ready to ride with him to eat dinner with the Camerons. You had dressed in a slightly oversized sage green sweater and a short black skirt with heeled boots. His eyes trailed over your body.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look good yourself, Cameron.”

A smile lit up his handsome face. And he did look really nice. Rafe wore a dark gray button up with khaki slacks, the sleeves of his shirt hugging his biceps deliciously.

“Where’s my girl?” he asked. You were honestly surprised that wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth.

“JJ has her,” you explained, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “He’s getting her in the car seat.”

Rafe followed you into the house and into the living room, where JJ was just finishing up tightening the straps of Iris’ seat. “All set, pretty girl,” JJ announced to the baby, ignoring Rafe’s presence.

Iris cooed happily at her uncle. She was days away from turning 6 months old, just beginning to learn to sit up on her own. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Rafe, and she squealed.

Rafe grinned widely, practically pushing JJ out of the way as he walked up to the seat and crouched to be eye level with his daughter. “Hi, baby girl,” he greeted her, holding out his hand and letting her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. “You ready for your first Cameron Thanksgiving?”

Iris blew bubbles at him, which he took for a yes as he laughed. Iris was dressed in a brown Thanksgiving-themed dress, white tights on her chubby legs to help keep her warm. She had a matching bow in her light brown hair. Her big blue eyes looked right into her father’s matching ones.

Rafe stood, picking up the infant carrier. “Ready to go?” he asked you, and you nodded in confirmation.

Rafe was already out the door and on the way to his truck. JJ gave you a hug before you followed after him. He was baby talking to Iris as he locked her seat into the base. He turned as you approached, a smile on his face.

“Both my girls look stunning today,” he said as he closed the truck door. “I’m a lucky guy.”

You blushed deeply as you both climbed into your sides of the vehicle - you hadn’t officially been Rafe’s girl in a long time, but he seemed to have no intentions of dropping the nickname.

You felt a little nervous on the drive over. It’s not like you weren’t incredibly familiar with the Camerons, but it also felt like a big deal. This was your first Thanksgiving together as a family (well, kind of), and you felt the pressure of it. Not that Iris would care how things went, she’d never remember it obviously, but you would, and you wanted the evening to go well, for the day to be special.

Rafe pulled into the long driveway of Tannyhill, the gorgeous Cameron estate that you had admired your whole life. You used to be incredibly jealous when you were younger, truthfully. You and JJ had a rough home life with an abusive father, so you both spent much of your childhoods dreaming of something better. Tannyhill made frequent appearances in your fantasies. So did Rafe.

At the time, you felt you could never admit your crush on the eldest Cameron to anyone, especially not your best friend Sarah. Because how lame would that have been for you to admit to crushing on her jerk of a big brother? It’s funny how things worked out in the end. You had dated Rafe secretly for a while, but when it came out (awkwardly, with Sarah walking in on you two in a very compromising position), you realized you had worried for nothing because Sarah actually loved the two of you together. She said you brought out the best in Rafe. For a while, at least.

You smoothed your skirt as you climbed out of the truck, watching Rafe retrieve the car seat from the back. You walked side by side to the house, nerves buzzing in your stomach.

The smell of the house hits you immediately - it smells delicious. Your mouth practically waters as you take in the smell of the different foods waiting in the dining room. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

The Cameron family greeted you warmly when the three of you walked into the dining room. Ward and Rose both gave you a big hug, followed by Sarah launching herself into your arms and an attack by a nearly-as-excited Wheezie.

You were nothing compared to the little girl bundled in her seat, though. Rafe watched on with a proud smile as his family crowded around the carrier, baby talking to Iris. Ward is the one who unbuckles her and lifts her from her carrier first, holding her to his chest and looking like the proud grandpa he is while the others crowd around. It leaves you feeling warm inside.

The food was already spread across the large table. A huge selection - a perfect looking turkey, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, any Thanksgiving food you could dream of was prepared to perfection and displayed on the Cameron’s dining table.

When it was time to eat, you took a seat next to Rafe. Iris had a high chair set up for her, but she spent the meal bouncing from lap to lap. The conversation is comfortable and you find yourself laughing through most of the meal. The food is as delicious as it smelled, and you happily eat as much of it as you can.

After dinner, a football game is turned on the huge TV in the living room. Ward retired with a drink in hand to watch, while Wheezie lounged on the couch and Sarah joined Rose in the kitchen, Iris on her hip.

You stood, about to join the girls in the kitchen, when you felt large hands making themselves at home on your waist, warm breath against your ear.

“Let’s sneak off somewhere,” Rafe whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Rafe…” you scolded, turning around to look at him. “We can’t. And we’re literally surrounded by your family-“

“We can,” he interrupted you, hands wandering along your sides, around to grab onto your ass. “C‘mon…”

He grabbed onto your hand and pulled on it, a mischievous smile on his handsome face. You looked around, making sure no one was paying any attention to you. Rafe knew you would give in, but the delight on his face when you move your feet to follow after him is unmatched.

He pulls you down the hall to one of the downstairs bathrooms, quickly pulling you inside and locking the door behind you as you flip on the light switch. You barely have time to take in your surroundings before Rafe’s pressing you up against the door, his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

Rafe’s hands explored every inch of your body he could reach, tracing over your curves, moaning into your mouth as he grabbed your ass again before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Rafe…” you breathed out against his lips, head going dizzy already from the way he was already everywhere all over you at once.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby,” he mumbled, fingers pushing your panties to the side, rubbing against your already throbbing clit. You gasped, eyes falling shut. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you promised him, desperate for him to just keep going. You’d do anything as long as he didn’t stop.

Rafe pushed a finger into your entrance, making your head fall back against the door with a thud as your mouth fell open. He began to pump his finger in and out of your tight heat while you tried to keep your legs from collapsing.

“So tight…” Rafe commented as he added a second finger, readying you to take him. “Been missin’ me?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you confessed easily, causing Rafe to chuckle as he placed kisses along your jaw. He had you losing your mind on nothing but two of his fingers and a few kisses - you never stood a chance with Rafe.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he said lowly, mouth moving to your neck to suck and bite along all the sensitive spots he knows by heart.

He used his palm to rub against your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers into your pussy, curling them deep inside to hit that perfect spot that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor if it wasn’t for Rafe’s strong arm around your waist. You let yourself melt into him as he expertly took you apart.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the feeling of your walls clenching around him in the most familiar way.

“‘m so close…” you mumbled, head falling forward onto Rafe’s shoulder. He laughed at how weak you became for him, and how easy it was for him to get you there. He couldn’t get enough.

He thrusted his fingers faster, making sure to press against that perfect spot with every push inside. Your legs trembled, whole body electric as you grabbed onto Rafe for dear life, biting down on his shoulder to stifle your moans as your release rocked through you intensely. Your cunt spasmed around his fingers as he worked you through it, mumbling whispers of “Good girl, that’s it, fall apart for me, cum all over my fingers pretty girl, that’s fuckin’ right…”

Rafe didn’t even care about your teeth digging into his shoulder, like he barely even noticed it. He pulled out of you slowly and you whined, a cocky smirk growing across his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a groan. “Still so sweet, baby.”

“Rafe, I need you,” you begged, legs hardly able to hold your weight as you leaned against the bathroom door. You felt pretty pathetic right now.

“Yeah? You still need my cock even after you just came all over my fingers?” Rafe asked, eyes darkened with lust as he grabbed your waist and roughly positioned you to lean over the countertop. “Greedy little cunt.” He smacked your ass hard, making you jump and stifle a moan with your hand.

You watched in the mirror as Rafe pulled your skirt up around your waist, harshly pulling your panties down your legs and stuffing them in his pocket. His eyes met yours in the mirror, mischievous smirk on his lips.

His hands quickly undid his belt and slacks, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You wanted to turn around and get a good look at it - it had been a minute since you’d seen it, but you could never forget how nice it is - but Rafe had you pinned to the counter.

He gave his already rock hard length a couple quick pumps as his other hand rested on your hip, rubbing circles into the skin. He took the time to take in the view before him - his favorite view. You all bent over for him, pussy soaking wet and spread wide for him to fuck however he pleased. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He lined himself up at your entrance, thick cockhead pressing against you eagerly, precum smeared across his tip. His eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You started that birth control, yeah?” he asked, but he was pretty sure he was about to fuck you raw no matter what your answer was.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, pushing your hips back against him. “Been on it for a few weeks. We’re good.”

Rafe didn’t think he could have stopped himself either way, but he felt relieved as he pushed his hips forward, tip breaching your tight hole. You watched his face in the mirror as he slowly filled you, his face completely contorted in pleasure. His brow was furrowed, mouth hanging open as he let out a low, quiet groan, trying his best to hold onto his restraint and not alert the entire household to what you were up to.

His hands dug into your hips harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. His own thighs were trembling, he couldn’t believe the way your pussy was holding onto him, squeezing his cock perfectly like you were made to take him.

“Good, baby?” He gritted out, looking into your eyes in your reflection. You nodded frantically.

“Yeah, baby, want you to fuck me,” you begged.

Rafe let out another quiet groan at your words - fuck, he felt like you would be the absolute death of him sometimes - but it’s exactly what he wanted to hear as he drags his hips back painfully slowly before snapping back into you.

You smack a hand over your mouth just in time for him to thrust back in, the strangled moan that escaped your lips blessedly muffled by your hand. Rafe chuckled darkly, setting a quick pace as he fucked into your tight cunt from behind.

Your free hand gripped onto the side of the counter for some kind of stability. You felt completely at his mercy, your body utterly weak and held up only by the counter beneath you and Rafe’s rough hold on your hips as he pulled your body back against his ruthless thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, take it,” Rafe grunted out quietly, unable to keep his dirty mouth from running even when you were very much at risk of getting caught. His eyes fluttered closed as his hips snapped into you at a frantic, near desperate pace.

You felt another orgasm building inside as he fucked you just right, cock hitting that same perfect spot with every movement. Rafe leaned over you, placing kisses all over your shoulders and getting close enough to hear the breathy whines and moans he was pulling from your chest.

“Sound so pretty like that…” he huffed, hands sliding up under your sweater to grab at your tits. He impulsively pulled the sweater over your head, messing your hair up in the process before dropping it to the bathroom floor. “Need to see you,” is all the explanation you get. He unclasped your bra to free your naked chest to his hungry eyes. God, how he loved your tits. Especially since having a baby - they were perfect before, but now they’d nearly doubled in size and Rafe was obsessed.

He watched them bounce as he fucked you, the sight pushing him closer and closer to his own release. He wrapped his hands around them, squeezing and playing with your nipples, making you let out the most delicious whines whenever he’d pinch at them. You wished he had taken his shirt off so you could see his gorgeous chest, the way his ab muscles would flex as he pounded into you, biceps contracting as he pulled your body against his own.

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you moaned quietly, wanting to let him know how good he was making you feel, how good he always was to you. “I love your cock.”

Rafe groaned. “I know you do, baby.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you even harder as he felt both of your releases approaching rapidly. “I love this perfect pussy, she’s always so good for me…”

Rafe’s hands went back to your hips as he started chasing his release, the power and speed of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, and shoving you up against the counter so hard you were sure you’d have bruises all over tomorrow. “‘m close again, baby…” you whined.

Rafe removed his right hand from your hip and wrapped his arm around your body, fingers going right for your swollen clit to rub quick, precise circles. “Cum for me again, baby, please, wanna feel you cum all over my cock, just for daddy, please baby girl-“

The combination of his words and his actions violently shoved you over the edge, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as it crashed through you for the second time, but infinitely more intense. Your pussy clenched around his girth over and over as you chanted his name into your own hand, ecstasy coursing through your body like a drug.

Your body practically dragged Rafe into his own release and he leaned over to bury his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you up with his load as he continued to slowly pump his hips through his orgasm while you pulsed around him. “Jesus baby, holy fuck…” You hear his muffled voice against your skin, feel his shaking body laying on top of you.

You both took a minute to calm down before Rafe was pulling out of you, leaving you feeling much more empty than before. He stepped back and admired his work, fingers collecting his release that had dripped out of you and pushing it back inside, making you tremble.

“Don’t want to waste a drop, baby,” he said with that cocky grin back on his face. You’d both made sure to always use protection any time you hooked up since Iris was born, but at the same time Rafe loved the idea of filling you up, the idea of you potentially giving him another perfect baby.

Rafe tucked himself back into his pants as you tried your best to compose yourself, pulling your clothes back on and trying to make them look like they hadn’t just been on the floor and shoved around your waist. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. “To dinner,” he clarified, an amused glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. You fussed with your hair, trying your hardest to not leave this bathroom looking freshly fucked. “How do I always let you pull me into these situations?”

“It’s because you can’t resist me,” he said, hands trailing up and down your sides. He squeezed your hips one last time before he pulled away.

“I’m gonna head back out there so we don’t walk out of here together. You take your time.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your lips, then smacked your ass hard before he slipped out the door.

You sighed to your own reflection. Your hair had been thoroughly ruined, lipstick a little smudged. You did your best to pull yourself back together before you exited the bathroom and rejoined the Camerons, who were all gathered in the living room now, Rafe included, Iris on his lap.

“Where have you two been?” Ward asked, completely oblivious. “You missed half the game,” he directed towards Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes darted to yours, smirk still on his lips as he took a sip of his beer. You were grateful you were saved from having to answer when one of whatever teams were playing scored a touchdown, stealing Ward’s attention away entirely.

You didn’t miss the knowing look Sarah gave you, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head with a laugh. You felt your cheeks heating.

When Rafe brought you home, Iris had already passed out. She slept soundly in her car seat as Rafe drove through the dark island, music playing softly from the truck’s speakers to not disturb her rest.

He reached a hand over and rested it on your thigh. You stared at his hand, unsure what to do, until you dropped your hand atop his and interlinked your fingers together. Rafe smiled, looking more content than you’d seen him for most of his life.

“Seriously, thank you for coming,” he said as he put the truck in park in your driveway. He still held your hand as he turned to look at you. “I know it’s still weird, trying to figure out how to…do things, how to…co-parent. But I’m glad we can get along and be a family without her having to be with one or the other.”

You smiled softly at the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad, too. I had a good time.”

Rafe smirked at you then. “Yeah? You had a good time with me?”

You felt yourself blushing - you had meant the whole event, but admittedly that had been the best part. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

Rafe laughed as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your lips. The biggest part of you loved it, still cherished every opportunity to be affectionate with Rafe, to feel any part of him, to be close to him. But a small part of you wished he wouldn’t do things like this anymore because all it did was confuse feelings and make things complicated all over again. You didn’t like the way your heart fluttered in your chest as your ex boyfriend kissed you in the darkness of his truck.

When he pulled away, he looked at you like he could tell what you were thinking about. He looked almost apologetic, although he didn’t regret it. He never regretted the things you did together.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” you told him, knowing it’s Rafe’s weekend with your daughter.

He nodded. “I’ll be here. Do you want me to carry her inside?”

You thought about it. You didn’t want to inconvenience him, but that carrier was heavy as hell now that she had grown so much. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Rafe hopped out of the truck without a complaint, reaching into the backseat to unlock her carrier and lift it from the car seat base. He followed you to the door as you let the three of you inside.

JJ was gone, spending Thanksgiving with the pogues. You had planned to go, too, before Rafe asked you about spending the holiday with his family. You felt a little bad that you didn’t get to spend it with your twin brother, but you knew he understood and probably didn’t even care.

Rafe carefully unbuckled his sleeping daughter from her seat. She snuggled into his chest and he rested his large hand on her back, rocking her gently so she’d stay asleep. You trailed after him as he walked to the nursery and laid her in her crib.

Back in the hallway with Iris’ bedroom door closed, you both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

“JJ probably isn’t coming back tonight,” you blurted out, not even sure why you said it.

But Rafe’s face lit up, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah? You’re alone for the night?”

You blushed, looking down at your feet to work up the courage for what you say next. “I don’t have to spend it alone.”

Rafe’s smirk only grew as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as you giggled. His lips came down to press against yours again, and you didn’t care about your relationship status, or whether you belonged together, or how much you loved him despite telling yourself you didn’t. All that mattered was that he was here now, and he was yours for the night.

You were thankful for that, at least.

[defnotriri]

villain and violent, infant and innocent.

|| POST-WAR! TOUYA TODOROKI X READER||

smut, hurt/comfort,

UNEDITED / UNREVISED !

warnings: he lives on as touya, he lives in the todoroki estate, pet names (baby, ma, brat) , needy touya, shoto makes an appearance at the end..

When you and Touya get intimate, it’s usually in doggy style. So when you ask him to do missionary for the first time, he hesitates.

“uh- you sure we can’t just do it from the back?” he scratches the back of his head and puts out his cigarette. He sits at the edge of the bed you were lying on and you crawl from behind him, hugging him from the back.

“pleasee Touya, we always do it that way!” You pout and rest your head against the bare skin of his shoulder. It was rough and calloused due to the purple burns on his skin. He placed a hand on your head followed by a sigh.

“fine, brat.” He turns around and places a small kiss on your forehead, you were already in your underwear and he already had his shirt off. He then takes off his joggers and throws them onto the floor.

He kisses you on the lips and it slowly starts to grow passionate and needy. You tangle your hands in his hair as he goes deeper making your back touch the mattress underneath.

Touya kisses your neck as he makes his way to your tits, undoing your bra.

“so gorgeous, ma.” He whispered as he kissed your hardening nipples.

“touya.. i need you.” You shyly say and squirm a bit.

After a while of prepping he finally puts himself inside you.

“ah- fuck, you’re so wet.” His head is looking upward and he places his hands on your hips and starts to thrust. He starts going faster and you notice he still hasn’t looked at you.

You put both your hands on his cheeks and make him look at you, and for the first time ever during sex, you two make eye contact. You give him a soft smile as you moan.

“y-you’re soo beautiful, baby.. a-ah!” You close your eyes and can feel the high coming, but don’t let go of his face. Then all of a sudden his thrusting gets slower then comes to an immediate stop and slips out of you. You feel a warm drop fall onto you and you open your eyes.

A sight to behold, Touya holding his face and looking down. You immediately sit up and make your way to him. Removing the hands from his face you see tears falling down his face. Immediately you take him into a hug.

Your chests are pressed together and your skin was slightly itchy due to his. But you didn’t care. You pushed the back of his head into your neck and kiss his hair lightly.

His whole life he has been invisible, the older he grew more of his skin turns scarred, the more staples he inserted into himself, the more villainous he became. Yet, you didn’t care. You stayed, you saw him, you loved him, you thought he was beautiful.

“do you wanna talk about it?” You say breaking the silence. He shakes his head no and stays silent. You don’t poke at him to tell you. He would talk when he was ready. Your naked bodies stayed holding onto each other.

“i love you.” He says barely above a whisper but you heard him. You always do.

“I love you too, Touya.” You pull back and kiss his lips softly. When you part, you press your forehead against his and smile.

“c’mon let’s go get you some water and maybe even something to snack on.” You giggle as put on a black silky robe. Then picking up his forgotten boxers and joggers. You tried to help him put it on but he wanted to do it himself.

“I’m not a baby.” He sighs as he closes the door to your shared bedroom in the Todoroki house.

“You certainly act like one sometimes.” You smile and intertwine your arm with his. Walking to the kitchen together. Touya sits on the kitchen island stools as you talk about stuff that happened recently while watching you boil some hot water.

As you were about to put the noodle packets in, both of you hear footsteps approaching and turn back to look. You were greeted with a half red and half white haired boy.

“thought you were at the dorms this weekend, sho?” Touya turned around and pouted because your alone time together was interrupted.

“sorry, forgot to tell you guys. i’ll leave you two alone.” The highschooler says and was about to turn and walk out.

“wait! i’m making instant noodles, you want some?” you politely ask your future bother-in-law. He turns back around and nods, taking a seat on the left side of Touya.

They make small talk until you serve them their portions and you sit on the right of Touya. That’s how you three spent the next hour or two.

Talking and laughing while eating noodles, and for the first time ever, Touya felt like he belonged. Like he served a purpose in the world, and it was to make the people he loved smile.

He wasn’t Dabi. He was Touya. He wasn’t a weapon. He was a human. He wasn’t a villain. He was innocent. He was loved.

[saigethearies]

osamu and you leave your daughter with her uncle atsumu for the weekend. chaos ensues.

___

“i woulda felt better leavin’ her with kita or aran.”

you let out a snort at your husband’s statement. “over your own brother? her blood relative?”

you and osamu were driving to a weekend getaway in the mountains. while the two of you were excited for a break and some quality time, there was no denying that there was some apprehension in the car.

it was the first time you’d be away from your baby daughter. as great as a vacation sounded, it would be a lie to say the two of you weren’t reluctant to go.

in order to ease your nerves, a suitable babysitter was chosen.

only osamu didn’t have a lot of faith in your choice.

“exactly, he’s ma brother, so ‘m the only one who understands just how much of ‘n idiot he truly is.”

“but you saw how happy he was to offer to watch her! atsumu loves being a uncle, he won’t half-ass taking care of her. besides, if he ends up needing help your mom is just a call away.”

“ma’s hostin’ her book club this saturday, she can’t just drop everythin’ if tsumu’s dumbass ends up needin’ help.”

you let out a sigh. “samu, just try and relax. i’m sure everything over on his end is fine.”

____

“COURT BABY! COURT BABY! COURT BABY!”

hinata and bokuto chanted as they watched your daughter crawl across the shiny floor of the msby practice gym.

having grown tired of the play mat and toys her uncle atsumu had laid out for her, the little one decided exploring her surroundings would be far more exciting.

“she’s crawlin’ earlier than most babies would,” atsumu chimed proudly. “must’ve got ma athlete genes.”

sakusa rolled his eyes from behind the fake blonde.

“she’s really going fast! let’s time her to see how quick she can move!” hinata suggested, fascinated by the little human on the ground.

“we’re supposed to be doing passing drills-“

“GREAT IDEA HINATA!” bokuto shouted.

“i give up,” the masked brunette said, moving to sit down on the bleachers since apparently no one was going to actually bother to follow instructions.

atsumu smirked while watching his teammates fawn over his niece. he knew it would be a good idea to just bring her to friday practice. the vibe for fridays was always a little more laid-back, and he knew having a cute little baby around would earn him brownie points with his excitable teammates. who didn’t love babies?

his brown eyes shifted over to sakusa momentarily, who was gazing at his niece with a look of disdain on his face.

okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy kids, but the rest of the team sure did!

“hey hey hey, baby miya! let’s see how quick you can crawl to your uncle tsum-tsum!”

atsumu grinned, moving to kneel on the ground so he can encourage his niece to move towards him. seeing the familiar face of her uncle- who shared a face with her father- had her happily babbling away as she pushed towards him.

“awe, she’s trying to talk!” hinata cooed, lip wobbling as he watched the precious exchange.

“alright, everyone,” a voice boomed. everyone turned to see a muscular figure with a head of spiky black hair enter the gymnasium.

“your coach asked me to come over to ensure you boys were actually practicing,” iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer stated. “i have some specific stamina exercises i want everyone to participate in. we’re gonna start by-“

movement in the lower peripheral of iwa’s vision caught his attention and the former ace found his gaze turning toward the floor.

“…why the hell is there a baby here?”

“don’t fuckin’ curse in front’a ma niece!”

“you just- nevermind,” iwa grunted, trying to be as patient as possible considering there was a literal infant present.

slotting his clipboard into the junction of his shoulder, the athletic trainer bent down to gently pick up your daughter. balancing her on his hip as if he’d done it a million times before, he turned back to the team.

“alright, jumping jacks and high knees, i want those heart rates getting up!”

before atsumu could open his mouth, iwa shot him a pointed look.

“i’ll hold your niece, miya, now get moving.”

the squeaking of shoes against the linoleum floor began to sound off. after ensuring everyone was properly following his instructions, he turned to the baby in his hold.

everyone knew iwaizumi was tough, but few knew how much of a complete softie he could be at times. giving your daughter a small smile, he lifted his hands to wave his fingers at her, to which she smiled back and tried to mimic his movements.

he let out a light laugh. “motor skills coming along there, i see-“

“iwaaaaa-chaaannnnn,” a voice sounded off from behind him.

iwaizumi froze. that voice, that stupid nickname, he knew it from anywhere. he began to turn his head to look behind him, gradually as if he was moving in slow-motion.

there was no way…

“guess who flew all the way from argentina to surprise you with his presence,” oikawa boasted as he stepped into the room. “that’s right, me-“

the seijoh grad fell silent as his chocolate colored eyes fell on the small human in his best friend’s hold.

oikawa blinked once. twice. three times. then-

“since when did you have a kid?”

“tooru, this isn’t-“

“how could you keep this from me?”

“will you please just-“

“a whole child? when?”

“shittykawa just shut up-“

“STOP CURSIN’ IN FRONT’A HER!”

“-and listen to me for a second!”

oikawa finally stopped his tirade, moving towards iwaizumi to study the baby in his arms. he bent down to be eye level with her, the both of them staring at each other curiously.

the brunette hummed to himself, reaching a finger out to poke your daughter’s cheek. “she doesn’t look like you.”

“wow, what an observation, it’s almost like she’s not my kid.”

“then who’s is she-“

“she’s my niece,” atsumu growled out, pushing oikawa away from the baby he was prodding at. he fixed the other man with a glare, well aware of who he was and what position he also played. the fact that this potential rival thought he could casually touch his flesh and blood had the fake blonde heated. “i’m takin’ care’a her for the weekend, which means i ain’t letting no lesser setter lay’a hand on her.”

“lesser setter?”

“oh boy,” iwa said, moving away from the two ego-fueled players. he could tell they were about to scuffle and he couldn’t let a baby be anywhere near that.

placing your little girl safely to the side, iwa crouched in front of her, sounds of “never saw ya at spring nationals” and “let’s see what your stats are, huh?” airing in the background.

“you stay right here, i’m gonna go get them to knock it off.”

standing a few meters away from all the chaos, sakusa watched as iwaizumi tried to wrench the two setters apart. sighing, he shifted his gaze to your daughter sitting unattended on the ground, babbling at nothing in particular.

sakusa grimaced. he really didn’t like babies. they were so…germy. and gross. but, he supposed the babies themselves couldn’t really help that fact. it wasn’t their fault they were so little and had such new immune systems.

a shadow then loomed over your daughter, bokuto and hinata standing over her. now that iwaizumi was too distracted to lead them in workouts, the two’s attention was back on the infant.

“i know!” bokuto exclaimed. “let’s do passing drills with baby miya! we can pass her back and forth to each other!”

“she’ll feel like she’s flying! like she’s a little crow!”

“or an owl!”

“you two will be doing absolutely no such thing with this child,” sakusa interjected, scooping your daughter up and going to sit down on the bench with her.

“but ki-“

“no.”

he wasn’t a fan of babies, but considering your daughter’s uncle was currently holding oikawa in a headlock, sakusa figured he could keep an eye on her for just a few minutes. it wouldn’t be too much longer before iwa finally decided he’d had enough and smacked the shit out of both of them.

hearing a little gurgle from below him, the brunette cast his eyes downwards. your daughter’s sight was transfixed on him, a smile coming onto her face when she saw she had the spiker’s attention.

from behind his mask, sakusa felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

okay, maybe babies were a little cute.

[hypewinter]

Dick stared out at the snowy landscape past the window before turning back to his new baby brother. Danny was sitting in his high chair, happily munching away at some Cheerios. Looking at him now Dick thought back to how he had come to Wayne Manor just a few months prior.

Bruce had stormed into the Manor after coming back from a Justice League mission with a bundle in his hands. Dick who had stopped by the manor to steal food catch up with Alfred had been thoroughly thrown off by his father's open animosity. He could hardly recall the last time he'd seen Bruce this outwardly furious. The man's glare alone could rival Darkseid's omega beams. As Bruce sat down at the table, the two men finally got a good look at just what he was carrying. It was an infant. An infant who was fast asleep, his soft black hair falling over his eyes. Bruce quietly asked Alfred to prepare a room as well as all necessities needed for a baby. The old butler had immediately set off to just that.

Meanwhile Dick was quick to ask what had happened but Bruce didn't say. Even when the others gradually found what was happening and asked their own questions, he still refused to answer. Not even Alfred had been told where the baby had come from. The only information Bruce had offered up was that the baby's name was Danny and he would be staying at the Manor from now on. As for the rest of the details, he claimed he would tell them in due time. But Batman's "due time" was often too late to actually do anything about it so desperate for answers, the family had turned to their own investigations only to come up with nothing.

All files related to Danny were locked behind a mountain of firewalls and Oracle had apparently already been sworn to secrecy by the big man himself. Whatever it was, Bruce wanted absolutely zero interference, so for now, the family was forced to sit in their hands.

That led till now, 5 months later. It was mid-January and Dick was on babysitting duty. Everyone else was either out running errands or on a mission. Not that Dick minded though. Danny was incredibly cute and he loved taking care of him. Besides, it gave him the perfect opportunity to get Danny to see him as the favorite brother. Still, Dick couldn't help but feel couped up today. Maybe it was because it had been snowing the last few days leaving both boys alone in the giant manor all day long.

Dick stared wistfully out the window once again before an idea dawned on him. He turned back to Danny who had stuffed the last of the Cheerios into his mouth along with his entire hand.

"Hey Danny. Wanna have a snow day?" he asked cheerily. The boy cocked his head at Dick, hand still in mouth. Dick smiled wider. "I'll take that as a yes!"

Dick hoisted Danny out of his high chair and carried him upstairs to his room. After he set Danny down in his crib, he grabbed all the gear he needed. He picked out a long sleeve shirt with a cartoon star and big bold letters reading "You're a Star!" He also grabbed long socks, some elastic pants as well as jeans, a scarf, a blue beanie, and a pair of cute little mittens.

It didn't take long for Danny to be fully dressed for the outside elements. Though after Dick finished putting his shoes on, he squirmed a little and made a face.

"I know I know," Dick cooed. "But I'm pretty sure B. would make an exception to his 'no killing rule' if you got sick on my watch."

Dick admired his handy work for a minute (taking dozens of pictures as he did so) before picking his brother up and heading downstairs. After a quick pitstop at the door to grab his own jacket and gloves from the coat rack, he opened the door and greeted the chilly air outside.

Danny giggled as he reached up at the snow while Dick circled around to the side of the manor.

"Bitey! Bitey!" he squealed.

"Yep, Bitey," Dick replied with mild confusion.

Danny would say random things like that sometimes, forcing the world's greatest detectives to put their minds together in order to figure out what he was talking about. One time he just wouldn't stop saying "Em". It took everyone a whole day to realize he was referring to music. And an extra two days to figure out he was specifically referring to pop music.

Oftentimes he would call Barbara "Jazzy" and Duke "Tuck". On occasion he would even call Cass "Sammy". Every time he called something a new name, it was a race to figure out what he meant. Each time they figured out a new word, Bruce's face would darken and he'd disappear off to the Watchtower for the day. Something that was really starting to drag on Dick's nerves. It was like it was physically impossible for that man to share information.

Dick was startled out of his thoughts by a tug at his jacket and looked down to see Danny staring at him.

"Sorry sorry," he said with a smile. "Lost in my thoughts. Forgive me?"

Danny put on a pout but Dick knew by now that it was fake. One could tell by the mischievous look in the boy's eyes that he just couldn't hide. "So be it then!" Dick declared before pulling Danny close and snuggling into him. The boy shrieked as cold nose touched warm neck. "Fo-give! Fo-give!" he cried.

"Aw thanks," Dick said as he pulled away. Danny giggled again, his bright blue eyes crinkling with laughter.

The pair walked around in the snow for a bit longer before Danny started making grabby hands towards the ground. "You want down?" Dick asked. Danny nodded energetically.

"Alright."

Dick carefully set Danny down in the snow. The boy excitedly wriggled before putting his hands down to the snow. As Dick watched, there was a burst of light and suddenly there was a semi circle of ice, radiating out from their position. Dick stared at the ice in shock. Danny turned and blinked up at Dick, almost as if he were in shock too. But he very quickly went back to playing in the snow. Dick swallowed. Sure they all knew Danny had powers. It was pretty obvious when the third day there, he floated up to the ceiling. Still though, he highly doubted ice powers was up there on anyone's list of "abilities our new baby brother might manifest next."

Dick was so shocked all he could manage to utter was, "Huh. That's new."

[mrsrookhunt]

What to Expect When Your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula

PART TWO, PART THREE

A continuation (Mini fic Ver.) fic of what I made for Rook, HERE

| Synop.: You and your lab partner make a mistake in your potion, one that comes out looking strangely like it's related to you.. |

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Floyd Leech, Sebek Zigvolt, (Rook Hunt) x MC

Warnings: Suggestive (Floyd), Angst (Sebek), implied light manipulation (Malleus)

Scroll Farther Alert! There's a narration cut for the second part of each fic after the first portion. Don't miss it! Each ends with fluff. Sebek's is long, fair warning.

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You're trying to make a simple transformation potion, aging up a tadpole to a frog, when you add the wrong ingredient, and use one drop too many on the poor tadpole. The result is a child that looks eerily like the two of you...

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Holy-- great sevens, Azul, is that a child??"

He holds it up a foot away from him, equally baffled.

"Don't ask me! You're the one who insisted on using the wrong ingredients!"

"You were the one who picked those--"

"WAHHHHHH--" The baby flails its arms and fusses at your petty squabbles.

You turn your attention back to the small creature, looking disoriented from being held so far away from any solid ground.

Azul's watching too, as the child seems to scold you both with an oddly knowing glare that could kill.

You've seen that glare before--

"Azul, am I crazy, or does that thing look like you??"

"Weh." It motions towards you as Azul looks over it.

"Gracious, so it does. And it looks like you too. Look at its' nose and eyes."

You come closer to look, but the baby seems intent on having you hold it, squirming out of Azul's hands.

"Ahem, I believe the little one wants you--"

He pushes the wiggly baby into your arms, taking the moment to reposition his glasses, which had slid down with nervous sweat.

"I'll go talk to professor Crewel, there is undoubtedly something he can do about this."

Malleus Draconia

"Child of man! What is that you're holding?"

"Um... it was supposed to be a frog...."

Malleus takes it from you, holding it cautiously. The little baby he holds has soft black hair, slit-pupiled eyes the same color as yours, and suspiciously familiar shorter horns. It coos at him and motions to his horns with curious, grabby hands.

"Whatever we did, we must have touched it at the same time, Tsunotarou... Because it looks like a mix of both of us."

He puts it on the back of his neck with his arms up to support the chubby infant as it grabs at his horns.

"Hm. It's quite cute, Child of man. We can keep it in Diasomnia if Ramshackle doesn't have the capacity to care for it."

You stare on in disbelief.

"It's... its a frog with a transformation potion... we can't keep it, Malleus!"

He frowns, taking the infant down from his shoulders and cradling the small bundle to his chest.

"The potion had birch seed in it. The transformation is permanent; so I don't see a reason to get rid of it."

Malleus smiles, tickling its chubby cheeks.

"There's no way it's totally permane-- Wait. Didn't you have me add some of those ingredients? Did you know this would happen?"

Malleus is suspiciously silent.

"Malleu--"

"I'll go ask professor Crewel if there's a reversal." He sighs, handing the baby to you and moping all the way to the desk.

Lilia Vanrouge

"If you wanted a baby, precious, you could've just asked--"

You nearly slap him. So cocky, when there's a baby that looks suspiciously like you and Lilia on the table where a grown frog should be.

"Sevens, Lilia, this is not the time--"

He chuckles.

"In my defense, I told you not to use a sprig of pine."

You splutter, lost for words and flustered. The baby certainly seems to share Lilia's sense of humor, giggling mischievously at your flustered expression.

You pick it up before Lilia can, determined to barge straight into professor Crewel's office if you had to to get an answer on what this thing was.

"Heh, MC, the baby's smiling at you--" Lilia calls from a distance. You look down and find that the baby is indeed wholeheartedly excited that you're paying it attention, reaching its chubby arms up to feel your face and grab your nose.

"Aww.. so cute," You whisper, blowing a stray breath into its face for amusement.

"I heard that!" Lilia shouts from the table. "Don't go getting too attached now. I'm not raising another child, darling."

"Shush! I'm taking it to the professor right now, you have nothing to worry about."

Floyd Leech

"SHRIMPY, CAN WE KEEP IT---"

Floyd is whirling the baby around in excited twirls.

It's a very cute moment, but you're still baffled at the little creature's existence-- since it very much didn't exist about 10 seconds ago.

"Floyd, I'm pretty sure that's just an oversized tadpole..."

He stops in mock offense, thrusting the baby into your face.

"Does this look like a tadpole to you?? Unless you're suggesting that we both look like tadpoles, in which case, I'm taking offense because this baby looks like us."

He puts it down to play with its tiny legs.

"Look, shrimpy! It's going for a walk--" He pauses to think. "A sky walk!!" And continues to make the little one's legs 'walk'.

While Floyd is busy making baby noises to amuse the child, you're panicking. This potion had birch seed-- an ingredient known to make transformation potions permanent, if you remembered correctly.

"Floyd, c'mon, give it here, we need to take this to profess--"

"NOO we'll keep it!!!" Floyd holds the baby tight to his chest. "It's wayyy too cute!"

You pry the baby from him reluctantly.

"We cannot just keep a child, Floyd, it's not an animal--"

"If you take this one I'm just gonna make another one!!" He cries, moving to grab another tadpole from the tank.

"NO NO NO NO FLOYD--"

"Well don't take my little sea-star then!!"

You sigh.

"I'm almost 100% sure this is permanent anyway, but neither of us are in a position to care for this baby. We might as well take it to the professors and see if they can do something. We can't just hide the fact that we accidentally made a baby for our final project anyway---"

He mutters something about 'could've made a baby other ways, but it had to be the boring way', but allows you to go with the little one, who coos in your ear.

You hear a clatter.

"GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THE TADPOLE TANK, FLOYD--"

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human, explain. Explain----"

The baby bites his finger, which apparently was pointing at it too close for its liking.

"Ouch--! What do you think you're doing, little tyke? Do you think that just because you're an infant that you have an excuse to bite a retainer of the great Waka-sama??"

The baby looks blankly at him.

"You can't scold a baby, Sebek." You scoffed, bouncing the child on your hip.

"Fine! But you still have to explain why this child has my hair and eyes and....-- isn't that your nose?" He looks momentarily horrified as he comes to the conclusion you came to minutes earlier.

"Oh NO NO NO NO MC THAT IS NOT OUR CHILD, TELL ME THAT CREATURE ISN'T OURS--"

"For goodness sake Sebek you're shouting right in our baby's ear--"

"'OUR'?? THAT IS NOT 'OUR' ANYTHING, THAT IS YOUR POTIONOLOGY MISTAKE AND NOTHING MORE--"

He's babbling nearly incoherently at this point, and you have to stop the baby from attempting to bite him again out of what you can only assume is annoyance.

"...I would NEVER have a child with a lowly, magicless human, this CANNOT get out---"

"waah...wEHHHHHHHH"

Sebek stops talking for a moment, ears ringing.

You, too, are shocked.

"Sebek.. if it's not your child then I have ANOTHER auditory atrocity of a person to avoid on this planet."

"..."

"I'm taking it to professor Crewel."

"I think that's wise."

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You/ your lab partner take the child to professor Crewel, who determines that it is in fact a permanent transformation, and that biologically the baby is as much yours as any other naturally born to the two of you.

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Azul Ashengrotto

"Are... you ok, Azul? You've been staring into space for a... ahem, awhile."

The baby crawls around the the VIP Room of Mostro Lounge, bumping into walls. You suspect it may need glasses.

Surprisingly, the baby seems well-tempered, unless you have the misfortune of holding it the wrong way or otherwise inconveniencing it, to which it seems highly irritated.

However, it was one 'just like your father' comment that sent the already figity Azul into an unresponsive state.

"Was, um.. was that too soon?" You ask tentatively.

"..Yes.. yes, I think it was." He responds distantly.

"Azul, it's gonna be ok. We'll figure it out." You get up from the floor to hold his hand.

He meets your gaze, eyes sharp and calculating.

"Yes, of course we'll be fine, how could we not be? Finances are no issue and we could always hire a babysitter and.... well, it's not that. It's just a lot to take in."

"Today's been wild," You agree softly, gently picking up the baby to put it in his lap. "But I'm here for you."

You lean down to the baby's level.

"We're here for you, little one."

Malleus Draconia

"I still CANNOT believe you knew, Malleus--"

You're still squabbling with him pointlessly, even though the damage is already done. You can honestly say you've well warmed up to the baby, and Malleus seems to be doing worse than you on the details, having apparently very little idea how to care for a child other than playing with it.

"I'm sorry, Child of Man. I didn't know it was permanent," He insists calmly, but you don't quite believe that.

You sigh. He can act clueless as long as he'd like, but the overly exuberant smile on his face while interacting with your child says more than words.

He picked up the baby and put it down on his bed, already having sewn little, special pillows for the baby to sleep comfortably with its horns.

"You better be a good dad, you hear me?" You say, less threatening that you thought it would come out.

He beckons you over to the bed to lay down next to your baby.

"I will, Child of Man, I promise."

Lilia Vanrouge

You knock on his dorm room door, baby on your hip.

"So..um.. bad news, Lilia... it's perman-- Are you having a party?"

He shoos out at least 10 members of Diasomnia.

"I know, dear. Unfortunately I didn't realize what you had done in time to stop you. So I was having a little 'last moments of freedom party'. How sad, and Silver was essentially all grown up now.. Well, what's another 16 years?"

You're speechless. You had kind of forgotten that he was Silver's adoptive father.

"I'm... sorry, Lilia, I should've payed closer attention to the instructions and I screwed up--"

"Hush, it's fine. It's not the end of the world."

He takes the baby from you.

"I already brought in an old cradle and some food for our little one, see?"

He points out an old wooden crib next to his bed.

"Wow... you're.. so prepared, and I haven't even thought about that stuff.."

He smiled at you, nuzzling the baby's cheek a few times simultaneously.

"I'll admit, it got me a little excited. I didn't think an old man like myself would get the chance to raise a child of my own flesh and blood. But never say never, I suppose. You have nothing to worry about, precious. What you don't know, I have already experienced."

"...Thank you for being so understanding, Lilia."

"Of course, dear, after all, we're a family now."

Bonus the one stipulation is that you will not and will not ever share the cooking duties with him. Silver makes you swear by it to avoid his own childhood traumas for his younger siblings.

Floyd Leech

You brace yourself for the inevitable flurry of excitement before knocking on Floyd's door.

"WHERE'S MY LITTLE SEA STARRRRRR~~~~" You hear from the other side of the door before the door flies open. You hand the baby off to Floyd, who's more than ecstatic.

"It's permanent," you sigh, hoping he's listening. "We have to take care of the baby now--"

"WheeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE" Floyd runs back and forth across the small room with the child, making faces all the while.

"Floyd!" You scold, finally breaking his stride.

"Ehh? I hear you, shrimpy, how can I not? It's ok, I have a plan. We'll love this baby with our whole hearts!"

"...That's the plan?"

"I spent two hours thinking of it, do you like it?"

"That child cannot stay here," A smooth voice cuts in. "This room is much too small for the two of us, let alone a third."

"Oh, hey Jade, didn't see ya come in," Floyd remarks casually. "And obviously I've thought of that. The baby will live in Ramshackle, because there's more space. It just needs some touch ups to be babyproof, is all."

"Touch-ups? It needs a whole remodel."

Floyd grins.

"Got an idea, shrimpy. Transfer to Octavinelle! Then the baby can share a room with you and we'll all be nearby!"

"Oh forget it, I'm asking Crowley to help me improve Ramshackle. Until then, you'll have to deal with the living arrangements." You put your hands on your hips and give Jade a look that means you'll raise hell if he doesn't agree to you and Floyd's half-baked plans.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt, so long as it was temporary."

"YESSSSS!!!!!"

Floyd's excitement leads to him jumping on you.

"D'ya hear that, Shrimpy? That means you can stay here too. And we'll be one big happy family."

Sebek Zigvolt

"Sebek?" You gently knock on his door, after having been told he'd been doing nothing but pacing around all evening.

"Sebek," you call again, a bit louder.

The door swings open violently.

"What?? Who dare disturb my-- oh. Human." He ushers you into his room swiftly.

"You still have the child? When does it leave?" He asked quickly.

"It doesn't," You said bluntly, putting down the freshly bathed and swaddled bundle onto his bed.

"Don't touch----! Ugh.. Besides... What do you mean, 'it doesn't'? It's leaving, I will not have that thing associated with the Zigvolt name just because of some lowly human's stupid mistakes!"

If you weren't so exhausted, you would be shouting at a decibel rivaling his own.

"Sevens, Sebek, it's permanent, no way around it. I can't go back in time and change this-! You were the one reading off the ingredients anyway, how dare you blame this on me?" You challenge.

"Ah-ahh.. Well, why didn't you check yourself?? Do I need to do everything for you!?" He crossed his arms.

"No, but you do need to do your task, and competently!"

That seemed to shut him up.

"W-whatever. I cannot be a proper retainer to--"

"Fine. Then don't raise the baby at all, I'll take care of it. I never said you had to involved."

"...I.. Human, I didn't say that." His tone seems to soften. You know he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders in his mind but you still find it hard to excuse his poor behavior.

He sits down next to the baby, picking it up at arms length.

"It's cute, just a bit. But I pity it.. it has even less faerie blood than me."

"Is that the heart of this?" You question gently, knowing it's a sore subject.

"Yes, I suppose so.."

"Sebek. Your heritage doesn't define you, and it won't define our child. You are an amazing, devoted person, and you've worked hard to be the person you are, and that's really all that matters. You have no reason to be upset, or worried. We can make this work, I promise. And I promise that I'll there to help you get through this. That is, if you're willing to."

He sighs, taking your hand.

"I fear I am diluting my sullied bloodline more than it already is. The Zigvolt family works with the royal family as their right-hand consults and guards. It's been that way for generations. But who would want a fae so adulterated with human genetics by their side?"

"I don't think that's true. If you really think that's the case, then why is Silver allowed to train as a protector as well? Malleus and Lilia are equally respectful of you both. You don't have to give up your family's title and honor just because of this."

He stiffens, a proud smile on his face.

"You are right, human! I shall not let this get the best of me. I will raise my child to be as dutiful as me!"

You laugh, relieved that he's warming up to the idea of having a family.

You kiss him on the forehead, giving him a hug that encompasses the baby in the middle.

"I'll work hard at being a good father, I swear on it."

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-June 30th, 2023

-Kaori

[reallyromealone]

This request is random and it’s all up to you if you want to write it

So say muzan makes the upper six to watch over his infant son and I’d imagine it be chaotic

Like baby reader cries whenever akaza carries him, hates doma and throws his toys at him, maybe his enjoy chasing hantengu (which would lead to hantengu to run away crying), maybe gyokko would teach baby reader about art, maybe for gyutaro he’d be a decent care taker while daki is confused on how to take care of baby reader and kokushibo is baby reader baby reader favorite person and likes to be carried by kokushibo

This is totally up to you if you want to write it

Ohohohoobnonoo

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

Muzan was a very attentive father despite himself, his son; his /heir/ was his world.

(Name) was precious and perfect, given anything he could desire in the world.

An absolute papas boy.

So when the moons had to watch the little bundle...

It was a nightmare.

"WAAAAAAH!" (name) screeched as tears rolled down his face, smacking the demon angrily as his barely present fangs bit at Akaza, not harming the demon in the slightest.

"Please behave, our Lord will be home soon!" He tried soothing the babe who wailed louder.

Doma was treated no better though instead of crying it was violence.

"Please little Lord, I just wanna be your friend~" Doma said playfully as he shook a raddle infront of the little one who looked absolutely furious that he cult leader was touching his rattle "ABABABA!" He screeched and smacked his hands against the tatami mat and the blond cooed but glared when a stuffed toy hit him "that's very rude little lord~" Doma said and lifted (name) who immediately tugged at his hair with force "why are you so full of hate~!" He said with almost sadness in his voice "I'm the best one here!"

"Dada!"

"He's gone right now little one!"

(Name) was /facinated/ by hantengu and followed him around everywhere, Shakey little feet as the upper moon tried to get away from the little one, tiny Muzan picking up speed wit his waddles as the poor demon tried running away.

And that's when they learned little (name) could crawl on walls.

"GET AWAY!" He said anxiously and (name) made loud happy baby noises.

Gyokko looked fond as the little one finger painted, messy and colorful and proudly showed it to the other, it was a mess but he could see a vague shape of Lord Muzan based on the black blob with little red eyes.

"Very good little one" (name) beamed at the praise.

Gyotaro was an excellent care taker, soothing the little babe for his nap as Daki played dress up, she wasn't sure how to care for a baby having never had done so but she always thought infant clothes were precious, the siblings watching him as he sleeped on a blanket.

But out of all the moons, (name) always prefered Kokushibo who sat in silence reading as (name) sat in his lap drinking his bottle, the demon glancing down as the babe pat his arm "do you wish for me to read to you?"

"Ababa..."

"Very well..." Kokushibos voice was deep and relaxing to the boy, reminding him of his papa in a way and Kokushibo was reminded of his own children with (name).

Rarely did he think of them but occasionally he wondered what lives they led.

He wondered what life (name) would lead.

The babe sneezed and Kokushibo was confused as a daisy bloomed from the tatami mat.

Well then.

[stardusksx]

ೀ⋆｡ ˚ TIME TO BEGIN AGAIN remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: after the death of lily & james, reader and remus navigate their broken relationship while raising harry potter.

gif not mine, credits to the creator <3

warning: sad & angsty but there is a happy ending! idiots in love?? talks of death and grief, past miscommunication, hurt/comfort, friend to lovers, fade to black at the very end but nothing explicit!

( word count : 1.89k )

Silver moonlight bled through the windows, illuminating the tears on her cheeks and setting one-year-old Harry Potter’s eyes ablaze. He stared up at her, gaze wide like his small body had finally succumbed to the shock. She swayed back and forth to soothe him, her heart heavier than concrete, sound of his now silenced screams still ringing in her ears.

Down the hallway, she could hear muted voices. Albus Dumbledore's sombre words were incoherent to her, but she didn’t care what he was saying— what anyone was saying. She'd arrived a matter of fifteen minutes ago, burned under their sympathetic gazes, and fell apart at the confirmation of what she had hoped was a cruel, cruel, joke. Then her eyes had landed on midnight hair and a blue baby grow, the toddler squirming in Mcgonagall's arms as hysterical cries bellowed from his lungs. She’d taken him from her, cradled him close, and wordlessly walked down the hallway to Lily and James' vacant room.

She couldn’t whisper it’s okay, couldn’t get any words of reassurance out even if the infant was the only one who would be able to judge if they were truthful or not. It was like she hadn’t had air in her lungs since the phone call— it felt like nothing would be worth the effort it took to breathe again.

Lily and James were good. They were everything that a person should be, and they were gone.

“I’ve got you.” She managed to murmur, because she did— it was the one true thing she could say to offer comfort, “I promise.”

His head came to rest against her chest, and she could feel the stickiness of his drying tears against her skin. She was remembering the sorting hat placed over coppery hair, the sheepish expression on James’s face after he had accidentally hit her with a crumpled ball of paper— a note he’d been trying to get to Lily, who was sat obliviously beside her. They were so intertwined with every memory of those seven years at Hogwarts that she would never be able to think about her time there without thinking about them.

It had been the best era of her life, now forever tainted, like a spill of ink to pure water. She felt like she’d come crashing to earth after floating through antigravity.

There was shuffling in the hall, and her head snapped towards the doorway.

"Remus." She breathed, voice full of grief. The sight of him sent another wave of despair over her as more tears surfaced and spilled like rain against a window. He was dishevelled and clearly just pulled from sleep, but the redness of his glassy eyes as he stared at her for a frozen moment was enough to tell that he was in the same emotional turmoil she was. Her lip quivered before he finally strode towards her, wrapping his arms around them both. A sob was muffled into his shoulder, and she could feel his tears against the skin of her neck. They'd lost it all tonight.

"Oh god." His voice was raw, broken, as he said her name, "Oh god."

She didn’t know how long they held each other, but his arms were the only sense of reprieve she could find— like one of the million elastic bands around her heart had snapped away. She was scared to let go, scared that the one band would tighten around her again and squeeze until she gave out.

She hadn’t seen Remus since graduation. They’d had a stupid argument— stubborn colliding with stubborn, neither one of them wanting to admit to their wrongs. She had called him careless, stupid. It was harsh, but when she’d heard he was in the infirmary from a prank gone wrong, her panic had made her irrational. Why do you care so much? He had spat back when he realised she hadn’t been joking— when he realised she was actually mad. As soon as he’d said it, he really did feel stupid for instituting that she did care that deeply for him. For insinuating it like he didn’t want her to care, like he hadn’t been wishing for her to care like that since first year.

Well, forgive me, her last words to him had been, sarcastic and punctuated with a glare that she hoped would hide the way her heart was hurting, next time I’ll be sure to not give a fuck, Remus.

He’d felt too ashamed to approach her, and she’d felt too raw from the way it had been as if all her vulnerable feelings towards him had been forcefully exposed and thrown back at her with a sneer.

Come on, Sirius had said her name softly after it had been weeks, you know he didn’t mean it that way.

Then he shouldn’t have said it. She’d responded, shoving her papers into her bag and exiting the dining hall. He shouldn’t have said it like she didn’t have a right to care about him. Not when her heart had been in her throat at the sight of his bandages, voice wobbling when she’d asked if he was okay.

Yeah, he’d responded, having the nerve to grin, it was worth it for—

She was worked up. When Dorcas had come to get her, she’d made it out like he was on his deathbed. She’d been terrified. It was careless, Remus. Are you that stupid—

His eyes had widened in surprise, clearly not expecting her reaction. And so it had happened. They had said things they shouldn’t, then been too stubborn to fix it.

None of that mattered now. “He can’t go to Lily’s sister,” She said, “He just can’t.”

Remus pulled back from her, his hand gently caressing the side of Harry’s face. “He won’t,” he said firmly, “We’re his godparents, he goes to us.”

They had spoken to Dumbledore after they’d finally gotten the toddler to sleep, and the man’s features had pinched in concern. “You’d have to go into hiding,” He said, “He’ll be a target if they find out he’s still alive, as will you— if you aren’t already.”

“Whatever it takes.” She had responded, Remus nodding along.

They found themselves in the middle of nowhere. Some cottage hidden by country side trees while they waited out the war with the death eaters. Harry needed to be held most night, his cries an echo against the darkness after awakening from another nightmare.

She had nightmares too. So did Remus. They started off in separate rooms, but ended up in the same one for comfort. He held her, whispered assurances as they weathered the grief. She did the same for him.

Harry began walking, talking. They laughed again for the first time sitting on the kitchen floor, legs forming a diamond as the little boy attempted to stumble between them. One step, two step. He’d collapsed into her arms, and she’d raised him into the air, their cheers making him squeal.

The way Remus looked at her then— it had made her feel like a schoolgirl again, like she was before all the loss. She had smiled at him, genuinely, then broke his gaze to continue praising Harry.

They took turns cooking. Reminisced. It was less painful to remember things together. Candle light would flicker on the kitchen table, and they’d talk for hours like they used to. Then they’d get into the same bed, sleep in each other's arms as rain pattered against the window.

It didn’t happen straight away. They were too busy with grief, with the hurts from that lingering argument they hadn’t talked about, but eventually, with time, came the healing. Came the capacity to remember what they’d toed the line at those few months before the end of their final year at Hogwarts.

She’d loved him for a long time. She doesn’t remember when she started, but she knows that she hadn’t stopped. Not even for a moment.

Remus? It was sometime in February, the common room empty as the clock struck one in the morning. The fire was spitting embers, tartan blankets draped over laps. You're my favourite thing to come of this, you know?

His head had snapped up from his parchment paper, eyes comically wide, w-what?

She’d grinned slightly at his bewilderment, out of all the things Hogwarts has given me, you're my favourite.

He’d spluttered, and she’d gathered up her homework and headed towards the stairs, tossing a night, Mooney, over her shoulders like she hadn’t left him short of breath. At the breakfast table the following morning, Sirius had been teasing him about something as she sat down. He’d been flushed bright red, swatting the other boy's hands away and harshly whispering to stop it. Sirius had smirked at her, raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she’d told him to sod off with a poor attempt at concealing a smile.

“You're still my favourite.” She says, late into the night as her hands are deep in dish water. Remus freezes, rag hovering over the counters he was polishing. When his head turned to look at her, his eyes were as wide as they had been the last time. She smiles, “You always will be.”

He stares at her, grip on the cloth loosing, before his arm completely falls slack at his side. He takes in a breath, there’s another beat, and he does something he regretted not doing the last time.

With two strides, his hands cradle her face, and he pulls her towards him. Moonlight illuminates them, silver streamers through the kitchen window, and he kisses her like he was always meant to. Her hands fly to his waist, to his shoulders, and she melts into him as if her very bones were liquidated and seeking to be moulded permanently against his shape.

“I love you,” He says it like a promise, “Always. With everything I have.”

The words linger between mingled breaths, chests rising and falling against each other. “You’re my world, Remus. You and Harry. I don’t need anything else but this.”

He takes her hands between them, brings them to his lips. “You have me. I don’t want to be anywhere that you aren’t.”

They crash together again, years and years of unsaid things melded into their movements. They become a tangle of limbs in a bed they’d shared for months now, skin against skin and a shared pleasure that rolled over them like liquid gold.

It should feel wrong— hiding away in this cottage, raising the child of their murdered best friends, praying for the end of a war. But little by little, life begins to take a shape again, starts to feel like there is certainty and purpose. Here with Remus, with Harry, the effort it takes to breathe, to continue, is entirely worth it.

[bing-whoops]

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE CHANGED | DIAVOLO . *. ⋆ ⊹ ౨ৎ˚₊

prologue: "villain and violent, infant and innocent"

꒰ summary ꒱ being friendly with those who lived nearby in your apartment building can come in handy especially while living outside of campus; this is highly recommended if you also have a roommate. Until a nice weekend at the house in the beach ends up with a three dead bodies, a roommate in a cult and — a demon baby?

꒰ pairing ꒱ diavolo x reader

꒰ warnings ꒱ child endangerment, suicide, death, mention of drugs, swearing, and brief vomit scene.

꒰ word length ꒱ 3.4k

꒰ author's note ꒱ this is my first series in general so any comments regarding it (or dm’s) are appreciated and encouraged! I would love to hear you guys' thoughts on it

꒰ MASTERPOST ꒱

The coldness of the night settled in your bones like an old friend. The waves splashed harshly against the boulders that were seen laid at the bottom of the cliffs that adorned the beach where you were currently residing at. The moon was was gleaming with a potency that you hadn’t quite seen before — or maybe you had and just hadn’t had the time to appreciate it as much as you should have.

Perhaps you should have thought more before deciding to take the weekend off in a house in front of the beach. Although, house would be a little bit of a stretch considering it was not only lacking any sort of electricity, but you were sure you had heard rats scurrying around the bathroom.

‘Well, there’s no use lamenting after the payment is done.’ You thought as you continued to lament the money spent to stay here — was this the regret every horror movie character felt after doing something that lacked survival instinct?

You tightened your grip on the jacket that you were currently wearing to try and ward off against the night that seems to become increasingly more freezing as the minutes pass. You shifted around in the medium sized boulder you were currently sitting on, and dragged your knees close to your chest to get more comfortable.

It had been what? Two hours since you arrived? Maybe a little bit more, maybe a little bit less. You didn’t care much either way as this had been the most relaxed you had been in weeks.

Of course just as such thought crossed your mind all of it went down the drain.

You flinched from where you were sitting as a commotion started being heard — above you?

The sand made your frantic attempt at getting away from where you were sitting a little harder than expected, but it could have been just the way that the screams had startled you into action. You warily stepped backwards, inching away from the bottom of the cliff while trying to crank your neck upwards, and narrowed your eyes after seeing flashing blue and red lights coming near the edge.

“The police?” You muttered with resignation, it seems as if a single weekend without anything occurring is too much to ask for, and a little of wariness. What could be the reason for a police car to be here?

The situation became more confusing as shouting erupted once again from the top of the cliff that you was still too close for comfort.

The muscles in your hands tightened as you clenched them after seeing a women with short black hair inch closer to edge of the cliff until you were able to realize what her intentions were. Your eyes widened in fright as dread settled inside your mind as you realized exactly why the police’s shouting seems to become more frantic the closer the woman stepped to the edge.

Are you about to witness a suicide?

No other thought had the time to cross your mind because in the next second the woman stepped backwards and slipped down her doom.

Faster than you could comprehend she crashed close to where you had been sitting less than five minutes ago. The sound that her body made when it finally reached the bottom was the most nauseating noise that you had ever heard (you wish you could wrench it from your memory)

You froze where you stood for a moment before your eyesight finally focused on the blood that was dripping from her forehead onto the sand. This made you quickly approach her unresponsive body and settle as close as you could to her head without actually touching her body in fear of making any injury that she had worse.

The only thing that stopped the automatic thought of her being dead was the pained groans she was still making.

“Hey! hey — I need you to try and stay awake okay?” You tried to frantically say while tripping over your own words while trying to search your pants and jacket for a phone to call emergencies. Only to realize that you had left your phone inside the bedroom after realizing how low the reception was in the area.

Your breathing started picking up the longer it passed. Remembering that you were not the only one that saw this you quickly looked up to see if the police officers could at least indicate what you should do with their speakerphone. Yet surprises did not seem to be ending today because once you looked up you witnessed a baby falling off the cliff in the exact same spot the woman had thrown herself off.

Faster than you could realize your body stood up from where it had been kneeling next to the woman and raised your hand up to your chest in a straight line while bending them slightly; you frantically went through everything that could go wrong trying to catch a baby falling from such height.

Before you could keep stumbling around trying to calculate where the baby would fall your hands buckled as they tried to hold the sudden and harsh weight dropped on them. A yelp almost left your throat as you stumbled to the ground while holding a baby.

The baby that had fallen

The baby that had somehow fallen and not landed on your head and broken it

The baby that did not demolish your arms after falling on them

The baby that was without injury —

It was almost miraculous that there were no visible injuries on the baby that was currently being held on your arms while you still trembled from fright of what had just occurred.

But just because there were no visible injuries didn’t mean that nothing was wrong either. You warily changed the way you were holding the baby to be able to face it and check its face.

Now that you didn’t have to actively worry about someone else trying to free fall off the cliff you observed the odd child that was quietly being held by you. Its hair was an odd reddish color that seemed more bold than any ginger you had ever seen in your life — you were almost willing to believe it was dyed rather than natural.

But even that was nowhere near as startling as her eyes. (He? she? You weren’t sure) The eyes that were staring back at you were the unsettling ones you had ever seen in your life.

For a faltering second you even asked yourself if what you held in your arms was an actual breathing human baby and not a doll.

The eyes’ shape and size was not the problem rather its color was the reason for your momentarily surprise. It was as if somebody had taken gold and melted it in the baby’s eyes. An unsettling color for an unsettling baby. You pursued your lips before quickly beating yourself mentally for focusing on such meaningless description while the woman was still bleeding out — miraculously still alive; the only sign of her condition being the whimpers of pain she was letting out.

“Agh!” A scream startled you as you approached the woman once again. The scream that had left her mouth was louder than any other she had let out since her fall. This did not seem to be a one time occurrence as short scream kept leaving her mouth while you tried approaching her.

You clutched the baby to your chest as you stopped in your tracks less than a step away from leaning down to check on the woman. You weren’t sure why but it seemed as if the more the distance shortened between the two of you the more frightened she seemed.

“Please hang on! The police already called emergencies they’re on the way.” Your words stumbled out of the way in a attempt to comfort the woman that was dying in front of you. But you truly didn’t know if the police had in fact called the ambulance or anybody that could help this women. You had just lied and hoped that it was the truth.

A gurgled sound seemed to leave the woman in the floor. This time in a lower volume.

Cautiously you lowered yourself slowly in fear she would start screaming if you approached too hastily once again.

Another attempt seemed to leave her mouth at speaking yet only indecipherable gurgles were heard. Just as you were about to attempt to stop her from wasting energy trying to speak you watched as her eyes settled on the baby and her face twisted into something ugly.

( Later as you settled down in your bedroom you would chastise yourself for describing a dying’s woman expression as ugly out of all things )

Her lips trembled as her mouth opened and close as if in fear. The woman’s last word would be engraved into your mind for a long while.

Yet they would only make sense months down the line.

“Demon.”

The police were useless.

You had no idea how someone could be so incompetent. You would like to say that you have met a long variety of people with different personality and intelligence in your lifetime; there is not much confidence in you to be able to say you have met people more incompetent than the ones sitting in front of you.

“Is emergencies on their way?” You asked with resignation after leaving the body of the woman on the other side of the beach to be able to speak with the officers inside your house about what you should do next.

The police officers glanced at each other, a cue seemed to be passed between them in that sort second, then at you who was still holding the baby that both of them refused to hold unless necessary.

Both of them felt sympathy towards you, really! But neither of them had ever held a baby before and this situation had escalated from a supposed teenage bonfire party to a dead woman; neither of them felt very confident on the possibility of it getting better.

“Possibly,” One of the police officer commented with a shrug not realizing how nonchalant he was coming off the the college student he was speaking to, “This area is quite far from civilization and getting down here took us a couple of hours it is highly possible they will take even longer.”

Those words caused a sigh to leave your lips. It was not one of exhaustion rather one of annoyance.

The baby you held in your arms was now more energetic; from limply laying in your arms to excitedly playing with the zipper of your jacket and holding onto your arms as tight as he could. Apparently it was also a he.

This what what the police informed you the woman had been using when referring to the child; they had also said that she had screamed about the baby being a demon spawn. So yeah, anything she had said was taken with a grain of salt.

Giggles erupted from the baby in your arms as you took your hand away from his hand. At least someone was having fun today.

“What are we supposed to do then?” You asked the officers after seeing them shuffle unsurely around the house each time they heard a creaking sound resonate around the house.

“You should keep yourself reachable,” The second one piped in as if he was worried you would object, “We will probably have to take that little guy in your arm to the station to find any other family member.”

“Or if there’s any missing babies around this zone…”

“What was that?” You asked with a frown adorning your face. The one who had been interrogating you not too long ago had muttered something incomprehensible that you couldn’t figure out.

After realizing he had been a little too loud the police officer cleared his throat and waved it off. With a quick shake of his hand.

“Nothing! Just thinking about the procedures that will soon take place.”

You warily nodded shifting your weight from one foot to the other keenly aware that neither of them seemed eager to leave or take the baby or deal with the dead body that was probably still rotting and bleeding in the sand after her death.

‘Are they waiting for water to be offered?’ You wondered after seeing the same police officer walk around the very limited space that this house gave you under the reasoning of looking for evidence.

‘Evidence for what? The woman that fell half a kilometer away from here?’ Your annoyance was barely tampered under your self reasoning that this could not last too long and once they left with the baby plus the body everything would settle down.

Deciding to take the initiative you shifted your hold on the baby who was clinging tightly to your jacket and walked closer to the second officer who tensed in nervousness.

“Well officers! Please do contact me if anything comes up that involves me.” You tried to say with some cheer in your voice (who could blame you really? Your pants were still dripping with blood from the woman the officers had not looked thrice at and your palms were still shaky from what had occurred and what could have been)

The reason for this sudden friendliness was to make the baby transaction easier. And it was.

Because as soon as you showed signs of giving the baby over the officer panic clowned his face as once he finally took the baby he held it as far away from his chest as possible with his two arms.

The first officer awkwardly stood around — his hovering did not help soothe anybody’s nerves in this situation.

This silence continued until the radio attached to the pants suddenly received a message that startled the three of you. Not the baby though, he just seemed to hate his new babysitter enough to try and kick himself out of his arms. The baby still held his arms towards you.

Like the professional you were you ignored it and instead discretely (indiscreetly) eavesdropped on what was being communicated.

“… her name was reported to be Laura Bolton.”

Your stomach dropped.

Before you realized you intersected the police officers before they could do what you had been trying to make them do for a while, leave.

“Right — sorry did you just say Laura Bolton?” You asked with cautiousness knowing that there was a possibility of someone sharing a name with your roommate.

“Well that was the name we heard.” The man who was still holding the baby wrong responded.

“I couldn’t quite hear the rest did they describe what she looked like?” You asked with apprehension while trying to keep a smile in your face. It became in readily harder as you realized you didn’t even hear why they had communicated her name through the radio.

“Late twenty’s, approximately six feet tall, white, dark-haired woman.”

That fit the description too well.

“What did she do?” It wouldn’t be the first time your roommate had gone to jail; each time it happened it only made you wish for time to go faster so you could leave that damn apartment complex behind.

“She was found with the woman you saw not too long ago and this baby,” A pause was made as if unsure of what he should say next, “It seemed as if they were doing some sort of — of well religious ritual.”

There’s an odd emphasis on religious.

Why is there an odd emphasis on religious.

‘Oh god.’

You had an epiphany.

‘She joined a cult didn’t she?’ You thought as you stared blankly at the officers who seemed uneasy at the sudden change of atmosphere.

You said your goodbyes to the officer and wished them good luck but your tone was flat in the rest of your interactions.

Perhaps that was why you didn’t pay much attention to the baby in the officer’s arms was still reaching towards you while making grabby hands.

It was a cute sight.

You would have probably tried calming down the baby in any other situation. However, it had been a taxing day.

(And you had no idea how bad it was gonna get)

You roughly pushed the door with annoyance — somehow the hardest part to deal with was opening and closing the door.

You sighed, your hand came up and massaged your forehead. It was an attempt to stop the migraine that usually popped up when you become too stressed.

Your steps caused the wood under your shoe to creak loudly as if demanding you to notice it. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care enough for it at this moment. You headed for the mini bridge you had brought yourself to get a cup of water (or wine, you weren’t feeling too picky)

But once you had opened the bridge and were about to reach for the water bottle a defeating crash was heard outside. There were no screams.

You gazed longingly at the bottle of wine and closed the bridge quietly.

Trying to make as little sound as possible you approached the front window next to the door to gently lift the curtain and sneak a peak outside.

Was it dangerous?

Maybe not.

However a little precaution never hurt anybody.

What you saw was not carnage only because everything had been covered. Your hands let the curtain go as if they had burned you; outside of this little house were supposed to be the police officers. Alive officers.

What you saw was a giant boulder being where the police officers were supposed to be in. You would have thought that they already left had you not seen a grown’s human hand peaking out from under the boulder.

There only seemed to be a survivor.

The baby.

The laughing baby.

You opened the door and wearily looked up the cliff the old lady that had allowed you to rent this house had assured you was as sturdy as cliffs could get. Fear settled in your heart of you also adding to the kill count today. After seeing nothing out of the ordinary you quickly sprinted to where the boulder still stood and grabbed the baby by his stomach and sprinted back inside the house. The baby gurgled with glee as he clapped his hands in excitement. At least someone was having a good time.

You tightened your hold on the baby who already had his finger tightly wrenched in your jacket — a little tighter than you would have thought was possible for a baby.

In the privacy of your mind you wondered whether this child was lucky or unlucky with what had happened today.

Trying to place the baby on the bed did not end well. No matter what you did you couldn’t dislocate his grabby hands from your jacket. As nausea gripped you and didn’t let go you stumbled to the bathroom trying to not have a fourth death in a single night by dropping the baby and promptly threw up.

The baby quieted down after seeing you breathing heavily and simply patted your head.

In the end you went to sleep with a migraine, a nausea filled stomach, and an energetic baby that did not let you out of his sight without throwing a tantrum.

You contemplated the possibility of walking back to a police station and reporting what had happened only for your body to hit you with the worst migraine imaginable. Its pain was enough to make your knees buckled.

Strangely enough it left as soon as it arrived.

While this occurred the baby that had been screaming had quieted down after seeing you hold onto a wall for support.

His unsettling gold-like eyes stared as if they could see through you. Perhaps you would have been more scared had pity not overcome you — this was after all a child whose mothers last word was calling him a demon.

Not the best way to be greeted into this world. You refused to acknowledge the strange way he looked just to avoid the possibility of ending in the same train of thought his mother had after calling him a demon.

Just because he looked different didn’t mean he was the devil’s spawn.

Right?

[infoglitch]

Just a man.

(look, I've been listening to epic: the musical and I can't stop thinking about adult jaune seeing a baby cinder and struggling on whether he should kill her or not. So you all have to suffer now.)

Jaune didn't know how, nor did he care. As he found himself in a room in front of a baby's crib as he saw her. A sleeping baby with burning amber eyes staring at him. The eyes Jaune grew to know, and despise.

He unsheathed crocea mors as he raised it above his head. Blade pointing down, ready to be blunged and end it.

Jaune took a deep breath as after a minute he dropped his sword as it hit the wooden floor. Jaune fell to his knees as he looked at the child. He knew what she would become but-

Jaune: I can't hurt you.. but I want to so badly..

Jaune looked at the baby as he carefully reached in, the infant grasping his finger as she giggled. Jaune almost smiled at the sound as he thought back to a brighter memory.

Jaune laid in bed as he held Ruby close with the red reaper clutching their 5 year old son.

Jaune: he's so.. peaceful, just years ago he was crying his head off.

Ruby: well it's not like a lot can't happen between being 9 months old to 5 years.. makes you remember how much time there is in life.

Jaune: yeah..

Jaune brought a hand towards their son as he combed it through his hair. It was pitch black, with red peppering it.

The young boy stirred slightly as he shoved his head in closer. With Jaune having a warm smile.

Jaune: he's going to be a great man.. I can already tell.

Ruby: well, his parents are two huntsmen sooo..

Jaune: id more say his parents are a novice huntsman and exceptional huntress but.. sure thing rubes.

Jaune stared at the infant before carefully picking her up and cradling her.

Jaune: I should.. I should hate you with every fiber of my being, every ounce of my soul.. but you.. I can't.. I know why I should.. you grow up into.. her. But you're just a girl, an innocent child.. you almost look like..

Jaune pressed against the wall before sliding down onto the floor, sitting. He crossed his legs and began stroking the infant's head.

Jaune couldn't tell if he was holding the woman whose neck he wanted to wrap his hands around and watch the light leave her eye.. or a daughter.

Jaune released a hick as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He released another hick before he began to sob.

Jaune: dear oum.. dear oum how could I hurt a daughter?..

The ending doesn't have to be set in stone, right?

@spahhzy @epic-arc get your asses over here, this war ain't over yet.

[writing-fanics]

| happiest I’ve ever been | Sebastian michaelis x f!reader

| summary: love between butler and his mistress and where they are now |

warning: implied smut : child birth :

She giggled quietly, as her lover planted kisses on her neck. Gently, leaving behind love bites in the process. “My…darling..you..tasted..absolutely..exquisite,” Sebastian said between each kiss he planted on her neck. She smiled placing her hand on his bare chest.

He stared down at with a dastardly grin on his lips. His eyes almost seemed to pierce into her soul. “Admiring the view?” She asked, and he smiled leaning down to kiss her on the lips again.

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, “My darling, sad to say but I must be returning to my duties,” He said, and she looked at him and pursed her lips.

She frowned, he leaned down planting a kiss on her forehead before kissing her on the lips again. “But, I would love to continue this later,” He said, and she smirked at him seductively before kissing him.

“Very well,” she said, she watched as he swiftly got out of bed and got dressed she smiled watching him get dressed. She’d never been this happy in her life since not before that fateful day. Then, Sebastian came along and as time went by she slowly developed feelings for the mysterious butler.

She didn’t know that it was fake, when she say Sebastian’s “dead” body on the ground. She couldn’t stop crying and seeing his dead body to help solve the mystery didn’t help at all. She took it upon herself to take care of the cats, inside the wardrobe.

She was an absolute wreck at the “funeral” but tried to stay strong for Ciel. But when the bell was rung she dropped whatever she was holding and immediately lunged at him as he emerged from the coffin. Sobbing and crying along with the other servants.

She was the one to take care of him once he along with Ciel and Snake, returned from the ship. Seeing that her aunt Angelina thought her how to suture up wounds she helped take care of Sebastian even though it wasn’t her job to do so.

She confessed her feelings to him, as she was bringing him back to health. She wasn’t bothered at all by the difference in their status, she cared for him and loved him and wanted to be by his side.

Sebastian at first found it highly inappropriate especially, with the fact her little brother is his master. As well on his mind the terms of the Faustian Contract, inevitably he’d consume her brothers soul and would presumably return to the demon realm.

He rejected her feelings saying that a butler and a master. Pursing a relationship would be highly inappropriate.

He watched as her smile faltered and she looked down, “V-Very, well I understand it would be inappropriate but that’s the thing I don’t really care.” She frowned, and then left his room so that he could rest.it was awhile before he eventually realized he too had feelings for her and they secretly pursued a relationship.

Our!Ciel quickly found out but was happy to see his older sister so happy for once.

( present )

“Why now?!” She screamed, in pain sweat running down her forehead as she pushed. Of all times for her to being going into labor why now?

When, the Real!Ciel revealed himself along with the Undertaker. And took his place as the rightful earl of Phantomhive. And when, Our!Ciel,Sebastian, Mey-Rin, Bard, Finny, and Snake. Are fugitives on the run.

Cries echoed throughout the room. Sebastian smiled, looking down at his wailing child. “Love, we have a beautiful baby girl.” He said, cradling the infant.

[Y/n] cried tears of joy seeing her newborn baby, her lovers arms. He placed the infant on her chest and she cooed over the baby.

“Lilith Angelina-Rachel Phantomhive,” She whispered, looking at her child. She had jet-black hair and (e/c) eyes and her fathers nose and ears she looked absolutely precious.

Sebastian and [Y/n], looked up hearing the commotion coming from outside the door. “Knock it off!” She heard, Our!Ciel shout at the servant wanting them to be quiet to let the two lovers quietly enjoy the birth of their newborn.

“I think they’ve waited long enough,” She said, gently rubbing her babies back. “Are you sure?” He asked, and she nodded looking at him.

She watched, as he walked towards the door opening. Everyone rushing into the room excitedly seeing the baby on [Y/n]’s chest. “Aw, look at her she’s so cute!” Finny cooed, looking at the baby.

“She looks just like Sebastian yes she does!” Mey-Rin cooed, and the baby slowly opened her eyes and admired the world around her.

“Would you like to hold her?” She asked, looking over at her little brother. He looked at her confused, “Why, would I want to hold your child?” He asked, and she smiled at him.

Eventually, he gave in and gently took the baby into his arms. She cooed and squirmed and he couldn’t help but stare down at his niece in awe. “What’s her name?” He asked, and she looked up at Sebastian and smiled.

“Lilith Angelina-Rachel Phantomhive,” She said, and he stared at her in absolute disbelief and then looked back down at his niece. She could’ve sworn she saw a single tear roll down the side of his cheek.

[siriuslynettey]

PLATINUM

[The Lost Pater]

We Have To Be More Careful Nowadays

[Chapter 1]

September 12th, 1982

“Sirius, Remus,” came the soft, urgent voice, pulling the two weary men from their brooding thoughts. Their faces, lined with exhaustion from sleepless nights, turned toward the person calling them. It was Albus Dumbledore, his eyes filled with a sadness that matched the gravity of the moment. He moved swiftly, closing the door to his office with a muted click that seemed to echo in the heavy silence.

“It’s time.”

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look of profound sorrow, words failing them in the face of their grim task. Remus’s gaze fell to the tiny bundle nestled against Sirius’s shoulder, the baby, still so very young, barely a year old. Gently, Remus’s hand rested on the infant’s head, feeling the warmth and softness of the child’s uniquely coloured, short hair one last time.

Sirius, with an expression of barely contained grief, leaned closer to the baby’s ear, his breath warm and trembling. “It will be okay,” he promised, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I won’t let this be the last time we see each other.”

September 1st, 1993

“Phie, c’mon, we must get going, quickly!” Remus Lupin yelled from the kitchen in his tiny home.

Ophelia, the eleven year old girl in the next room, scrunched her face, waking up from her fathers yelling. Today marked her first day as a student at Hogwarts, and her father's inaugural day as a teacher.

“Ophelia, I’m not going to ask again.” Remus began knocking on the girl's door.

“mm…It’s too early.” She replied from behind the door, beginning to stretch herself. After knocking enough times, Remus opened the door in a last effort to awake his daughter.

“You’re not even out of bed?” Her platinum white hair, which contrasted sharply with the dark blue of her bedding layed messily across her face. He brushed her platinum locks out of her face and gently grabbed her arms to lift her up. “You’re not going to have time to pack Ophelia.”

“Packed last night.” She replied, pointing to her suitcase, a clear sign she was indeed her father's daughter.

“Alright well, you still need to eat breakfast and pack your things in the car, so let’s hurry.”

Ophelia finally opened her eyes, not without harshly rubbing them so she could see properly.

“Are you excited for your first day? Remus asked. His voice was always very soft in the morning, knowing his daughter wasn’t fond of mornings.

“I guess…just nervous,” she shrugged. “And what about you? Professor Lupin.” She teased her father, making both of them chuckle.

“I’m a bit nervous too. Remember, we’re both having our first day, it’ll be okay.” She nodded, leaning in for a hug, taking comfort in his words. The stubborn part of her hated that he was usually right. “But, right now it’s time to get ready, we have about an hour, so we have to hurry—no going back to sleep.”

Ophelia stood up as Remus left and stretched her body again. With her bags packed and her carefully picked outfit hanging on the wardrobe, she began to get ready.

Her black cat, Salem, layed on her bed, watching his owner mindlessly walk in circles as she brushed her teeth, trying to wake up. She had just adopted him from the Magical Menagerie a month prior. Remus had promised he would get her a cat for her first year, after declining to give her a sibling.

Meanwhile, Remus was in the kitchen throwing away another egg he had burned after turning his head for what he would call “one second”. Ophelia had just walked out of her room, walking in on Remus pushing his hair back in frustration.

“Toast is fine, dad.” She told him, trying to reassure him in his efforts. Remus gave a breathy chuckle at his daughter.

“I wanted to make you a big breakfast for your big day.” He replied, throwing his tea towel over his shoulder.

“Thank you, but it’s okay. Maybe it’s for the best anyways…I'm so nervous that I don't have a big appetite today, and I’ve been craving some marmalade toast.” She gave him her classy big smile that showed off the gap in her two upper teeth. Over the past couple years, the gap had started to close and Remus noticed it every time, it was a reminder each time she smiled that she was growing up.

“Marmalade toast it is.”

So they both sat and ate their toast. Remus began reviewing their schedule once more. He explained what to expect at King’s Cross Station, how to enter Platform 9¾, and what would happen during the sorting ceremony, trying to recall the details of his own first day. He made a big emphasis on listening to the teacher and not wandering off alone. Though this was his 5th time he’d gone over it this week, Ophelia listened attentively.

“It is always very important that you are always in sight of a Hogwarts staff member, no matter what, you have to promise me that you won’t wander off,” he urged, watching her nod, though he could tell she was growing tired of the repetition.

“I mean it, Phie, it’s not safe to be alone, not this year”

“What’s different about this year?” Ophelia asked, shoving her last piece of toast in her mouth.

“It’s just..the crime rate has been going up…since the seventies…it’s a much different world since I was in school. We have to be more careful nowadays” He stammered over his words. “You promise me you’ll listen? No pushing boundaries, please?”

“Of course I will, dad.” Remus stood, collected their empty plates, and pulled her into a quick hug before placing them in the sink. He usually avoided magic for chores, but with time running short, he used the Scourgify spell to clean up quickly.

“Oh, one more thing I don’t want you outside alone either, so wait for me before you pack your suitcase in the car.” Ophelia gave him a confused look, he was definitely a strict dad, always worrying about where she was, who she was around, but today, she felt he was strangely on edge. “Just a precaution.” He replied in response to her confused look.

Ophelia accepted her father’s strange demand, and went to her room to grab her suitcase.

“Alright Salem, time to go bud.” She grabbed the black cat and started to place him in his travel carrier. Remus had warned her that she would have to get the cat used to the carrier, before her first school day, but everytime she tried, she couldn’t bear to watch the cat meow in the carrier. Today, however, it felt like a real struggle. “Please, Salem, it’s only for today, please.”

Finally, after zipping up the cat carrier, she dragged her bags to the entryway, opening the door to put them on the veranda, while she waited for Remus.

Salem’s fighting began to increase, his little paws hitting the sides of the carrier.

“Okay, okay, you can come out until dad is ready, but then you have to go back in.” The young girl started to unzip the carrier, and before it was even a quarter of a way open, Salem leaped out and ran out the open front door. “Wait! Salem, no!!” Ophelia yelled at the cat who was now taking a leisurely stroll down the drive. Ophelia calmed down as she saw the cat come to a stop next to their car.

“I was trying to be nice Salem, now you’re going back in your crate for being naughty.” Salem started to loudly hiss across the street as she picked him up, which he had never done before. “Well, you shouldn’t have run away.” She replied to the cat.

Salem continued to hiss, still staring off into the distance. Ophelia followed the cat's line of vision to the bushes on the other side of the road. The bushes began to ruffle, despite the stillness of the air.

Suddenly, a large black dog emerged from the bushes. Salem’s hissing began to become more rampant and he began to squirm in Ophelia’s arms. The dog kept intense eye contact with Ophelia, slightly creeping forward, as Ophelia walked backwards. The dog disappeared back into the bushes before it could do anything else.

“Ophelia!” Remus shouted and walked out the front door. She jumped and whipped her head towards her dad

“What?” She yelled out, her fathers calling of her name coming out of nowhere and scaring her.

“I thought I told you to wait for me before you packed your bags.” He stepped closer to his daughter, seeing that her body was frozen in fear. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you see someone?” Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the surroundings.

“I-no-Salem got out and–I didn’t hear you coming–I’m sorry.” Remus softened at his daughter's explanation, feeling bad for scaring her.

“That’s alright, let’s go put Salem in his crate and put our suitcases in the car, then we’ll be on our way.”

They placed Salem in his carrier (much to his dismay) and Remus began putting their suitcases in the boot of the car. Ophelia opened the passenger door with Salem’s carrier in hand. ust then, a brown owl swooped down, landing on the roof of the car with a letter clutched in its beak. Both of them jumped, surprised by the sudden arrival.

“Another welcome letter?” Remus chuckled, not remembering as many greetings before his first year.

“Maybe,” Ophelia carefully grabbed the envelope from the bird's mouth and watched it fly away. “This one doesn't say Hogwarts though.” She said out loud, looking at both sides of the envelope, Remus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Ophelia,

Hogwarts is a place like no other. Dive in headfirst—learn everything you can, but remember to enjoy yourself too. This is a time for discovering not just spells and potions, but also for making friends who will stick with you for life. Cherish these friendships; they’re one of the most precious things you’ll gain from your time at Hogwarts.

Though, you must choose your friends wisely. Not everyone will have your best interests at heart, so trust your instincts and stick with those who are good and true. Protect the ones who are good.

Stay safe.

And a final note—listen to your dad. He has a lot of experience under his belt. His guidance will be invaluable, so take his advice to heart, even if you don’t always want to agree.

Best of luck.

“What does it say, Phie?” Remus asked, but Ophelia was still engrossed in the letter. “Ophelia, what does it say?” He began to grow impatient and walked over to his daughter, though he wanted to, he used his manners and didn’t grab the letter from the girl's hands.

“I think it’s just another welcoming letter, they must have just forgotten to add their seal.” She handed the piece of parchment to her dad.

As he read, Remus felt his chest tighten, folding the paper back into its envelope with urgency.

“Alright, time to go.” He hurried Ophelia into their car and shut the door behind her. Glancing at the surrounding houses, he quickly made his way to the driver’s seat.

“Is everything okay?” Ophelia asked her dad, observing his more frantic behaviour.

“Yes, all good.” He locked the door and clicked in his seatbelt. “Just excited for our first day, are you ready?” Ophelia accepted his explanation, as he had already seemed very worried for his first day of teaching.

“I guess.” Ophelia shrugged. Remus chuckled and ruffled his daughter's bright white hair affectionately.

“We’re going to have a great year.”

See Next Chapter Here!

[chantersboard]

700 words. Joel x f!reader. Reader has an affair with Joel.

warnings: MDNI 18+, infidelity (both Joel and reader are married), one second mention of baby Sarah, unprotected piv

a/n: bro I’ve never been this prolific with writing in my life. it really is freeing to say fuck it, here’s a sub 1K quickie. I reeeeally appreciate it when yall like and reblog. it’s incredibly supportive and validates the effort and time I place into these. thanks! see #chantersboardwritessometimes for more work

The Tryst

A slice of sunlight cuts into the otherwise dark room where the two blackout curtains gap against the hotel window. It splits the space in two, the ray slowly crawling across the room as the sun drifts through the sky.

You watch the light as it travels, knowing that when the sun inches across the bed then eventually hits your face it would be time to go. Time to part from this tiny room of solace and back to your life. Your real life.

But until then you relax, freeing yourself of whatever worry that exists outside that hotel room door, and instead you enjoy the lull of Joel Miller’s calm breathing. Your back is pressed against his chest as you sit between his legs. His bare thighs bracket yours as he holds you close.

His hand slides down your arm then rests atop yours. Through his fingers you glimpse your wedding band. The delicate gold ring clashes with the thick black ring on his own finger. You push away the thoughts of your husband and of his wife and concentrate on Joel’s body behind you.

You don’t get moments like these often. Quiet, calming, sensual moments where nothing else exists but you and him. You slog through your long exhausting days, struggling with the load of life, until you are allowed this reprieve. The room may be different each time but the feeling is always the same. You are given space to breathe here. You are appreciated here. You are loved here. And in return you free your heart and give back that openness and appreciation and love.

Joel nuzzles at your neck and the coarse hair of his beard scratches against you. His hands roam your body, leaving a trail of heat across your skin. You softly hum when his hands grasp your breasts. He touches you gently and with care. He’s languid with his movements, as if you have all the time in the world together.

He presses his lips against your neck and you melt into him. The smell of him, earthy and sweaty, envelops you. It sticks to your skin just as your scent clings to him. But until the timer runs out and you stand under the shower to wash away the evidence of today you breathe him in. You’ll smell him and touch him and taste him until you're overwhelmed with him.

His hips tilt upwards and his hardening cock moves against you.

“One last time, my love?” There is a sadness in his tone. That ray of sun inches closer. “Before it’s too late?”

This part always destroys you. Having to leave his embrace. Having to leave his love. Every time you wonder if you could ruin your life. If you could leave your cruel husband and your loveless marriage. But the anxiety of the details gives you pause. What would happen to the house? What would your family think? Could you afford to live alone?

But Joel promised you would not be alone. He’d leave his wife, he assured. He’d pack up his things. He’d bring his infant daughter and he’d be with you. You could have the rest of your days with him.

If only you were strong enough.

You twist around to face Joel, now your thighs bracket his. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He loves you, you know he does. And he’s an honest man. He means it when he says you wouldn’t be alone.

You hold the base of his stiff member and align him at your entrance. Slowly, you sink onto him, savoring the way he spreads your walls and fills you completely. You can’t bear to leave him, not again.

“I don’t want this to be the last time,” you whisper, raising yourself up his shaft then dropping down again. “I’ll leave him. I only want you. I want you forever.”

You are strong enough. And even if you aren’t, Joel will be there to help mend whatever was broken.

Joel is illuminated as the slice of sun falls onto his face. He leans back and returns to the darkness. There will always be more time.

“Then you have me forever, sweetheart.”

[violettduchess]

A/N: Better late than never! Not a request, just my imagining what these lovely suitors would be like with an infant that wakes up crying 💜

CW: babies, breastfeeding

Suitors x female reader

WC: 2045

A cry rings out through a peaceful summer night at the palace.

It is small, but powerful.

And very, very insistent. 

Leon

A light sleeper by nature, he gets up, murmuring for you to try and keep sleeping when he notices you stirring too. "I'll see what I can do for the little peanut." He crosses the room to the white bassinet with its pale pink ruffles, a gift from Uncle Yves. Inside his infant daughter is fussing. Tiny fists are clenching and unclenching as her small head turns fitfully left and right.

“Ah, c’mere sweetheart,” he says, voice still rough with sleep as he lifts her gently, laying her against his bare shoulder. One large hand rubs her back as he walks the length of the room, her tiny cheek warm as a spot of sunshine against his shoulder.

“I can take her–” you start to say as you push yourself upright in the bed, but he shakes his head, holding up a finger.

“I think we’ve got this handled, love. Take a look.” He walks over to your side of the bed, his hand still gently stroking the baby’s back. Her tiny head with its halo of black hair rests against him and is still. Not able to see her face, he turns sideways, giving you the sweetest view of your handsome, bare-chested husband holding your daughter close, her small face now relaxed again in sleep. Her father’s warmth was enough to solve whatever problem had woken her and she's drifted back off to the soft, hazy world of baby dreams.

You smile, feeling the way your heart expands, a paradox: never has it been so full of love and yet so very, very light.

Clavis

He wakes up immediately at his son’s first cry and is out of bed before the sound can even penetrate your deep sleep. He knows how often you get up, how often you are the only one who can satisfy your son’s voracious demands for food but Clavis has told himself that the little tyrant's demands that don't require milk, he will take care of himself. You, his dearest of dears, need as much sleep as you can get.

He bends down over the baby’s cradle, brushing back the boy’s angel-soft hair, the same twilight shade as his. “So noisy at such a late hour. My my. This won’t do.” Carefully he scoops up his son, adjusting his pajamas and then his hand freezes. 

“Oh dear. I think I see why you’re so upset, little Lelouch.” The baby continues to whimper, little cries that, although Clavis knows they are harmless, still feel like they are stabbing right into the center of his tender heart. He never wants to hear his child in distress.

Reaching up, he turns the small knob on the lamp above the dresser where you have all of the baby’s changing things neatly laid out. His son squeaks out little sounds of agitation. “I’ve got you, don't worry. Papa's got you, always and--my goodness, how does such a tiny body produce this much liquid?” He talks, his words soft and almost sing-song as he changes his son’s pajamas and diaper with practiced hands. The baby, now removed of his damp clothing, stops whimpering, instead blinking up at his father with wide golden eyes.

“There has got to be a better solution to this than soaking all those linen diapers,” he mutters as he carefully slides chubby legs into fresh little stockings. “I bet I could invent something that might absorb all your perfectly healthy but still oh so stinky messes much better.” The baby kicks his legs and waves his arms, as if cheering in agreement and Clavis laughs softly, lifting his son back into his arms. “You agree with Papa? You think I can do that? Of course you do.” 

He walks back to the cradle, turning his head to place a gentle kiss to the apple of his son’s plump cheek. He could hold him in his arms forever, never tiring of that infant smell, that the feel of his warm little body so trusting and sweet against him. 

He pauses in front of the cradle. “Hmm….I know. Let’s go on a little nocturnal journey down the hall while talking through some chemicals and their rates of absorption. I bet you’ll be a perfectly delightful assistant.”

Jin

Both you and Jin yawn, sleepily rubbing at your eyes as your daughter’s cries fill the bedroom. One glance at the time and he sighs, reaching over to tenderly touch your cheek with the back of his hand. “She’s on time, our little one,” he murmurs in his deep voice even as you are pushing yourself up with one hand and already unbuttoning your nightgown with the other.

He gets up, walking over to the crib where the infant is crying, her shock of brownish hair standing up in every direction. “Mommy’s already getting ready for you, princess,” he says as he reaches down and lifts her. She’s so small in his large hands. He walks back to bed, murmuring soft little shushing noises, and then carefully hands her over to you. You help her find the right position and then sigh when she begins to nurse, her cries immediately quieted. Glancing up, you find Jin sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you both with a curiously thoughtful expression.

“What is it?” 

He watches you a moment, then shakes his head, a sheepish grin on his handsome face. “It’s just….I’ve always liked that particular body part.” You snort, running your fingers over your baby’s fine chestnut hair. “That’s an understatement.” He chuckles, shrugging before continuing his thought. “Yeah well…it’s just…I think….now that I see ‘em being used to feed our little girl….I think….I think I actually like them MORE now.”

You can’t help it. You start giggling, a burst of yellow happiness that colors the gray exhaustion of new parenthood. “God, I love you.” You crook a finger at him and he matches your smile as he climbs back into bed and leans close to you. You place a kiss on his chiseled cheekbone, warm and affectionate. A sigh born of tender happiness is his answer, along with the words, “I love you too.”

Silvio

“Stay in bed. I’ll go.” He’s up, striding across the bedroom to the bassinet before you can even finish rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Aye, piccolino, sono qui.” He reaches down, running a hand over the restless infant's back. But no soothing words or pets seem to be enough. He lifts the baby carefully, still in that new stage of fatherhood where a baby feels like the most fragile thing in the world.

You watch your two pale-haired men, frowning slightly as the littlest one continues to fuss. "He can't be hungry again, can he?" You have just finished feeding him until he fell into a milk-drunk state of blissful sleep, his body heavy and warm, not thirty minutes ago. He had been sleeping so soundly that hope for more than an hour of sleep at one time had risen in your heart.

Silvio lays the baby against his shoulder. His hands are bare, with only his simple gold wedding band left on his elegant fingers. Every other piece of jewelry has been removed for the sake of his child. Necklaces would get in the way of his son sleeping on his bare chest. Earrings might hinder his ability to press his cheek against his fine, moonlight-spun hair. 

"Ain't no baby in the world that could eat again after all that milk." He inclines his head towards his son. "Listen to you, cucciolo. All that growling." He rubs his small back in soothing circles. And then the most extraordinary thing happens: the tiny prince lets out the most raucous of burps. The kind that sends a quake through his little body.

"Dio mio," his father mutters, blue eyes wide as he looks down at his son. You grin through your sleepiness. "Here I thought only his grumbling was like his father." 

Gilbert

His daughter's cry shatters the night's peace in an instant. Both you and Gilbert wake up immediately, but he's quicker than you, throwing back the covers and crossing the room to the cradle carved from darkest walnut. 

He spots the problem immediately. At some point during the night she had kicked her blanket to the end of her cradle where it lies bunched up and useless. Her socks are nowhere to be seen, a display of her magician-like talent for making them disappear. He reaches down and sure enough, her tiny feet are like ice blocks.

"Always the same thing with you, oder Mäuschen? What have socks ever done to you?” He lifts her from her cradle, tucking her securely into the crook of his arm as he makes his way over to the dresser that has been designated hers. You reach across the bed, turning on the lamp that sits on his nightstand and he glances at you over his shoulder, eyes bright with appreciation. “Thank you, Häschen.” Now he can see better, his fingers trailing over the tiny rolled up socks and tights. When the baby makes a small cooing sound, he stops. “These?” He pulls out a pair of soft black tights embroidered with mini red roses. “Ahh a good choice.”

He hums as he walks over to the changing table, the sound soft and soothing, the gentle rush of a river through the night. As he carefully changes her diaper and then works her plump little legs into the tights, humming gives way to him singing. "Der Mond ist aufgegangen…"

She is curious, all thoughts of crying gone, watchful crimson eyes blinking as she keeps her gaze on the source of the calming sound. “Fertig,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the soles of her now covered feet. "All done." Then he lifts her, carrying her not to her cradle but back to the bed. He slides in, leaning back against the support of the many bed pillows, settling in. Her eyes are already closing as she snuggles in close against his chest.

You watch them both with a smile as tender as the moon’s joy in the stars.

Chevalier

The man who took an army to wake up is on his feet in an instant. He is silent as he crosses the room, leaning down to check on his crying daughter, her pale head of blond hair gleaming silver in the moonlight. He carefully lifts her from the bassinet, marveling in the back of his mind at how very small she is.

He glances back to the bed where you are still deeply asleep. “Your mother is exhausted from all your demands.” He wouldn’t usually condone speaking to a baby as they are incapable of understanding but he’s found that she calms down when she hears his voice. Even now her whimpering stops, her tiny cheek resting on the soft linen of his shirt. She’s gone very still, as if truly listening to his words. “You’ve eaten twenty minutes ago. We can eliminate hunger. Your bottom is….” He pats it gently, checking. “...perfectly dry. The room is neither too hot nor too cold.” He wraps his hands around her feet. She’s still wearing her white socks trimmed with yellow lace. “Your feet are adequately covered.” He tips his head back to look down at her. Her perfect, tiny fingers are curled into his shirt and her body feels heavy, drowsy with sleep. 

She attempts to turn her head, burying her face in his shoulder and he reaches up, helping her, running his strong fingers over her downy hair when she has found a position that is comfortable. Chevalier walks over to the white wooden rocking chair you have positioned by the window and lowers himself into it.

“You simply wanted to be held, didn’t you?” A heavy, stuttering sigh leaves her small body, almost as if in answer to her father’s line of questioning. He cups her head with his hand, tilting his face down to place a soft kiss on her hair. “I’ll comply, little one.” He settles into the chair and begins rocking gently back and forth, father and daughter, bathed in loving, silvery moonlight.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part 10)

Jacob Black x Vampire!Swan Reader

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Series Masterlist

“What are you doing?” Y/N enters Carlisle’s makeshift operating room to find Bella on the table, writhing in pain. “Where’s Carlisle?” Only Edward, Alice and Rosalie are in attendance.

“He’s out hunting with Esme, they’re on their way back now.” Alice has him on the phone as if that will help.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Edward warns Y/N. “You haven’t fed recently and there will be blood.”

Y/N averts her eyes.

“She’s fine,” Jacob growls.

Alice’s gaze flits between them, the reddened skin on Jacob’s neck and Y/N’s honey colored irises. Oh.

“The placenta must have detached.”

“Get him out now,” Bella insists.

Edward jabs the syringe full of morphine into Bella’s outer thigh.

Rosalie is already holding the scalpel, poised to cut Bella open.

“What are you doing?” Y/N knocks her hand away. “Wait for it to spread.”

“He’s dying!” Bella protests, so sure that the child growing inside her is a son.

Edward looks to her, eyes on fire, pleading with her to just wait.

“Do it now.” Bella insists, no matter the cost.

Rosalie’s makes a clean slice across the bottom of Bella’s abdomen. Distracted by the blood and the hunger it brings.

Alice lunges at her, tackling the blonde to the ground and removing her from the room.

“It’s gonna be ok, Bella.” Y/N takes her hand as Edward works on delivering the baby. Tearing her apart.

Bella’s screams continue until Edward’s bitten through the amniotic sac. Her body is already in shock as the baby is placed into her arms.

“It’s Renesmee.” Edward tells her.

“She’s beautiful.” Bella gives a weak smile.

Y/N strokes sweat damp hair from her sister’s face. “You did it.”

Bella looks to Y/N. “Take care of her for me.”

Y/N nods, assuming she means over the next three days. “I will.”

Bella’s expression goes blank, unseeing eyes landing on Edward as her heart slows to a halt.

Edward takes Renesmee before she can fall from Bella’s arms. “Y/N, take the baby.”

Y/N reaches for the infant, cradling her gently. Bouncing from side to side out of instinct.

Jacob watches, mouth ajar. He imagines her rocking their own children, the ones they may never have.

“Please, Bella.” Y/N sobs. “Please.”

Edward injects his venom directly into Bella’s heart.

Jacob holds Y/N to him, mindful of the baby, as Edward continues pumping her unbeating heart. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“No,” Y/N wails, “please no.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, knowing that this is only the beginning of her losses. She would lose Charlie and her mother and every mortal person she’s ever loved. “I’m sorry.”

The pack standing watch outside feels it through the bond, the grief sends a collective howl. Y/N’s pain is Jacob’s and theirs in turn.

Her suffering shoots through him like a physical blow. “What can I do?” He asks, desperately. “Y/N, just tell me what I can do.” Jacob is helpless, powerless to alleviate even an ounce of her agony.

“It should have been me.” Y/N crawls at his back, clinging to him. “I wish it was me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Y/N shakes her head. She does mean it, she wishes she died back when she was still human. She wishes she could be human again, for Jacob to be human. She longs for the boy with long flowing locks and an easy smile to come save her. To change her back into the blushing girl with blood in her veins. She wants to grow old with him and have his babies. She wants to age out of this life when she’s done all she is meant to. All of that is gone now, like Bella is gone.

Her dying wish being for Y/N to help raise her child is especially cruel, even though Bella didn’t mean for it to be.

Renesmee begins to fuss, in tune with her aunt’s emotions.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.” There aren’t medications for vampires with depression. “I love you, I’m sorry.”

Jacob would tear his own heart out and give it to her on a platter. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re doing everything you can.”

“I’m broken.”

“You’re mine.” Jacob murmurs, “you’re mine.” If she’s broken he’ll fix her. If her life is empty then he’ll fill it. Pour all his time into her, his blood, his body, his love and make her whole again.

“I’m yours.” It is easy to mourn the dead, people are taught to do it all their lives. It’s much harder to mourn the living, to be haunted by their perpetual ghost. Jacob Black will haunt her for eternity, standing obediently at her side all the while.

This is about more than Bella, her momentary death only triggered it. That becomes apparent as her heart begins beating erratically while the venom transforms her.

Y/N is happy her sister is going to survive, but it doesn’t fix everything, it only lessens the blow.

————————————————————————

Bella’s transformation is quiet, she’s completely still from the morphine. A stark contrast from Y/N’s. But after the birth of her daughter, she deserves a peaceful beginning to her new life.

Y/N and Jacob take turns with Rosalie and the Cullens, caring for Renesmee who grows significantly each day.

The blonde vampire comes to collect the infant and Jacob takes the opportunity to get Y/N alone, leading her out towards the tree line.

“I want to marry you.”

Y/N flinches at his words. “I know,” she’s already agreed.

“I want to marry you now.” Jacob clarifies, “before we leave. I want Charlie and my dad to be there.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

“We’ve graduated, I have a ring, we’ve got the place lined up in Denali.”

“O-okay.” Y/N stammers.

“I’m going to get down on one knee and ask you.” Jacob warns her. “We can have a small wedding or a big one, whatever you want. We’re going to move to Alaska and start our new lives. I’m going to get you pregnant, no matter what I have to do and I’m gonna do it as many times as you want, okay? Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. All I want you to do is say yes.”

Y/N nods, watching him sink down on the grass, pulling a loose ring from his back pocket.

“This was my mother’s.” Jacob says, “if we need to keep up with the Cullens, I will save up the money to buy you a nice big rock.”

Y/N stares down at the engagement ring in question, a hand etched band adorned with little diamonds. “It’s perfect, I’m…are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” He stares up at her. “I’ll beg if you want me to.”

“No, don’t beg.” Y/N laughs, “I’ll marry you.”

Jacob slips the ring onto her finger, kissing her hand over the metal band. “Thank you.”

“I wish we had more time here.” Y/N confesses, “this feels so final.” Like they’ll never come back.

“There is something I’ve been thinking about, might buy us some time.”

“I’m all ears.”

————————————————————————

Charlie is chopping wood in the back yard when Jacob and Y/N pull up on the motorcycle.

“Dad.” Y/N calls, as not to startle him.

“Here,” Charlie beckons them to join him near the chopping block.

“Need any help?”

“I think I’ve got it covered. How’s Bella?”

“She’s ok,” Y/N smiles. “We were actually hoping we could talk about something else.”

Charlie cocks his head to the side, “what’s going on, kid?”

“Jacob and I are getting married,” Y/N holds out her hand.

Charlie adjusts his stance, “well, it’s been a long time coming.” Jacob asked his blessing months ago. “I’m happy for you.”

“Second thing,” Jacob cuts in, “it’s about Bella. She is better, but in order for her to get better…”

“She had to change.”

Charlie looks to his oldest daughter, running a hand over his face. “Like you changed?”

“Yeah,” Y/N admits.

“And you can’t tell me what that means, can you?” Charlie knows this game.

“I can’t, but Jacob can give you a rough idea, if you’re open to it.”

Charlie throws up a hand, “go for it.”

Jacob begins removing his clothing, handing them to Y/N.

“Jacob,” Charlie averts his gaze, “put your clothes on.”

“I know this may seem strange.” Jake kicks off his boots.

“No socks?” Y/N scrunches up her nose.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Charlie says, in disbelief.

“Stranger things happen everyday.”

“I doubt it.” Charlie fights the urge to cover his eyes, Jacob is down to his boxers.

Jake’s body heats up, sending smoke into the air as he phases into the reddish brown wolf Y/N has come to love.

Charlie stumbles backwards, landing on his behind and Y/N steps around her fiancé to help him up.

“It’s ok, Dad. It’s just Jacob.”

“I- do you turn into a big dog too?” Charlie whispers to his daughter.

Y/N chuckles, “no. This is my only form.”

“Oh thank god.”

Part 11

Series Taglist: @vxidnik @remembered-license @itscheybaby @cole22ann @the-tryhard-twihard @zheezs14 @adaydreamaway08 @xcastawayherosx @moneteguiza @stinkii-boii @theatrechic26 @sylum @irrelevant-86

[redheadspark]

Can you pls do #1 and #12 from hurt and comfort prompts with Azriel? 🙏🙏🙏❤️

A/N - SO CUTE FOR HIM! Thanks for requesting this, dear!

Safe

Summary - Azriel's old haunts come back to him.

Warnings - Mostly angst with a hint of fluff

In all your life, you’ve never heard your mate scream out during a nightmare.  

Watching him shake in the bed, sweat along his forehead and his eyes scrunched tight, you were panicking that something was seriously wrong with him.  You reached up to frame his face, feeling how cold and clammy he was against your war hands as you were perched over him on the bed, avoiding his wings that shot out and were rigid.  

“Az…Azriel wake up for me, sweetheart,” You said in urgency, Azriel whimpering and shaking violently as his hands were curled up so tight your bought he would draw blood.  You called out a name a few more times, running a hand through his ink black hair while he was finally loosing his voice from the scream that endured.  

You were only thinking the worst since Azriel was a heavy sleeper and was not prone to nightmares.  He craved his sleep at night, turning all day at the camps or being out on a spy mission, he would fall asleep instantly when his head would hit the pillow.  It was quite comical to see, soft snores and wings hanging limp all the bed with his eyes closed and not a care in the world on his face.  

But not this, this was not him at all.

“Azriel…come on baby.  Open your eyes, come on,” You said in a rushed tone as he was finally slowing down in his shaking and whimpering.  You reached down to uncurl one of his hands, lacing your fingers together to have him feel your palm against his while your other hand was cradling his neck.  HIs pulse against your hand was rapid and intense, his eyes finally opened in the dankness of the room as he was blinking awake in worry and almost panic.  Those hazel eyes finally saw you, perched over him almost like a predator about to kill, but there was softness in your eyes as you finally smiled in relief.

“There you are, Az,” You said in a softer tone, stroking his hair away from his eyes.  

“Did I wake Sam up?  I-i-is he—“ He was stuttering as he looked over at the slightly open door that lead to the hallway.  You shook your head, seeing the fear in his eyes of waking up is infant son from his screaming.

“No, he’s fine Az.  Sleeping away and snoring just like his father,” You reassured him.  You were inwardly glad that your son Samuel was a heavy sleep as well as his father, being the ever calm baby that was easy to handle and care for.  You were more of a light sleeper yourself, able to hear when Samuel wake up fussing or in need of a changed diaper.  Azriel was worried in letting him sleep in his own room when he was big and old enough, worried of the worst that could happen throughout the night.  Being the ever protective father that he was, Azriel would never dare have any danger happen to his son, he loved him too much to have any pain some his way.  

You were thinking that you made it over the small hump that just occurred with Azriel, and you were about to coax him to lay back down to bed.  Yet within a second, you saw tears coming from his hazel orbs and his voice was almost choking.  You looked in concern, about to ask him what was wrong when he sat up and hugged you close.  Hiding his face in your neck and his wings almost gong around you both like a shield.  You were frozen, not understanding what was going on and why he was reacting like this over a simple nightmare.  

But nothing else matters since you felt tears along your neck and you heard him silently crying.  

“Hey,” You said, finally finding your voice while you are gently holding him.  It was a contrast in how he was keeping you tight against him, your arms were instead loose like a halo around him., “Shh, It’s just a nightmare.  You’re safe.  You’re okay and you’re safe here with me, okay?  I got you right here,”

You were trying to bring him comfort, make him feel at ease with whatever he was dreaming.  Yet it sounded like you made it worst, feeling him shake in your embrace and his tears were still flowing as his fingers were digging into your shirt.  It scared you, to see and feel Azriel in such a state since he was always cool and composed.  He never showed any kind of emotion, nothing out of the ordinary.  Being a spymaster, he had to remain calm at all times and never had a small moment of emotion 

“Did I say—“ You were about to ask him since it felt like you triggered something deep inside of him.  The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him when he was still vulnerable, but he shook his head before you utter another word.

“My mother,” He said, his voice muffled in your shirt as you paused.  Looking down at him in shock, you were seeing him finally take his face away from being covered up.  Tears streaking his cheeks, his face flushed and almost pale, but he was softly looking up at you, as if you were come being descending from the heavens.  

“What?” You asked in a gasp.

“I dreamt of my mother,” He said in a hoarse tone.  You reached up cup his face as he was still talking, “The night I got my…my scars,”

He took his hands away from your waist, looking down at the scars there and flexing his fingers a few times.  You knew of that night from what he told you, along with what Cassian and Rhysand filled you in with.  It was a night of terror for him as a little boy, who was tormented by his own family and step siblings.  It broke your heart to hear that happened to him, when you knew Azriel was filled with nothing but goodness and warmth.  

Even as a deadly Spymaster and menacing Shadowsinger for Velaris and The Night Court.  He was still kind to those who needed kindness, empathetic to those who were struggling, and he was filled with love for those close to his heart.  You were one of them, seeing a beautiful soul under the tough exterior.  

You knew he got that from his mother, and you wished you would have met her to thank her for such a gift.

“She held me after it happened, and she used to help me with my nightmares,” he said as he was taking in a shaky breath, you still having his face in your hands as he kept his stare on you, “And when you said that…I felt…I felt safe like I did when she would help me,”

You leaned down to press your head against his, noses touching one another and you simply letting him still unwind himself a bit more in your embrace.  Being vulnerable was something Azriel couldn’t do most of the time, he had to hide away the fears and the small moments of sadness in his line of work.  

But he liked bring vulnerable when it was just the two of you, hiding away in your small little home that was both cluttered and roomy at the same time.  Letting his guard down as you two would read side by side,  even letting you be the one to hold him as you two slept throughout the night.  He felt safe with you, for the first time in a long time he felt free to be open and free.

“You don’t have to hide your tears from me,” You reminded him softly as he was trying to sniffling away the tears that were still coming, “You’re safe with me here, Azriel.  You’re always safe with me here, okay?”

He nodded rapidly, now letting the tears fall since he had your permission to be raw.  He felt like a release deep inside of him, as if his chest that was burdened with so much weight and agony was now flying out of him with their own set of wings.  He cried into your chest as you held him, thinking of such a contrast for a simply fat to be consoling and holding a strong and powerful Illyrian being.  But you both felt safe for each other to let this happen, to go against the mold and the grain of what should be.  

Azriel fell back asleep in your arms as your held him close, and he no longer had a nightmare that night but a sweet dream.  He dreamt of the day he met you and felt his heart swell in love.  

The End

Hurt and Comfort Prompt Session