#sits down on the bed with him and scoops the kid into his lap to hold him while he cries

[hatethysinner]

Okay, I have read No Ordinary Love and the Papa Remmick headcanons and my heart is just. swooning. at the idea of Remmick holding up his black daughter (His! The huband who walked could lay down a ditch! Maybe Remmick did it...) and letting her explore his vampiric features without any shame or fear. 🥹 Could there be a drabble where Remmick plays with his kid and realizes his baby is totally unafraid of his eyes and teeth and hands?

ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ

ᴡᴄ: 1.7k

ᴀ/ɴ: this is an official add-on to no ordinary love, so make sure to read that first if you haven't already <3! i am not shamed to admit i sobbed while writing this. i haven't revisited this little universe in almost a month and experiencing it all over again turned me into mush. plus, i needed a break from the nonstop smut. THANK YOU ANON!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: the sweetest softest domestic!papa!remmick fluff you'll ever read, memories of abandonment, lingering grief, light religious mentions, highly unrealistic public displays of affection in 1930s mississippi but i refuse to let my little family be sad

Three years had passed.

Three summers. Three winters. Three birthdays, each marked with a small cake and a quiet kiss on the forehead, candles flickering in the soft breath of dusk.

Three years of Remmick’s comforting omnipresence.

You hadn’t asked for him to stay that long. You hadn’t said the words. But you hadn’t needed to.

He stayed.

He stayed like the porch swing stayed. Like the old kettle on the stove. Like the sun that found its way through the lace curtains every morning, slow and warm and dependable. You woke with the shape of his presence already etched into the day—his boots left by the door, the scent of cedarwood and wildflowers, the rhythm of his humming from the backyard as he chopped firewood or stirred the oats or fed the hens.

The house didn’t feel big anymore.

Not empty.

Not abandoned.

Just lived in. Loved in.

And when you thought of your husband now—when some old church friend asked about him, or you caught sight of a man in town with shoulders like his—you found your mind jumping first to Remmick.

His hands. His voice. His quiet way of watching over the two of you like it was the only job he’d ever wanted

You didn’t forget the man who left you. Not entirely.

But when you reached for memories of a man in your kitchen, stirring soup, tucking a blanket around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head while you dried the baby’s hair with a towel, it wasn’t your husband who came to mind.

It was Remmick.

The ache had softened with time. The jagged part dulled to something manageable. But it was still strange, sometimes, to think how easily your life had reshaped itself around him. Not like clay molded under pressure—but like vines growing toward sunlight. Quiet. Natural. Irrevocable.

He didn’t replace what you lost.

He became what was missing.

And the baby—your baby—loved him with the certainty only children could have. Fierce and boundless and instinctive. She called him “Papa” now, no prompting, no correction. Just Papa. Like that’s who he’d always been.

Remmick hadn’t corrected her either.

Not once.

You’d seen the way his breath caught the first time she said it. The way his whole body stilled. Then softened. His face crumpled for a second like it was too much. Like it hurt to be loved like that.

But he hadn’t told her no.

He’d just scooped her up, kissed her cheek, and said, “Yeah, baby girl. I’m here.”

And he always was.

There wasn’t a scraped knee he hadn’t knelt beside. A nightmare he hadn’t banished with a murmur and a rocking chair. When her first fever hit, you found him sitting beside the bed, hand lightly pressed to her forehead like he could draw the sickness out by sheer force of will. He hadn’t left the room for two days. You had to coax him into sleep with your own hand on his back, your own head rested against his shoulder until he finally gave in.

Sometimes you’d catch them talking.

Deep in their own little world.

Her on his lap, chattering about fairies and frogs and what she wanted to be when she grew up. Him nodding along, eyes wide, responding like it was the most serious conversation of his life.

“D’ya think I could be a bird, Papa?” she’d asked once, and he hadn’t laughed.

He’d just said, “Sure, sugar. If y’ever turn into one, I’ll build you a nest.”

It didn’t matter what she asked. Remmick always found an answer that made her believe it was possible.

And she believed in him.

In the way he always knew when she needed a nap. The way he caught her when she tumbled down the porch steps, faster than you could blink. The way he crouched beside her now, in the long grass at the edge of the garden, his lean arms open wide as she toddled toward him on wobbly legs, shrieking with joy.

You stood on the back porch, hip leaned against the frame, mug warm in your hands.

Watched them.

The sun had dipped beneath the trees, but the sky still held the last sigh of daylight—long streaks of orange and violet curling over the rooftops, fading like bruises. The light wasn’t gone, just gentled, and everything it touched looked softer for it. The grass gleamed gold at the edges. The white sheets strung on the line were touched with lilac. And the porch, where you stood with your mug cooling in your hands, felt like a pocket of stillness the rest of the world had forgotten.

Down in the yard, Remmick crouched beneath the old oak, half in shadow, half bathed in amber. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, collar open, hair mussed from her hands. He looked as he always did at this hour—unshaven, glowing faintly with the last color of the sun, and so completely fixed on her that he seemed unaware of anything else.

Your daughter was a whirl of energy in front of him. Her little arms flung wide, knees smudged with grass and dust, curls bouncing with every step. She’d sweated through the back of her cotton dress, little ringlets damp at the nape of her neck, and still she ran.

“Catch me, Papa!” she yelled again, laughter already bubbling up behind the words.

And he did.

Of course he did.

He always would.

He caught her clean and high, like it was nothing, like she was light as air. He spun her until the hem of her dress flared like a bell and her feet kicked at the purple-streaked sky. Her laughter spilled into the yard, sharp and bright and holy.

You smiled without meaning to.

But it wasn’t the joy that cinched tight around your chest. Not really.

It was what came after.

The way she slowed. Settled. Reached up with both hands and cupped his face like she was holding something breakable.

“Show me,” she whispered.

You couldn’t hear the words, but you knew them by now. She asked nearly every evening. Quiet. Curious. Never afraid.

Remmick hesitated, as he always did.

Then he smiled.

Not the modest, half-there smile he gave normally. Not the polite one he wore in town.

This one was full. Unapologetic.

Canines and all.

He opened his mouth wider, like a magician revealing the final piece of a trick. His teeth shone white in the dying light, longer than human, sharper than any father’s had a right to be. And his eyes—sea blue most of the time—flared with something warmer, something unnameable. A faint red shimmer, soft at the edges, like the glint of sunlight on water.

Your daughter didn’t flinch.

She never had.

She just leaned forward and tapped the tip of one fang, tilting her head like she was inspecting a seashell.

Then she giggled.

And kissed his cheek.

And Remmick—Remmick went still in that way he did when something mattered too much to speak on. Like his whole body braced to keep from shattering under the weight of it.

He closed his eyes.

Exhaled.

Then gathered her close.

Held her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world.

And maybe she was.

Her arms wrapped tight around his neck. Her little fingers curled into the back of his shirt. Her cheek pressed to his temple like she’d done it a hundred times before—which, of course, she had. Her skin, a deep brown kissed golden by the day, stood out against his pale hands. His thumbs rubbed circles on her back, and in the fading light, their contrast was clearer than ever.

Her soft black curls coiled close to her scalp. His hair hanging in faint waves. Her round cheeks and wide nose pressed against his sharp profile. They looked nothing alike. Not even close.

But no one watching them would’ve questioned that she was his.

And Remmick—he never saw the difference.

Because it didn’t exist to him at all.

Not when neighbors stared too long. Not when townsfolk stumbled over their words at the sight of him carrying her through the general store.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t explain.

Didn’t offer any correction when she shouted “Papa!” across the field with both arms raised.

She was simply his.

That was the start and end of it.

The world could gawk all it liked. Could whisper. Could blink hard at the white man with blue eyes and the little black girl who clung to him like gravity. Remmick didn’t care. He never had. Not about that.

He always chose her.

Every single day.

She’d never known anything else. Never had to unlearn fear or flinch from fangs. He’d been her safety from the moment he stepped into that house—quiet hands, steady voice, eyes that glowed but never glared.

She didn’t see a monster when she looked at him.

She saw warmth. And patience. And stories told by candlelight.

She saw Papa.

And that was all.

You leaned your shoulder against the doorframe, cradling your mug like a second heartbeat, and watched as he set her down gently in the grass.

She ran to collect her toys, then circled back to show them to him, one by one. He listened intently, nodding, asking questions, holding each worn figure like it was made of glass. The red shimmer in his eyes hadn’t faded. It never did fully around her.

She was the only one who brought it out so easily, so softly.

The night began to deepen, the orange bleeding to navy, the violets dimming to shadow. Crickets stirred in the brush, and fireflies blinked alive along the fence posts.

Still, you didn’t move.

Just watched them.

Your two miracles.

One born from your body. One who stumbled to your doorstep and never left.

They didn’t match.

Not by the eye.

But they fit.

Perfectly.

And as your daughter threw herself back into Remmick’s arms with another squeal, and he caught her like he’d been born to do it, you let the last of the day fade away.

Right here, where your heart was fullest.

Right here, where the hollowness had been filled not with noise or company, but with love—so quiet and consuming it could only be called home.

[decayingearf]

Heyy, can I request head cannons of how Smoke shows his love as a lover & dad, w acts of service being his love language pls 🙏🏽🙏🏽

I love your work btw! 🤍💐

elijah moore headcannons

- he is so at peace when he’s at home with his you and your son.

➜ today was one of the most quietist days you and your family had came across in a while. no company, no distractions. just you and your boys. elijah loved that. “baby,” elijah spoke causing you to look up. “ej says he not feelin’ good, im gonna go get him some medicine” to which you sat up and met his gaze seeing his pained expression. “im sure it’s just a stomach bug baby—some other kids in the neighborhood have been getting it but, okay be safe, i love you.” you’d reassure before he leans down over the couch, kissing you gently and carefully. “i love you” he told before making a beeline for the door.

- when you’re on your period he’s super determined to get you whatever you want and need.

➜ grumpy didn’t even begin to explain the bad you mood you’d been in all week. you were being bratty really. elijah noticed and was sympathetic so, instead of taking your snarky comments to heart—he emphasized. you were laying on the couch reading when your husband walked in with a dozen store bags. “hey, i got some stuff” he spoke first lifting the bags in his hands for you to see. “i see” you responded not too interested in what he had gotten oblivious to the fact that half of the things were for you. he rounded the corner of the couch, placing the bags in your lap. you noticed the type of ice cream you like and started raiding the bags. smoke watched from a distance, proud of himself. he also noticed the tears welling in your eyes that you dared to fall. elijah walked over to the couch with a sort of wry smile and offering a warm embrace. he loved taking care of you

- smoke is a great husband because he’s attentive.

➜ you had been feeling kind of down and out. you didn’t even have to bring it up to your husband, he had seen the way you changed in the past few days. he didn’t say a word and instead, got you a edible arrangement with a heartfelt letter stating how thankful he was to have you. how you were not only a strong woman but a strong mother and wife, as well. the present made you feel so seen. the next morning was no different. you woke up to an empty bed bedroom rising to your feet to look for your man. you entered the living space to find him and your son fixing breakfast. “ good mornin’ mommy!” the little boy spoke happily, “daddy’s lettin’ me cook” you smiled at his enthusiasm. “he wanted to help me cook for you” smoke told giving you a half smile. you approached the boy sitting on the counter and scooped him up onto your hip, gently placing a kiss on his forehead before doing the same to his elder.

[altschmerzes]

Violently shaking at the concept of roy looking after baby Jamie 😭😭😭😭

LITERALLY ME TOO and boy howdy is there so much of that to come. im like. climbing the walls looking forward to getting to it abskss

[formulaonecrumbs]

we miss you 😕

dad!Lando Norris x mom!reader

summary: charlie, their 5yo son, didn’t want lando to leave for race week. though, he manages to sneakily message him from your phone

warnings: possibility of getting baby fever (i did)

A/N: i have such bad baby fever it’s crazy. i’ve literally wanted a kid since i was 12 so this fic is just feeding my delusions (when r they not) anyways i hope u enjoy! love u, sweethearts ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the night before he left, charlie wouldn’t let go of his leg.

lando was standing in the hallway with his suitcase, trying to zip it up while charlie clung to him like a koala, arms tight around his thigh and face squished into the side of his leg.

“mate,” lando laughed, running a hand through his hair, “i need that leg. i kinda use it for walking.”

charlie didn’t budge. he mumbled something that sounded like don’t go into the fabric of lando’s sweatpants.

you were standing nearby with your arms crossed, trying not to melt at the sight. “he’s been like this all day,” you said softly. “he even asked if we could hide your passport.”

lando looked down at the little bundle of clinginess stuck to him and sighed. “charlie,” he said gently, crouching down. “come here, buddy.”

charlie let go just enough for lando to scoop him up and hold him close. he wrapped his arms around lando’s neck immediately, sniffing into his hoodie.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he mumbled. “i missed you all the christmas time and now you’re gonna be gone again.”

lando pressed a kiss into his curls. “i know. i missed you too. but i’m only going for a few days. i’ll call every night. and guess what?”

charlie blinked at him, lip wobbling.

“i’m gonna bring you back something super cool from the paddock. like… something very secret and race-car-ish.”

charlie considered this. “like a tire?”

lando grinned. “okay, maybe not that big. but something cooler.”

they stayed like that for a while. you were the one who eventually had to say, “lando, the car’s outside.”

he hugged you tightly at the door, whispered something about texting when he landed and to kiss charlie for him if he’s asleep by the time you get back inside.

but charlie wasn’t asleep. not really. you found him sitting on your bed with your phone in his lap and the most innocent expression ever.

“baby,” you said. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he said way too fast, quickly locking the screen and holding the phone out to you.

suspicious. but you didn’t think much of it.

it wasn’t until later, after you were in the kitchen and finally checking your phone, that you saw it.

today at 7:41 pm

hi dady

i miss u r u in the plane yet

how meny sleeps til u come home

can u tel the car go fast so u win n come bak

do u have snak

i am waring ur hoody mummie

said its to big but i like it

i put ur hat on my bear

read at 7:45 pm ✔︎✔︎

hey buddy

i’m on the plane now

i miss you so much already

you’re wearing my hoodie??

you’re the coolest kid ever. make sure mummy takes a picture, ok?

ok but she dosnt no i took her fone

pls dont tel her

your secret’s safe with me

but maybe give it back before she finds out

ok

also can we hav pankakes when u come home

pancakes and a race car story. deal?

read at 7:56 pm ✔︎✔︎

later that night (before you’d checked your phone), when you went to tuck charlie into bed, he was already curled up in lando’s hoodie with your phone under his pillow.

you sighed, smiling, and gently took it out.

you texted lando yourself before heading to bed.

today at 10:34 pm

charlie hijacked my phone

obviously

but he misses you. a lot.

we both do.

i miss you guys more than anything

already counting the sleeps

kiss him goodnight for me ♥︎ liked by you

and save me a spot in bed for when i’m back

♥︎ liked by you

read at 10:41 pm ✔︎✔︎

you held the phone to your chest for a second before turning off the light.

three more sleeps.

THE END :>

[luveline]

so i had this silly thought the other night while i was doing a mud mask of jack stumbling upon reader (could be bombshell r, hotchner r, or whoever u would like <3) doing a mud mask and not quite understanding what it is (although r tries to explain it to him), and later on jack’s teacher tells aaron that jack and/or his friends were trying to apply mud to their faces at recess to ‘help their skin’ 😭 so then r has to clarify that u can’t just put any mud on ur face haha and maybe she offers to get some face masks for her and jack (and maybe aaron?) to try together <3 i know this is a bit of a silly idea and it may be too specific so ofc no pressure at all if this doesn’t inspire u!! u write aaron (and jack!) so well and i love everything u put out jade thank u for sharing ur writing with us <333

-💫

“Y/N, what the heck are you doing?” 

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What kind of language is that, babe? What would your daddy say if he heard you saying that?” 

Jack doesn’t even pretend to act chastened. If there’s one thing Jack Hotchner knows about you, it’s that you’re wrapped around his little finger, forever and always. It’s all you can do to keep your arms to yourself as he crawls into bed next to you. 

“Is that cucumber?” 

“Want some?” you ask. 

Jack takes a piece of cucumber and munches on it with a wet snap. “Your face has mud on it.” 

“It does.” 

“Why?” 

You peek at him through one eye. “It apparently draws out the impurities in my face. I’m not sure how it happens, but it makes my skin feel really soft when I wash it off.” 

“Oh. But it’s mud.”

“Yeah, it is, I don’t know how it happens. Must be magic.” You love Jack’s little face. He’s cute. His hair is still blonde at the ends, last bits of summer clinging to him, a tan on his pert nose. “Would you wanna try it?” 

“How long does it have to be on?” 

“About ten minutes. Or before it dries. We wash it off with a face towel.” 

“Okay. But just a little bit.” 

“Sure, babe. You can tell me if it’s too much.” 

Jack sits in front of your lap. You unscrew the pot of clay mask and use the small spreader it comes with to scoop up the mask. Cold, you whisper, but Jack giggles anyways, startled at the feeling as you smooth it over his forehead, his cheeks, and his round chin. You use your fingertips to connect the sections, colour in his nose, and smooth it out. Jack lets his eyes close in little-kid bliss, like he might fall asleep. 

“Do you want the cucumbers on your eyes?” you ask. 

“For relaxing?”

“Yeah, they’re cold too.” 

He lays back on Aaron's side of the bed and you plop on his cucumbers. Fifteen minutes later you encourage him into the bathroom to wash it away, holding his chin, warm, clay-stained water running down his neck. He insists on returning the favour, which ends in you squeezing his cheeks to tell him you love him, which makes him fluster like his father at the receiving end of a good compliment. “I love you too,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. 

“Feel how soft your cheek is,” you say. 

“I think you have to wash your face,” he says back. “Sorry.” 

It’s great. By the time Aaron’s home from work you’re both super soft and while you don’t offer any explanation, he seems to notice, lackadaisical finger against Jack's cheek prompting an inquisitive, “Jack, have you been in Y/N’s shower stuff again?” 

“No.” 

You and Jack decide to keep your relaxing afternoon a secret. You think nothing of it for a while. The next time you use your clay mask he’s sleeping at his Aunt Jess’, and Aaron asks why you’re smiling, so you tell a half truth and say you’re thinking of Jack, which makes Aaron so smiley he tries to kiss you despite the mud.

Another few days and you get Jack back, only to give him over to school. Evil school. You and Aaron go to work. It’s some time nearing 1PM when Aaron steps out of his office, buttoning his coat around his neck. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask over Emily’s head. 

Morgan copies your frown. 

“Hotch?” 

“Jack is in trouble at school. Apparently he got into a play-fight and everyone needs a change of clothes.” He gives you a look, as if to say, you gotta love him. And you really do. “I’ll be back before the end of lunch.”

“I can go?” you offer. 

“I’m already wearing my coat.” He leans over to kiss your cheek and bids you goodbye. 

You don’t see your partner again. When he fails to turn up after lunch, you figure he’s taken Jack home —Jack tends to get upset when bad stuff happens at school even if he was just having fun because of his astounding guilty conscience. Aaron texts you not long before you’re due to start worrying with a simple, Sorry, not going to make it back in today. Jack was a bit upset. 

Your boss isn’t there, so you take a session with your coworkers, standing up at your desk and clearing your throat. “Because my boss is my boyfriend and also not here, I’ve decided to bring my query to the court.” 

You wait. Your team looks at you expectantly. 

“Go ahead,” Derek says. 

“Jack was so upset at school that he had to go home. Do I, as his almost step mom and number one fan, have the group's permission to go home now so I can get him cookies from Ben’s?” 

“Aw, he was upset?” Emily says, frowning but also cooing. 

You hold your heart. “I know. He’s such a sweetheart. So, can I go?” 

“You want us to do your consultations?” Spencer asks. 

“No!” you say, tucking a stray curl behind Spencer’s ear and delighting in the way he shoves you away. He’s laughing as he does it, used to your affection. “You can if you want to, handsome, but I was just gonna finish it tonight on Aaron’s computer.”

“Just go,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes. 

“Family emergency,” Emily agrees. 

“Don’t really do my consults,” you tell Spencer, grinning when he waves you off. 

You make a pit stop at Ben’s for praline filled cookies and smile despite yourself the whole way home. You’re not worried about Jack, he has his dad, and it was only dirt, you’re just excited to see him and to ditch work and to maybe, maybe, lay your head in Aaron’s lap sometime soon. He strokes the skin behind your ear and leans down to kiss you whenever he feels like it, which means you can amass upwards of five kisses an hour. It’s elastic. 

“Babe?” you call, knocking open the door with a clatter. Shoes wait for you at the entryway. You leave your kitten heels by light up sketchers and dress shoes neatly lined. “Honey? Angel?” 

“Are you talking to me?” Aaron calls from the door of the kitchen, suddenly in view. 

“Am I in trouble?” you ask. 

Aaron checks his watch. “Oh, definitely.” 

“Personal paid time off?” 

“Sure. What’s in the bag?” 

“Oh, you know, just something special for the baby. Is he okay?” 

“He’s unhappy with me, truth be told.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Aaron holds your gaze. “Weirdly, I think you might have a better idea of the situation than I do.” 

You follow him back into the kitchen, confused and eager for an explanation. Jack’s at the door that leads to your backyard, sitting on the stoop, looking stroppy and tired and relieved to see you, which is nice. “Hey,” you say, “what’s with the frowny face, beautiful?” 

“Dad doesn’t believe me.” 

“Doesn’t believe you about what?” 

“Me and Adrian was putting mud on our faces at school because it makes us soft, like we did, but dad doesn’t think we did it.” 

“We did,” you say immediately, giving Aaron a soft, honest look, not mad at anyone and not sure where the confusion is coming from, “you’ve seen my masks, honey.” 

“Your clay mask is blue,” Aaron says. 

“Is not!” Jack says. “It’s red just like mud!” 

“Well, when me and Jack did a mask together a couple of weeks ago, it was the red one, but it was a new one. I usually use that blue one,” you say, relieved when Aaron begins to look amused rather than slightly annoyed. “It’s my fault, babe.” 

You turn to Jack. “Baby,” you say, trying your best to look serious and kind at once, “the clay mask we did together is called a mud mask, and it does have mud in it, but it’s not like the mud at school, okay? It’s probably not a good idea for you and Adrian to rub it on yourselves.” 

Jack crosses his arms in front of him, slouching. “Well, how was I s’posed to know that?” he asks, sounding about as angry as he ever gets, which isn’t much. 

Aaron sighs deeply. You’re sure you’re in for it, you’ve wasted half of everyone’s day now ‘cos you didn’t explain a simple concept, but then he says, “You love to exclude me, the both of you.” 

“What?” you ask, gasping through a laugh. 

“Doing things together and not telling me!” he insists. “If you’d let me join in, I wouldn’t have upset Jack today because I’d know why he was playing in the mud.” 

You hold his gaze, refusing to break as his smile grows and grows despite the effort he pulls into staying straight. 

“So I’m not in trouble?” Jack asks. 

Aaron smiles. “Don’t think so, Jackers, not unless you did something I don’t know about.” 

“I didn’t!” 

“Then consider yourself innocent. I’m sorry I didn’t understand you.” 

“I’m sorry for not explaining the difference,” you add. 

Jack looks at both of you, all sunny-eyed, ready to be coddled by somebody and without a favourite. “Okay, thank you. It’s not your fault you didn’t know, dad. And it’s okay about the explaining,” he says to you seriously. ”Explaining is hard.” 

Jack encroaches back into the room now he’s believed, reaching for Aaron’s legs, markedly pleased when his dad bends down to hug him. It’s an apology cuddle, but it also checks for resentment or sadness alike. Jack closes his eyes, alright with how things have worked out. 

You feel ever so slightly excluded, but you do your best to stay still, loyally waiting your turn, and rewarded handsomely when Jack finishes hugging his dad and crowds you instead, arms held up insistently. There’s no protesting when you lift him onto the counter for a better hug. When you say sorry again for technically getting him into trouble, he shakes his head. 

“Just an accident,” he says, in the tenor of a practised line, one of Aaron’s mantras sinking in. 

“Can I make it up to you? We won’t exclude dad this time.” 

Jack gets lifted from one counter to another. You let him eat one of his cookies in the bathroom (and despite his face mask) but wrinkle your nose at the idea, his dad beside him, leaning back, tie undone and t-shirt unbuttoned to the third. The slice of undershirt on display makes your week. 

Completely still as he is, you raise yourself up to draw the face mask onto Aaron’s cheeks and forehead. He laughs like Jack did at the cold, more of a giggle, but he doesn’t move. 

“It does feel like mud,” Aaron says. 

“I told you,” Jack says. There’s cookie crumbs stuck in the mask around his mouth. 

You kiss Aaron chastely. 

“Just wait for how soft this is gonna make your skin,” you say. 

“I think my skin is as soft as it’s going to get, but thank you, honey.”

[starmocha]

Hide-and-Seek [Sylus + Daughter ★ 1247 words ★ Masterlist ★ Birdie Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus shows his daughter a fun trick. A/N: Hi, hi, I’m going to try to work on the LNDS men + their kids series again. (the plushie trend going around is giving me baby fever again :’))

“…Daddy…Daddy…”

Sylus groaned softly as he woke up, hearing a tiny voice just outside his bedroom calling for him. He blinked his bleary eyes, looking at the clock. It was almost nine in the morning, but for the Onychinus leader who followed a nocturnal schedule, that meant that he had not slept for too long. He could hear the voice outside his bedroom door getting louder, hearing a little girl crying, and he instantly recognized who it was. He immediately bolted up and gotten out of bed, racing to the door in a flash.

He opened the door, his eyes softened as he saw his little girl sitting there holding tightly a Grumpy Crow plushie and wiping her eyes as she cried softly, “…Daddy…Daddy…”

He immediately scooped her into his arms, smiling softly as she buried her face into his neck, crying harder as she clung to him. He rubbed her small back and shushed her gently. “Baby, why are you sitting there crying? What happened?”

The little toddler sniffled. “I can’t find Lukey…and Kier-Kier…”

Sylus raised his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Are they not watching you?”

Sylus closed his bedroom door and walked over to his bed, sitting down and setting his daughter on his lap. He wiped at her eyes and shushed her softly again. “What do you mean you can’t find Luke and Kieran?”

The girl continued to sniffle, wiping at her runny nose furiously. She hugged her plushie tighter. “We’re playing hide-and-seek…”

Sylus immediately understood.

“I can’t find Lukey and Kier-Kier…and…I got scared…”

“Oh, baby.” Sylus immediately held his daughter closer to him. “Do you want Daddy to help you find them?”

The girl looked at her father confused. She sniffed.

Sylus smirked. “Daddy has a fun trick. Do you want to try it?”

Forgetting her tears, the girl nodded excitedly.

“Alright, hold onto me tightly now, my little birdie.”

Dropping the crow plushie, the girl wrapped her little arms tightly around her father’s neck again, and then within a flash, Sylus used his Evol, disappearing from the room, leaving behind only a faint mist of energy.

In the next instance, he reappeared in the hallway, his daughter’s giggles resounding loudly down the long, empty corridors. He shifted her in his arms and they both looked around. “Not here,” Sylus mumbled thoughtfully, hearing his daughter echoed his words. He smiled and tickled her, hearing her delightful laughter again. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. He just wanted to greedily pocket all of her laughter and smiles for himself.

He kissed her forehead. “Alright, where should we try next, baby?”

The girl hummed thoughtfully. “Kitchen?”

Sylus nodded. “Alright, kitchen it is,” he said, and they both vanished in another mist.

A moment later, the father-daughter duo reappeared in the kitchen. Sylus could faintly hear an unfamiliar noise nearby. He motioned for his daughter to be silent and she obediently covered her mouth with her two little hands. Sylus had to refrain from laughing at her adorable behavior. He whispered softly so only she could hear him, “Let’s try the pantry, baby.”

The girl nodded and clung to her father as they teleported from the kitchen to inside the pantry. A moment later, Luke let out a scream.

“That’s not fair, Little Miss!”

The girl giggled. “Lukey!” She held her arms out for the younger man and Sylus let her jumped over to Luke’s arms.

“Jeez, I didn’t think you would join in on the fun, Boss.”

“I didn’t think you two would let my daughter cry alone in the hallway.”

Even though Luke was wearing his mask, his demeanor changed the moment he heard Sylus’ words. He looked down at the little girl in his arms and apologized to her. “I’m sorry, Little Miss, were you scared?”

“A little…”

“Kieran and I will do better next time,” he promised. He smiled when the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled closer.

“Ah—Lukey, cookie!”

The two men watched the girl, confused. They followed her hand motion and looked at the shelf behind Luke to see a jar of white and pink-frosted animal-shaped cookies with little pastel-colored nonpareils sprinkles.

“Boss?”

Sylus crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, amused when his daughter turned and gave him her large, pleading puppy dog eyes. “Alright, just a few,” he said as he walked over and grabbed the jar on the shelf. He opened the jar and held it out to his daughter, watching with a smile as she happily and greedily grabbed as many as her little hands could hold. He lowered his voice and kissed her forehead as he spoke, “We won’t tell Mommy.”

He laughed when she held out a tiger-shaped cookie for him. He opened his mouth and let her feed him the cookie. It tasted sweeter than normal, Sylus thought, smiling as his daughter turned and held up a giraffe-shaped cookie for Luke, pushing up his mask enough to feed him.

“Well, thank you, Little Miss,” Luke responded, chewing his cookie.

“This one is for Kier-Kier,” the girl said, holding up an elephant-shaped cookie. She looked at her father with a pout, “Daddy…can we go look for Kier-Kier?”

“Of course, baby,” Sylus said as he took her back from Luke.

“Try the foyer,” Luke suggested, and Sylus nodded before disappearing once more.

In the next instance, Kieran’s scream could also be heard within the base.

“B-Boss?! Little Miss?”

“Kier-Kier!”

Kieran instantly caught the little girl that jumped over to him. He appeared surprised when he saw her holding something in her hand to him. “What’s this, Little Miss?”

“Cookie!”

Kieran seemed to smile under his mask as he took the cookie from the little girl. “For me? Little Miss is the sweetest,” he said as he lifted his own mask enough to eat the offered confection. “Yummy.”

“Alright, baby,” Sylus said, walking over and patting his daughter’s head, “It looks like you won this game of hide-and-seek.”

The girl giggled, looking shy. “Daddy helped…”

“Little Miss knows how to use her resources,” Kieran quipped.

“Smart little birdie,” Luke’s voice joined in as he walked into the foyer, clapping in approval.

The girl seemed to blush from embarrassment at hearing all of these proud praises. Suddenly, everyone heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching from outside. Sylus smirked as he reached over for his daughter again.

“Oh? Is that Mommy?”

The girl nodded excitedly, recognizing the sound of her mother’s motorcycle. “Mommy’s home!”

“She’s very early today,” Sylus quipped. He whispered to his daughter mischievously, “We should go greet her.”

The girl clung tightly to her father again, her own mischievous smile identical to his as they disappeared from the foyer.

A moment later, a third scream was heard at Onychinus base that morning.

“Sylus!”

With a laugh and as dark feathers drifted all around, Sylus gathered the two most precious girls in his life into his arms, mumbling softly into his wife’s ear, “Welcome home, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Mommy,” the little girl piped up, mimicking her father’s tone. She snuggled in her parents’ embrace before pulling out a cookie to Sylus’ uneasiness.

“Lion for Mommy!”

“Baby, where did you—Sylus, it’s only ten in the morning!”

“Come on, baby, let’s leave. Mommy is baring her fangs at Daddy.”

With that, Sylus disappeared again in another mist, leaving his wife yelling after him in the courtyard as their daughter giggled and snuggled closer to him.

[outtathisworld-imagines]

Thunder clatter

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x F!Reader

Warning: Smut! +18 MDNI! Oral (fem!rec), intercourse, fluff, some sad Bob, he yearns so much, dirty talk, swearing, unprotected sex- pls wrap before you tap. Not proofread 🥲

A.N: Just something cutesy with our fav 🫶🏻

Inspired by this song ⚡️

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Bob clutched onto his duvet tighter with each rumble of thunder. He had every single light on in his room with his eyes squeezed shut but with every flash of lightning and every crash of thunder the fear pooling inside was slowly drowning him.

His response was to flee.

He didn’t know where his legs were taking him he just had to get out and get away. His feet carried his body through the halls of the watchtower.

“You okay?” A voice caught his attention. “Only you’ve walked past five times already.”

He didn’t even realise he had.

He walked towards the door, the open crack allowing you to see his frantic pacing. Bob delicately opened it, seeing you sitting in the dark by the window watching the weather phenomenon with your arms wrapped around your knees, a flash of lightning brightening your body. He gripped onto the door and lightly jumped. “S-sorry,” he sniffled and you quickly stood up.

“What’s the matter Bob? Are you okay?” You approached him, the closer you got the more you could see the shine in his eyes that were filling with tears. When the thunder sounded again, a tear slipped down his cheek and he let out a broken sob.

He tried to run again but you held onto his arm “I really hate it,” he managed to say. “So much.” Before bursting and falling to his knees, he curled up on the floor in front of you.

You crouched down beside him “Hey, hey, it’s okay!” You rubbed his back soothingly. “I’m here, you can stay with me for as long as you need.” You sat down beside him and he crawled on to your pyjama clad lap, tears pouring like the rain outside. “Shhh, you’re okay.” You gently brushed your hand over his head.

“I wish it would stop,” he brokenly pleaded with Mother Nature, your heart speared with pain at the sight.

“Let’s move to the bed, huh? Will be more comfortable.” He timidly nodded and you scooped him up in your arms and gently placed him on the bed, his body framed by your sheets. You closed the door and turned on your bedside light, finally seeing the extent of his fear. His red blotchy cheeks, fresh and dried tears tattooed on his face and his eyes like the sea, now just as wet as it.

You knew the best way to take his mind from the outside elements would be to distract him.

“Did I tell you about the time I almost died?”

His features turned from tightly wound to confused. The tears momentarily stopped and he looked up to you looking more perplexed than fearful. You sat beside him as he remained lying down. “It’s true, coincidently, it’s also tied to thunder.” Now he was really intrigued. “Oh how we have very different experiences with thunder.”

He sat up, pulling the ends of his pyjama sleeves to wipe away his tears “W-what do you mean?”

“Well…it was stupid, so Thor-“

“Thor?!” Bob excitably yelped “You know Thor?!” He was acting like a kid at Christmas, it made you laugh.

“Yeah, I mean I still do so I’ll kick his ass for making you feel like this,” you said and Bob’s smile faltered, his eyes darting to the window again. “But to the fact I almost died.” You brought his attention back to you. “When I worked as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent I was on a task force to keep an eye on Thor when he came to Earth. I used to spend most of my time in this tower actually, so if you need a good hiding spot- I’ll show you them all. But I digress. Anyway, at this point I had never been struck by lightning before but I always thought it would be so cool to experience it so I could give people electric shocks.” Bob raised a brow, slowly nodding at your story. “So I said to Thor I bet I can get shocked first time without thunder, he took me outside saying that couldn’t be the case, that the two elements were ‘tied in unison’ or some crap, tried to show me, failed, I was essentially projected off the balcony by lightning and the god of thunder himself had to save before I hit the ground.”

“Holy shit!” Bobs tears had almost vanished, his mind completely distracted from the thunder clattering outside. “What happened after that?”

“Well after a hospital visit, Thor and I remained close friends, I even attempted to wield Mjölnir.” You reminisced.

Bob laughed “What the hell is Me-mil-mal- what?” He continued laughing, holding his head in his hands “What even is that name?!” He fell further into your bed in a fit of giggles, fearful tears turning into ones of joy.

“His hammer!” You caught his contagious laughter “His hammer, Bob.” You fell back beside him “I could never move it an inch, was never as worthy as the mighty Thor.” You clasped your hands over your stomach with a sigh, thinking about all the memories this tower held for you- the good and the bad.

“Were you looking out for him?”

Bobs voice tore you away from your thoughts. “For who? For Thor?” You chuckled “No! Not always, why would you think that?” You turned and faced him, he looked flustered.

And not just from the crying.

“I dunno, guess you guys would maybe be more than friends now with everything you faced?” He shrugged, making his assumptions known.

“Oh c’mon Bob he is a literal god and I’m just…me.” You rationalised. “Besides, we aren’t like that, we are just friends, he’s like a brother to me actually. A weird hammer wielding, very much older, completely opposite brother.”

Bob was looking in your eyes, rain battering off the window louder as a silence filled your room. “Why do you say that?” You sent him a questioning look. “That you’re ‘just you’. That’s the best, you’re the best, you’re wonderful.” You rolled your eyes and chortled at the comment, rather than accepting it you waved it away. “You would make quite an attractive couple…” he muttered, almost bitterly at the thought, under his breath.

Without missing a beat your lips spilled your internal thoughts. “And we wouldn’t?”

Your room turned just as heavy and as thick with pressure as outside. Except it wasn’t the weather that had seeped through the cracks of your window frame, it was something that was always there making itself suddenly known.

You always had a soft spot for Bob. His timid nature meant you always were in inclined to protect him. You both formed a close bond between your past struggles and hatred of doing dishes. Bob was able to strike you even more intense than that bolt of lightning.

As for Bob, he fell and was falling even harder by the day. Your laugh brought him back from even the most unhappy days, your smile lit up the whole tower. He never believed a person could truly help him heal until he crashed into you that day in the underground warehouse.

But your words that so effortlessly slipped off your tongue still hung proudly in the air.

You saw the faintest tinge of pink on Bobs cheeks. He saw your eyes widen at the admission.

A faint smile danced across his lips as he reached out trying to find your hand. “Val once said I was a god, but it’s different for me, I guess.” He began. “But god or not, I would have searched every universe, every shame room and every good hiding spot in this tower for you.”

“Bob…” you whispered under your breath, competing against the thunder that he now couldn’t hear, his attention still dedicated to you.

“And you’re right.” He said with conviction, confidence suddenly surging through him like he had been struck by lightning too, the space between you both now vanishing. “We would make an attractive couple.” Your soft laugh was cut short as his lips met yours, he felt an unmissable spark, he wondered if it was from the bolt of lightning that once struck you all those years ago from the contact of your lips against his. The kisses were soft at first but then turned into just as much conviction as moments ago when he spoke from his whole chest. You let out a strained moan as he wrapped himself around you, lips not parting for one second as you sunk into the bed.

Your hand found his head, fingers intertwining with his locks of slightly disheveled hair. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve felt like this,” you admitted between his now sporadic kisses, his eyes wanting to gaze at every part of you as his hands familiarised themselves with every curve of your torso.

Bob widely smiled “I promise you it’s just as long as I have, if not me feeling like this a lot longer,” he bashfully told you. You leaned into him this time, passionately kissing him and rolling him over, his back to your bed and your chest pressed against his, his legs moving to accommodate yours. The thunder clatter and lightning strikes continuing as the rain battered against the window, the thunder was moving on now, he remained intertwined with you.

“Please,” you gently tugged at his pyjama top “Please put me out of my misery, Bob.” You pleaded and he smirked.

“Oh? Just how can I do that?” His tone was a teasing one, fully knowing that it was the same way he would be put out of his own misery too.

After months of yearning, both of you knew making out wasn’t going to cut it.

His arms tightly snaked around your waist as your hands cupped this face, Bob’s hips involuntarily rising at the action and making you moan between kisses. He rolled you over, his kisses becoming as frantic as yours before he sat up a little and peeled off his pyjama top, you gasped at the sight of his muscular torso. “I’m one lucky girl…” you said before biting down on your lip, your fingertips tracing over every ridge of his toned abdomen.

Bob was bashful at your words, he skilfully removed his pyjama bottoms and remained in his boxers. “I’m the lucky one,” he said between kisses “You’re so beautiful. So caring, you care so much for me…” his head dipped slightly and your lips pressed against his forehead.

“You deserve so much, so much more than you realise.” He looked up to you, eyes slightly glossy. “I’m just as lucky having you in my life.” You returned the favour and you took the hem of your pyjama top between your fingers and pulled it off. Bob made no attempts to hide his sheer awe of you, eyes wide, jaw virtually hitting your bed and a gasp of air leaving his lungs at the sight of you. You playfully pushed his shoulder in jest at his reaction “Oh stop it you.”

“Oh never ever,” he said so quietly it sounded like he was exhaling a breath. “God, you’re so perfect. So utterly perfect.” He placed soft. opened mouthed kisses down your neck and trailed his lips down your chest, his lips grazing almost teasingly over your nipples before you whined and he kissed over one while groping the other. His tongue swirling over your sensitive skin as your fingers threaded through his hair.

His hand slowly reached down to the band of your pyjama bottoms, almost as if he was asking a silent permission to go further, with your ever loudening moans he took that as a yes. Your eyes met his, his mouth still kissing your bare chest as his hand moved further down until it reached your hot, wet core. “Please…” you softly whined and you could feel Bob smirk against your skin. He stopped kissing your chest and moved to your lips, his against your own as he let his fingers rub your warm pussy. You gasped at the contact and he moaned into your mouth feeling how wet you were already. “Bob…” you breathlessly mewed as he increased his place, you gripped onto his bicep as your legs started to tense. He sunk a finger into you, you allowed a soft swear to slip from your lips before moaning out a louder one at the sensation of both his fingers inside your tight pussy.

“You like that baby? So fucking wet for me already.” He growled, his mask slipping and showing that his other side was a far cry from the weeping, curled up figure lying on your lap earlier. Now you were the one on the verge of weeping tears of sheer pleasure and your body curling as the coil inside you started to tightly wind. “I need to feel you, wanna feel how warm and wet and tight you are.” He softly begged as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Please tell me I can do that, Y/N, please tell me…”

“Yes! God yes!” You burst, not even worrying if anyone in the tower heard, your pleads competing with the clashes of thunder that had virtually disappeared. “I want you, Bob! God…I need you!” You groaned feeling his hand moving out and away, you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked you from them, his eyes dark as his tongue tasted you for the first time.

“Fuck…” he groaned and then ripped off your pyjama bottoms in desperation. You gasped at the sharp sound of tearing fabric. “I’ll get you a new pair,” he mumbled “I need to taste you properly.” Before you could say anything your mouth gaped open feeling his mouth against your pussy, the wet slick sounds of the frantic lapping with his tongue filling the room louder than the heavy rain against the windows. You gripped onto Bob’s hair and rolled your hips to push his face in deeper, making him moan and leaving him desperate for air.

But he was more desperate for you.

“You taste so fucking sweet, like goddamn honey,” he moved his head to kiss your inner thighs and catch his breath. “Fuck, need you now. I can’t wait anymore.” Bob made quick work of his boxers and then aligned himself with you, his hands being either side of your head allowed you to hold onto his wrists, you could feel his pulse under your fingertips, as quick as fast-rolling thunder. He leaned down and let his lips crash against yours again, allowing you to taste yourself as he thrust his hips forward and his cock into you. His fingers tightly gripped onto your sheets as yours dug into his skin, moaning in unison feeling him stretch you and fill you perfectly. “Shit, were you made for me?” He strained, not quite finding the strength to move yet because if he did, he was convinced he’d instantly cum. “You were made for me.” He admitted in a whisper across your lips before he kissed them again.

He moved his hips just a fraction before finding a steady rhythm, one that drew the most glorious moans from your throat and gasps of air from your lungs. “Yes! Oh, fuck Bob, so good. So. Fucking. Good!” That ever tightening coil being wound even more with each thrust. Bobs lips haphazardly kissed points on your face every so often between grunts and growls.

“Fuck, I gotta…gotta see you take me…” his words were practically tossed from his mouth as he raised himself up onto his knees and watched his cock being swallowed whole by your pussy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! You take my cock so fucking good!” He shuddered out, the sight sending him to an edge he was going to fall from. You gripped into his hips, desperately moving them faster as you reached your climax “Yes! That’s it Y/N, cum for me, you need to cum on my cock, please, god, YES!” He screamed when you couldn’t, your mouth gaping open and a sound so high leaving it that under normal frequency couldn’t be heard.

Watching you cum under him, Bob barely lasted a few seconds longer, with a loud moan as broken as the clatter of thunder he came inside you, the sensation surging a new wave of admiration for you.

He softly collapsed onto you and you held him tightly, soft kisses grazing one this sweat laced forehead as you stoked his hair. “That was…wow…” you tiredly chuckled while catching your breath, barely finding strength inside you to speak. “You’re…wow.”

Bob smiled, looking up to you as he rested his chin on your thumping chest. “Thank you so much,” he said.

Your brow creased slightly “For what?”

“Everything,” his smile was getting wider. “For what happened just now, for always being you,” he began to list off points that, even if he lived to be a two hundred years old, would never get through them all. “For taking care of me,” his hand caressed your cheek and his thumb gently brushed over your skin. “For finding me in the middle of a thunderstorm and taking all my fear away.”

You softly smiled, tears welling in your eyes at sweet words. The rumbling thunder had stopped, so had the lightning and the rain had subsided. Neither of you had noticed until now.

—•—

You paced the balcony, waiting for an arrival.

It had been four months since you and Bob first faced his fear of thunder, ending with him waking up the next morning beside you and asking if you’d like to be his girlfriend.

You of course said yes.

You looked up to the sky “Always late…” you tutted to yourself, trying to make this moment a surprise for Bob. Suddenly your arms felt a wave of static running down them and a shiver ran up your neck. You could sense it since being struck by lightning. You could sense his arrival.

A rumble surrounded you and then a flash blinded you, in the midsts of that, a figure.

“The mighty agent Y/N Y/L/N!” A voice boomed and engulfed you in a hug so tight your feet left the ground and you heard your back crack.

“It’s good to see you too Thor,” he placed you down “Thanks for coming, he’s going to be so happy to finally meet you.”

The god of thunder let out an amused grunt, twirling Mjölnir. “And I him too, a man who has captured your heart is surely to be a great and worthy one.” You led him through the watchtower, he took in how different it looked. He took in the people he loved and cherished missing from spots they once stood.

“I know it’s strange being here again,” you noticed his lingering looks in hallways “I appreciate you visiting.”

Thor brushed it off “Anytime and most importantly anything for you.” He placed down Mjölnir by the side of the sofa and waited as you called for Bob, the system notifying him to meet you in the living room.

“He’s such fan of yours. He’s going implode with excitement,” you bit down on your lip as a grin formed around it. “I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

Thor couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of happiness for you. “You must really like this Robert,” he said “I’m glad to see you so happy.” You thanked him with a nod.

Bob made his way to you, the doors opened to reveal not just you to him but also Thor. “O-oh! Oh my god!” He yelped and jumped on the spot “Holy shit! Y-y-you’re him!” He rushed forward “You’re Thor!”

His full body was practically shaking at the sight of the god and you couldn’t help but laugh. “He is!” You watched him bounce around like an excitable puppy. “Thor, this is Bob, Bob this is Thor.” You formally introduced them both.

“Dude!” Bob placed his head in his hands “This is such an honour!”

Thor heartily chuckled “The pleasure is mine, especially to meet someone who makes my dearest friend so happy.” He held out his arms and Bob practically jumped into them, Thor giving him a tight squeeze.

You watched from the sofa as they both interacted, laughed, shared stories, embarrassed you with said stories to the point you cut them off by offering more lemonade.

“I’ll get it, Y/N,” Bob offered with a smile and headed to the kitchen.

You watched him with your lips curved upwards as he vanished. “He is a kind man, Y/N. I am glad you have him.”

You liked at Thor and bashfully grinned “Yeah, I’m glad I have him too.”

Bob returned and placed the lemonade on the table in front of you both. You and Thor both grabbed a glass, Bob raised a brow at the odd item by the sofa and bent down to pick it up.

“Did you drop this Thor?”

Your glass fell to the floor while Thor’s shocked grip shattered his own at the sight before you both.

Bob was standing with Mjölnir in his hand.

[emmyrosee]

C-can we have baby megumi call reader mom for the first time 🥺👉👈

YOU TRYNA KILL ME 🥺

——-

The movie is just about over when you meet your gaze with toji, who’s half asleep on the couch next to you. He smiles exhaustedly before flicking his eyes down to megumi, who’s fast asleep in your lap. Bedtime was hours ago, but ever the stubborn one, Megumi insisted on watching the movie with you both, changing the subject from horror to family friendly.

He was sound asleep not fifteen minutes in. Your thighs are tingling with numbness, but you would never dare waking the small boy.

“I’ll clean up toys, you wanna do bedtime?” He asks. You hum happily and scoop the small boy in your arms, smiling as he stretches before nuzzling closer. “Kid’s getting big.”

“Never too big to be tucked in,” you mewl, shifting Megumi slightly. He smacks his tiny lips together.

“Maybe he’s too big for ya-“

“No, he’s not, he’s perfect, back off,” you hiss quickly, making Toji snicker and shake his head. You carry him down the hall to his bedroom, plopping down on the small bed and cradling him close. His cheek is warm against your hand, and you press a tiny kiss to his forehead adoringly.

“Your dad’s crazy,” you whisper to the small boy, brushing his hair out of his face. “But I guess we’ll keep him, yeah?”

“Mmhm,” megumi huffs, knuckling his eye. You smile roll your thumb over the swell of his cheeks.

“Go back to sleep, ‘gumi,” you coo, shifting the blanket to slot him under. He quickly burrows under the warmth, nuzzling into his pillow. His cheeks are reddening with sleep, and just as you make a move to leave, he paws for your hand.

“Mumma…”

The room is still, save for Megumi’s rhythmic breathing. His tiny fingers grip onto your ring finger, holding tightly. His little lips are smooshed against the pillow as he sleeps, but you however, couldn’t breathe, too overcome with emotions over just what megumi said.

Mumma. He called you his mumma, he trusted you enough, loves you enough to give you that title, and your bottom lip wobbles as your thumb strokes over his tiny fingers. Tears roll down your cheeks and splatter onto the sheets below you, darkening the fabric underneath. Your free hand comes up to cover your mouth, worrying about waking him with your sobs.

Your body trembles with emotion, exhilaration and excitement coursing through you, and you try your best to keep it all composed.

“M-Mumma’s he-re, baby,” you choke, squeezing his hand gently.

You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there, watching him sleep, but it’s long enough where toji comes to seek you out.

“Jeez,” he grumbles, voice low to keep his son from waking up. “How long does it take-“ he softens at the sight of your tears. “The hell happened?”

“He called me mumma,” you explain, sniffling and shaking your head. “He’s just… never done that.” At your explanation, toji chuckles and stalks into the bedroom, big hand resting on your back and rubbing soothing circles to ground you.

He hums, “what can I say? The booger likes you.”You look up at him with a smile, and he uses his free hand to wipe a tear from your eye. “And I got no complaints about your company either.”

You gently ease your hand out of Megumi’s grip, moving his stuffed dog from one side of his bed and into his arms, which he subconsciously grabs and nuzzles into.

“I like him, too,” you whisper. You look back up at toji, and immediately, raise your arms. “And I’ll like you too if you carry me to bed.”

He groans softly, “the kid is right here-“

“If you really love me you’ll do it,” you tease. Toji rolls his eyes and hunches over to get you onto his back, shushing you as you giggle and climb on.

“You tryna wake the brat up?” He grunts, carrying you out and closing the door behind him.

“He’s not a brat.”

“You’re a brat.”

You kiss his temple wetly, “so what?”

“I’ll give you so what,” he grumbles, stalking through the halls.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ KISS IT BETTER ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: he's surprisingly popular with kids, even if he doesn't quite know how to behave around them.

contents: fem!reader. he curses a couple times in front of the kid :&lt;;

author's note: i don't rly like this one but it's fluff and we could all use a little fluff in our lives ꨄ︎

"why is it so... small?"

you snicker at satoru's question and watch the kid exploring his room waddle around. one of his mom's friends asked him to watch her kid, so naturally, the first thing satoru did was call you. after all, he's basically the last person you'd want alone with a small child.

"she's so cute," you coo, hopping on satoru's bed and lying down on your stomach. the child in question turns her head and looks at you with soft doe eyes and tilts her head like a puppy. "aw, satoru, c'mere and look at her!"

your boyfriend shakes his head, still seated in front of his computer. satoru's not live right now, but he's focused on his screen as he jumps and dodges various obstacles. "can't right now, give me a sec— what the fuck?"

"language!" you hiss, sliding off of his bed and covering the small girl's ears. 

she looks up at your curiously, and in the cutest voice possible, repeats satoru's words with a wide smile. "what the fuck?"

it's all you can do to stop yourself from bursting into a fit of laughter, but as expected, satoru doesn't have that kind of self-restraint. when the girl says fuck, satoru laughs so hard that he leans back in his chair, not even noticing how another user eliminates him a second later.

"shit, that's so— sorry, i'm sorry!" satoru snorts, eyes tearing up with laughter. you glare at him and bite down your smile before snatching a pillow off his bed and hurling it at him. satoru catches it with one hand and buries his face in it to muffle his laughter.

you swat his shoulder with one hand and take the little girl's hand in the other as you plop down on the corner of satoru's bed. it's almost painful to swallow back the laughter threatening to tear you apart, but you figure that out of you and satoru, one of you has to be the mature one.

so you scoop up the little girl and hold her in your lap as she flutters her eyelashes at you innocently. you tap her nose and lean in, almost melting at the way she smiles back at you. 

"don't listen to him," you sigh, sticking your tongue out at satoru, who's still laughing away. he makes a face back at you, and, to his delight, the kid mimicks his expression.

"baby, you were so right," satoru snickers as he hops off his plush chair and strolls over to where both of you sit on the edge of his bed. he flicks the girl's forehead, but thankfully, his touch is gentle and feather-light. satoru's eyes soften as he studies the kid, and to your surprise, he lifts her out of your lap and ruffles her hair.

"she's so adorable," he whines, letting the girl pinch his cheek. satoru turns and widens his eyes at you in adoration. "i wanna keep her!"

you roll your eyes affectionately and stand up, leaning against his side and scrunching up your nose at the girl. "don't you have a game to get back to?" you huff.

"what game?" he replies, preoccupied with the child in his arms. satoru leans his face in closer to hers, and to your surprise and delight, she swats him in the nose. "oww, the fuck was that for?" he wails. satoru looks at you and pouts, glaring at the smiling child. "i think i need a kiss to make the pain go away," he says hopefully, eyes focusing on you. 

"am i really taking care of two kids?" you grumble, leaning in and kissing him on the nose. satoru nudges his nose against yours and his lips gently brush against your mouth.

you give satoru a second to enjoy your personal space, and then you shove him away. "we have an audience," you deadpan, gesturing at the girl still in his arms. her eyes look like they're fluttering closed, and her features soften with sleepiness.

satoru sticks out his tongue and sets down the girl on his bed, nestling her head in one of his many pillows and tucking her in. "you don't have a problem with me kissing you in front of eight thousand people," he huffs. 

"that's different!"

"no it isn't!"

[jakeswifeyyy]

Jungwon smut pls:)

OK guys hear me out I can't be the only one heavy on the jungwon x making out agenda like this man is just so good at it.

Pairings:Bf! jungwon x Gf! reader.

Warnings:Making out,cunnilingus,cum eating,use of aphrodisiac chocolates,like if I forgot anything.

Bf!Jungwon,who both of you were a very shy couple,furthest point of intimacy attained was kissing,never any tongue involved,not than any was inexperienced and He did watch some porn videos for research purposes wanting to make his girl feel good.

Bf!Jungwon who heard about some aphrodisiac chocolates online and bought them not letting you know what it was as he gave it to you,because he knew both of you wanted to progress further in intimacy but both too shy,feeling bad he decided to sit down with you and tell you about it to which you happily agreed.

Bf!Jungwon,who was now staring straight into you,gaze dark with lust as you shyed away from his gaze but no he wasn't having it,beckoning you to move closer before crashing his lips onto yours ,he was always a gentleman this time manners being kicked out the door but you loved him this way.

Bf!Jungwon whom you were now sitting on his lap ,20 minutes later as the effects of the chocolate,aggressively making out,sloppy messy kisses,but neither caring just wanting to feel more of the other up,taking off his glasses,he looked so hot in that moment as he was a complete 180 degree flip of his usual self,groping your ass and tits occasionally.

Bf!Jungwon,who carried you to the bed stripping you both off of your clothing as you traced your hands all over his muscular chest,holding your hand,both your confidence boosted a hundred times more,he guided it to his clothed hard in grinding against your hand as he bit his lip moaning at the contact while you stared up at him innocently.

Bf!Jungwon who takes his time to taste every inch of your skin making sure to mark you,to remind all those boys who drooled like puppies after you,you were taken.

Bf!Jungwon who loves hearing your pretty moans as he ate you out and you bucked up into his face ,using his head as leverage to guide him,using him but he wasn't complaining,he infact loved that.

Bf!Jungwon who told you to take off his briefs,audibly gasping at his size as he smirked,he had a lengthy veiny cock and he knew it and new just how to use It.

Bf!Jungwon who has you screaming his name out for the neighbours to know,both of you not in your right minds to give a fuck at the moment,they saw you as the quiet innocent kids,how would they know.

Bf!Jungwon who starts rubbing your clit in fast circles when you tell him you're close,as he pounds into you,deep,slow strokes,grinding against you causing friction on your clit with every time he bottomed out as you shamelessly groaned your name.

Bf!Jungwon who keeps making you cum nearly 5 more times that night ,the chocolate increasing boh your sex drives to heights not known by both of you,but as they say you live and you learn.

Bf!Jungwon who goes down on you again wanting to taste your cum mixed together with his ,shamelessly lapping at your cunt,your entrance slowly leaking both your cum as he greedily gulped it all down before coming back up to kiss you because you begged for a taste too,scooping it up with 2 fingers before shoving it in your mouth,watching you suck on his fingers containing himself not to fuck you again ,make you cum for the 6th time.

Bf!Jungwon who is big on aftercare getting a wet towel and cleaning up your mess from between your legs and changing the now soaked sheets,before getting you in his t-shirt as he cleaned up and wore some sweatpants cuddling in with you as you lazily made out.

Bf!Jungwon who was shy again the next morning back to his usual self as you teased him.

[letsdosciencetoit]

WIP Wednesday! - BuckTommy 5+1 - Part 6b

"Just a short little +1 to wrap up my 5+1 story" I say as I type up another 1000 words of the final part without finishing it.

5 times the 118 worries about telling Buck that Tommy got married and 1 time they realize they didn't have to.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 +1 a

1b - Maddie

Buck couches down next to Chimney, eye level with Jee, and in his most serious voice admits to her, “Jee, I did get a puppy.  Her name is Quinn.  Would you like to meet her?”

Jee, to her credit, looks up at Maddie for permission before she turns back to Buck and nods enthusiastically.

He scoops her up under the arms and picks her up again to carry her out the back doors.  She starts talking a mile a minute, asking questions about the dog while Maddie and Chimney follow at a more sedate pace with Robert still in his car seat.

Maddie takes time to take in the main floor of the house as they pass through it. The kitchen is neat, without much in the way of food or supplies lying out.

What catches Maddie off guard is that all of the doors are closed.  With the loft, everything was open without any privacy.  Despite the open concept kitchen and living room, the house seems a little more closed off than the loft, or even Eddie’s place would have been.

Buck has left the patio doors open; large, sliding glass doors that span the whole wall. The open onto an expansive backyard that has a concrete wall at the far end and greenery that gives privacy from the neighbours. 

The backyard is definitely set up for a party. There are tables scattered about the yard, and a raised wooden dance floor set up in the middle. There’s an outdoor kitchen area close to the house, with a bar space set up.  To one side, there’s a fire pit and chairs, to the other is a small grassy area with a large dog pen set up where Jee sits squealing as a small beagle puppy tries to climb into her lap and lick her face.

Jee is nearly beside herself with joy, and Buck sits beside her, knees hugged to his chest, basking in it.  Maddie can’t remember the last time she’s seen him this happy.

The puppy spots the newcomers, and lets out a few  more yips.  Buck stands up, and motions for them to join him.  “You guys are a little earlier than I expected.  Do you mind watching Quinn with Jee while I get changed and make sure everything is ready to go?”

Chimney nods, and Maddie can tell he’s calculating what kind of mental manouvering he’s going to have to do with Jee to convince her they can’t get a dog.  She is already head over heels with this puppy.

Robert starts to wake up, face scrunching, and arms stretching out adorably. 

“Do you mind if I come inside with you?” Maddie asks.  “Just let me know where I can set up to change Robert, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Buck seems a little put off buy the suggestion, like he didn’t want her back in the house, but he says, “Sure!  Follow me – I can show you the guest room we have set up for Jee.  That can be yours for tonight if Robert needs a quite place, or you need to get a little quite time yourself.”

Maddie nods gratefully and follows him inside.  Buck leads her one of the closed doors on the main floor, and cracks it open for her.  It’s a small room with a single bed and a small pack and play set up.  There’s a small glider set up in one corner, and a small kids table and book shelf set up in another.  The room is packed, but Maddie catches that the bookshelf is full of Jee’s favourites. 

“Buck,” Maddie tries to say, eyes welling up with tears.  “You put this room together for the kids?”

Buck offers her a shy smile, like he was embarrassed to be caught out.  “Well, yeah.  I know you guys are still finding your own routine, but I wanted you to be comfortable coming to visit, especially if you wanted to get out of your house for a break.”

The tears start coming in earnest, and Buck takes a step back.  “No. I’m sorry Maddie.  I didn’t mean to over step.”

Maddie shook her head vehemently, and tried to scrub the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.  “It’s the damn hormones. Buck, it means so much to me that you would do this.  I’ve been so worried that you’ve been pulling away from all of us, but I know you needed the space out of the shadow of the 118.  And you’ve clearly been flourishing with these changes.  I just wasn’t sure you wanted to make room for us in this new life.”

“Awe Maddie, no,” Buck sighed, puling Maddie in for a hug.  “I’m always going to need my big sister, and you, Chim and the kids are always going to be my family.  I just needed some space to figure out who I was when I wasn’t Buck from the 118.”

Maddie pulls back from the hug, and looks up at Buck.  “And did you figure it out.”

He smiled back at her. “Yeah. I think I did.”

The moment was ended by the sound of something crashing on the floor above.

“Is someone else here?” Maddie asked, and she would have pressed further but Robert decided test out his lungs and voice his displeasure of at being left in the car seat.

Buck shook his head. “Must be some boxes upstairs falling over. I haven’t had the chance to unpack everything just yet.  You settle Robert.  I’ll check out what it was and meet you back outside.”

Buck left, closing the door as he did, and Maddie went to work undoing the buckles on Robert’s seat.  She pulled him out and held him close to her chest while she took in the room Buck had set up for her kids.  It was even painted her favourite colour, with a border of unicorns around the ceiling.  She breathed in the smell of Robert’s hair and felt more settled that she had in months. 

Next part

Tag List: @fenrirscarsback, @gayjaytodd, @wiay04, @daughterofscotland, @thuperrah, @anniegraceinreallife, @v88sy @chemistry66, @partofthelouniverse, @teabroomsandbooks, @buffaluff, @theallyandhisbeast, @mysterious-skin

[myownwholewildworld]

A DARK COMFORT ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

series masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: it is that time of the month and Joel helps you by fucking the pain out of you. a/n: joel is the type of man who loves his woman every day of the month and i will die on this hill. this is purely self-indulgent, sorry not sorry? as always, comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated <3 take care! x warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp honestly. period sex. period blood. use of a menstrual cup. reader is dealing with period pain, cries a fair bit. cock as pain management. cockwarming. unprotected piv. creampie. mind the hefty age gap (reader is 19, joel is 56, oopsie). pet names (kiddo, daddy's girl, little girl, etc). daddy kink. dom!joel, sub!reader. ddlg dynamics. a bit of mean!joel too. a sprinkle of slut shaming. reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair. only reader's pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~2.5k. divider by @\cafekitsune

You squirmed, pain radiating from your womb in all directions, your toes curling under the bedsheets and fingers tight into fists.

This didn’t happen every month, but when it did, it hit you like a motherfucking truck, almost rendering you unconscious. Your period could be a bitch sometimes, making you feel moody and restless. Like now. Your uterus had a mind of her own, wanting to escape and run free into the world. The pain was blinding, disarming you until you were a sobbing ball on Joel’s bed, desperately clutching at your lower belly, begging for this to be over.

But your cramps were not the worst part of it, no.

Your boobs were. They were so sensitive, the light brush of your bra hurt like hell. Heavy and swollen, they were extremely sore to the touch. Your nipples had tautened, buds painfully wrinkling — your areolas were so oversensitive it felt overwhelming. You couldn’t even touch them without tearing up.

“Kiddo?” Joel called from the living room, but you didn’t answer.

You were focusing all your energy on keeping the pain at bay, couldn’t think of anything else right now. So out of it you were, you hadn’t noticed Joel had entered the room until he sat beside you on the mattress.

“What’s wrong?” he husked, the palm of his calloused hand rubbing your back.

Your brows furrowed, the pain from your lower back momentarily chased away by his caress.

“I'm hurting real bad, daddy. My belly, my back, m-my boobs...” You whispered, pouting, trying to stop the tears.

“My little girl is hurting?” he tsked, his hand moving from your lower back to the swell of your ass. “Can’t have that. Let daddy help you, kid.”

Without voicing your agreement, Joel’s fingers hooked around the elastic hem of your pyjama pants and tugged at them whilst curled up on your side.

You writhed a little when your bottoms and underwear were pulled down to your ankles.

“Daddy... I-I’m on my period...” you sniffled, glassy eyes following the motions of his hands as he untangled the clothing from your feet and threw the items to one side.

Joel didn’t even flinch.

“So? I’m still gonna help. C’mere,” Joel palmed his lap.

You quietly obliged, sitting up on bed while pain shot in all directions. It was so intense it caught you off guard, bending over at your waist while you wailed and hugged yourself.

Joel stood up in front of you, scooping you up. Driven by pure instinct, you laced your hands behind his neck, holding on as he walked you both to the bathroom.

Once there, he put you down on the toilet bowl and coaxed your thighs apart whilst kneeling in front of you. You looked at him shyly, trying to press your thighs together, feeling really exposed right now.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel tutted at you, warm palms on your inner thighs as he pulled your legs further apart. “Nothing to be shy about, kiddo.”

As he spoke, his middle finger had found your clit and pressed it gently. But despite the softness of his stroke, it still hurt.

You hissed in pain, hips bucking up as you grabbed his shoulders, your nails leaving bloody crescent moons behind. You shut your eyes and tilted your face to the ceiling, mouthing a silent prayer.

Luckily he didn’t insist, and instead his fingers travelled further down until they found the removal ring of your menstrual cup.

When he started pulling, your eyes shot open, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from removing your menstrual cup.

“Joel...” you mumbled.

This felt so intimate, so personal, you didn’t think your hormones could take it.

“Trust me, kiddo. It’s just blood. It’ll make you feel better,” he whispered in reply at the same time he tugged at the removal ring and the cup broke its seal.

The splashing underneath sounded vile, a stream of blood dripping from your hole until the water in the bowl turned a deep shade of red.

You looked away, ashamed right now of your own body. But Joel wouldn’t let you feel the embarrassment, his words reassuring.

“I’m here to take care of you, baby. Even when you’re all moody and giving me the silence treatment for no reason whatsoever,” he said while standing up to grab a towel and wet it under the sink. Joel then crouched down in front of you again and wiped your pussy clean delicately. “You gotta learn to voice your needs, kiddo.”

“I'm sorry I’ve been a bitch to you the whole day, daddy. I just... I don’t know what I need,” you sobbed apologetically, sweeping the tears from your cheeks.

“I’ll show you what you need, so next time you know to ask for it,” he replied matter-of-factly, throwing the cup and the towel in the sink. “Can you walk?”

You nodded and submissively followed him back to the bed. Still standing there, naked from the waist down and a white tee shirt covering your chest, you watched Joel make himself comfortable on the bed.

When he unzipped his jeans, his hard erection sprung free, slapping his lower tummy. Joel scooped up his balls too, spilling over the worn fabric, and then stroked his length a couple of times.

Your pussy gushed, and you were not sure if it was your arousal or period blood. The sudden contraction of your inner walls sent a shiver up to your abdomen, another cramp making your tear up.

“Sit on him,” Joel purred, extending a hand towards you to help you get onto the bed.

“But...” you hesitated, hugging your shoulders with uncertainty. “I’m dirty, daddy.”

“Sit. on. him,” he growled, punctuating every word. “Don't make me repeat myself again.”

Still hesitant, you accepted his hand and jumped onto the bed, turning around on his lap so you were straddling him backwards. Joel’s broad hands rested gently on your hips as the flushed tip of his throbbing dick flicked your clit. You bit down your bottom lip, eyelids brimming with tears again. It was just too much, so your pussy hovered over his manhood indecisively.

“You’re not dirty, little girl. It’s blood, ain’t nothing wrong with that,” he croaked, kissing your neck.

Joel guided your hips, wiggling them a bit until his cockhead hitched in your wet entrance. Slowly he pushed you down his shaft, your cunt eagerly swallowing him whole until he was fully seated inside you, his balls kissing your swollen pussy lips.

Your walls burnt as they parted to house him, a sting of pain shooting up your body again as you gripped Joel’s forearms for support. You sobbed quietly, feeling full to the brim.

“Relax, kiddo,” Joel muttered, peppering your neck with kisses.

You took in a big breath and leaned your back against his chest. Joel didn’t move at all, letting you get used to the intrusion until you finally calmed down, the pain dissipating with every passing second. A few minutes later as you cockwarmed him, your cramps were completely gone.

Joel’s hands roamed your body, massaging your flesh gently — your thighs, your hips, your lower belly. He was so delicate but still put the right amount of pressure on your muscles to slacken.

You let go of a throaty sigh when his palm pressed against your lower belly and remained there for what seemed to be a long time. The added pressure on your womb felt good, but felt even better because now the presence of his thudding dick in your pussy was staggering. The only thing you could think about.

You circled your hips, grinding on him, but his hands were quick to clasp on your hips and stop you right in your tracks.

“I said relax, don’t move,” he ordered from behind you.

You did as told, squirming a little but remaining still.

After a while, the dull ache in your womb was gone, but the one on your breasts and nipples became more prominent. Joel felt your restlessness and without telling him what you needed of him, both of his hands drifted up your frame and below the tee shirt until they gently cupped your underboobs.

You whimpered when the textile of your bra brushed harshly against your sensitive buttons.

“Get rid of the bra and the tee shirt, they are not doing you any good, sweetheart. The fabric is just gonna hurt your pretty nipples even more,” he advised, tone raspy.

Leaning forward a bit, you removed your tee shirt and the bra quickly followed after that, flying across the room as you slouched back again against him. The moment you did, Joel began massaging your boobs, gentle but firm squeezes moulding your flesh but completely avoiding the nipples.

At first, it hurt too, your prickly buds so painful it was almost unbearable. You whined again, but that didn’t stop Joel, who kept on kneading your breasts, working and easing the swell of your bosom slowly but steadily.

“M-my nipples hurt, Joel… It’s like they are on fire… It’s too much…” you sobbed, resting the back of your head on his shoulder, little breaths reaching your lungs as you hiccupped.

“They are so sensitive, aren’t they?” You nodded, eyes shut and wet. “I know, kiddo, I know. You poor little thing…”

His tone wasn’t mocking but tinged with worry. He did care about you, otherwise Joel wouldn’t be taking all this time to ease your pain, to soothe you. And it was working, because his cock, deeply furrowed inside you, was keeping the cramps away.

“I’m gonna touch them, alright? Might hurt a little first, but the pain will go. Okay?” he husked and you shook your head yes. “Daddy’s girl is so good, so strong. Just push through the first sting of pain and you’ll be fine.”

The moment his thumbs flicked your nipples, you hummed in pain, squeezing your eyes shut, your nose wrinkling with effort as your top teeth sank into your bottom lip. You even stopped breathing as Joel pressed gentle circles on your sensitive, taut nubs.

“J-Joel… God… They hurt so bad… Please make it stop,” you sobbed and begged, tears running down your warm cheeks.

“Shhh, it’s alright… Deep breaths, baby,” he coached you by inhaling and exhaling loudly so you would follow his lead. “Attagirl, keep going.”

When your breathing stabilised, Joel covered both of your nipples with his palms, fingers gently digging in your meat as his hands moved in circles, rubbing your painful buttons until they were warmed up and soft again. You sighed heavily, the pain slowly disappearing whilst his rough palms smothered your nipples.

Finally, you had no pain at all. Your womb felt tight warming his girthy cock, squeezing him sweetly, and your boobs, although still swollen, were like putty while Joel cradled them. With the pain gone, now there was room for something else — a warm pulsing in your core, commending you to look for the final release that would wipe out any background ache.

“You’re ready now, aren’tcha?” Joel gritted out, biting your shoulder as his cock pulsated between your vibrating walls. “My little bitch’s in heat. This is how you deal with it, kiddo. You just need my cock ruining your pussy and then you’ll feel better.”

You squirmed in agreement, moving your hips in circles on his lap. Suddenly your skin was extremely hot to the touch and your pussy was clamping down around his girth.

“Daddy, please,” you implored, your clit burning with desire now.

“I don’t appreciate how moody you’ve been today, so much fucking attitude. You gotta behave better than this,” he scolded you, gripping your breasts tighter. “I’m letting it go this one time, but next I won’t be as understanding. Got it?”

All the gentleness he had showered you with until now was gone, anger simmering under the surface of his skin. You could feel it irradiating from him.

You were so overwhelmed, so horny now, you couldn’t reply.

“Use your words, kiddo. I want to hear you apologise,” he snarled, one hand releasing your boob to travel down your chest until it reached your puffy pussy. Joel rubbed your clit and you screamed, seeing stars behind your eyes. “Speak.”

“Yes, daddy. I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry. I’ll behave better next time I’m in heat. Please forgive me,” you beseeched, feral with lust.

“Good girl,” his fingers left your clit and clutched your unattended breast again. “Now bounce on me. Make me come.”

You didn’t need any further instructions. With the push of your knees, you began bouncing on him while Joel cradled your breasts. Your drenched pussy was so wet with your arousal and your own blood, the squelching sounds lasciviously filled the room. You jumped on his shaft as fast as you could, his mushroom head kissing your cervix every single time, sending you over the edge to the point where your eyes were constantly rolled back and your agape mouth drooled.

The whole thing felt sinful, but so damn good. So good, a few minutes later you were both coming. Joel’s warm spent filled your pussy to the brim as he moaned behind you uncontrollably, your cunt clenching around his circumference to milk him completely dry. Your own climax hit you like a brick wall as you fell to the abyss of your pleasure, heaving like a maniac.

Joel’s rugged breathing told you you had met his expectations, his hands gently roaming your body again. When you came down from your high, you leaned forward to unplug your gushing opening, but Joel’s hands on your hips stopped you from doing so.

“No, kiddo. Stay where you are. You don’t want the pain to come back, do you?”

“But the blood…” you trailed off, looking down to where you were joint like mating dogs.

Dark blood pooled on his empty nuts, mixed with the slick of your shared arousal. A red trickle ran down his thighs, staining the bedsheets underneath. Now that the haze of pleasure had dissolved, it felt ungodly, dirty, shameful even.

“How many times do I need to say it? Don’t worry about the fucking blood,” he sneered, slightly exasperated with you. But you couldn’t help yourself.

Your bottom lip trembled with his reprimand, the hormones rushing through your system with free will.

Joel sighed, hugging you until your back was resting on his chest again, his cock still plugging your opening.

“Don’t cry. Sorry, kiddo,” Joel nuzzled your cheek before kissing it. “I know this is your first time with period sex, but it’s been good, hasn’t it?” You nodded shyly, looking at him askance. “If you ain’t hurting now and feel satisfied, don’t worry about anything else.”

His words calmed you again. Joel was right. It’d been good — more than good, if you were to be true to yourself. The pain you had been suffering for hours was now a ghost of the past all thanks to Joel.

“Thank you, daddy,” you hushed, tilting your head in an invitation.

Joel bowed down, his tongue meeting yours, wrestling until you were out of breath. When the kiss broke, you giggled.

“Don’t mention it, kiddo,” Joel replied, his hands finding your breasts again to massage them as you cockwarmed him.

[lazyjellyfish300]

𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒅𝒂𝒚 1~𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏

🥪 scarred!nanami kento x spouse!reader

🥪 synopsis: Kento reads Junie B. Jones with your little family at bedtime. 💕

🥪words: 1.4k

🥪cw: fluff, post shibuya scarred!kento, no mention of reader's gender but imagined w a wife in mind, you have kids together, excerpts used from the book Junie B. Jones: Boss of Lunch by Barbara Parks. All credit to that amazing woman for a book series I grew up loving. May she rest in peace. 💕

🥪 a/n: my day 1 entry for Nanami Week for the SFW prompt: Papamin. 💕 It's gonna get real kento krazy on my blog this week for my beloved's birthday. 💕💕 Stay tuned for more goodies. 💕 @/nanamiweek thank you so much for letting me participate. 🫶🏽💕 sparkle dividers by @/anitalenia. bread dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Thunder rattles the pewter clouds in a rumble of showers, pelting the ground with its evening lullaby. The cows, pig, and goats are tucked into golden pools of hay with gentle snores.

There's one window in the farmhouse that remains alight, soft giggles coming from the other side as your two oldest girls and your youngest little boy all squeeze in a heap of warmth on top of your husband, Kento, huddled around a book.

You can hear them upstairs with your third oldest baby girl attached at your hip as you make her a warm glass of water for the evening.

"You're gonna miss storytime, Noodle." You smile at her as she hides in your pajama pants, pawing at your sweater for uppies.

"Don't you wanna find out what Daddy's reading tonight?"

She hides her face in your neck and wraps her chubby arms halfway around your face.

"C'mon, we'll go up there together." You whisper as you turn out the light.

---

You gently knock at the half opened door to your oldest two daughters' room and creak it open. In the middle is Kento, his long legs practically hanging off the small bed with your oldest with her head on his stomach, your middle daughter in a cozy heap near his feet, and your baby boy tucked under his right arm.

"Don't mind us." You whisper as you sneak in, tiptoeing to the rocking chair on the other side of the room with your baby girl in your arms.

"Well hello." Kento smiles with his eyepatch retired for the evening in his grey t-shirt and fleece pajama pants, warmth in his expression as he catches sight of your daughter being bashful.

"We've got room for one more if you'd like, darling."

"What do you think, Noodle? Wanna go cuddle with Daddy? Oop, looks like Bubba wants to trade you places."

Your baby boy reaches out to you, begging for a spot in your lap and your little girl hesitates, but then eagerly gets down and allows Kento to scoop her up with his free arm so she's laying against his chest.

"Comfy?" Kento asks her and she responds by closing her eyes as she nuzzles closer against him.

"What's the story tonight, sweetheart?" You ask, shifting so your son doesn't crush your arm.

"Junie B. Jones: Boss of Lunch."

Noodle's face lights up with glee.

"See, honey? I knew you wouldn't want to miss it. You love Junie B."

Kento flips the page back. "We're going to start over so Noodle can catch up, is that alright with everyone?"

Your children nod in agreement and Kento clears his throat as he reads from the beginning.

It was adorable how expressive Kento could get, but only in moments like this when he was in the domestic shelter of little ones you created together, the inflections of his normally calm voice became more goofy, less serious, more warm than he usually was, if that was even possible.

He narrates Junie B. Jones' current adventure where the first grader was excited to open her brand new lunch box during class.

"And I reached way down. And I lifted up the lid of my brand-new, shiny—

“LUNCH BOX!” hollered out May. “JUNIE JONES JUST OPENED HER LUNCH BOX AGAIN, MR. SCARY! AND YOU TOLD HER NOT TO DO THAT ANYMORE! REMEMBER?”

May is the tattletale girl who sits next to me.

I do not actually care for her." credit: Barbara Parks

A faint smirk fights to spread on Kento's face as it appears the protagonist of the story also has a classmate she's rather not fond of.

You don't have to guess to know the white haired image that pops into your brain and you give Kento a look that says "Behave." And he continues with a hum.

"After that, I held my lunch box way high in the air so all of Room One could see it. “See all the birdlets, children? There are owlets and eaglets and ducklets and chicklets,” I explained.

I put my lunch box on my desk. And I took out the thermos.

“And see this thermos, people? This thermos has pictures of bird nests on it. Isn’t that cute?”

May made a face. “Ick,” she said. “Who wants to drink out of a stinky, pooey bird’s nest?”

I made a face at her. “ I do, that’s who, May!” I said. “I love drinking out of stinky, pooey birds’ nests.”

May reached into her desk and pulled out a lunch ticket. “Well, I buy my lunch, Junie Jones,” she said. “Bought lunches are much better than brought lunches. Bought lunches don’t sit around all morning and get soggy.” credit: Barbara Parks

Kento raises a brow. "I beg to differ. Perhaps May's mother doesn't toast the bread."

"Ken, honey, keep reading the story."

Kento continues.

"I crossed my arms at that girl. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard of, May,” I said right back. “ Brought lunches are way better than bought lunches. ’Cause brought lunches are made special by our very own mothers!”"

credit: Barbara Parks

"Good for her!" Your oldest chimes in from her spot on Kento's stomach.

"I agree, love."

Kento continues reading into the next chapter where Junie B's class goes to the cafeteria for lunchtime and all her friends decide to buy hoagies instead of bringing their lunches.

"I think even you would like this hoagie, Junie B.,” he said. “Look. It has ham and salami and cheese and lettuce and tomato.”"

credit: Barbara Parks

"Mmm!" Your kids react to the description, except for your middle daughter.

"Casse Croutes are better."

Kento ruffles her hair with pride. "You're very right about that, Bee."

Kento reaches the end of the chapter and puts a bookmark in and your kids groan in disappointment.

"We wanna find out what happens!" Your oldest pouts as Kento shuffles with all the others in his arms, allowing her to crawl under the covers as he tucks her in and you take care of the others.

"Tomorrow, Jellybean." Kento reassures her. "If we keep reading then we'll finish the book already."

"That's not fair! I saw Daddy reading past his bedtime last night." Your middle daughter tattles as you tuck her under the blankets.

"That so?" You shoot Kento a playful side eye.

Kento smirks, addressing your daughter. "And just what were you doing awake at such a late hour to know such things, Bee?"

Your daughter shrinks back under the covers with a giggle.

"Well, I'll just have to talk to him about that." You turn out the light to the bedroom. "Looks like Noodle and Bubba are already out."

You smile as Kento approaches with your other two sleeping babies. You take Noodle from him while he handles Bubba, and walk down the hall to the nursery, bundling them up in their respective cribs until the house dissolves into a peaceful snooze fest.

------

"I don't know if I like the lessons those books are teaching our children." Kento remarks as he slides into bed on his side.

"Sweetheart, be serious."

"I am, darling. This whole cafeteria bought hoagies versus homemade lunches thing."

"It's a story, Ken. I think it's good for them to read about spunky heroines like Junie B. Besides, Bee saw right through it."

Kento puts a thoughtful hand on your stomach, pulling you closer to him. "Hm. You're right about that."

"You worry too much, my love. But I agree about banning some of the princess stories. At least not the modified versions."

"Ah, the ones where there is consent and the prince doesn't know her when she's still a child while he's an adult?"

"Yep, those ones."

He smiles. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"I love you."

"I love you...."

More hangs on the tip of your tongue, and you and him both smile at each other knowing it never does any good for you to say it, lest you open another loving can of worms for your eternal banter of back and forth.

"Now, shall we resume our own story?" Kento smiles as he reaches across from you, keeping your face against his heartbeat as he opens a copy of The Princess Bride.

"Mhmm. I'm listening." You murmur, but he doesn't make it through three pages before you're lost to sleep against his chest.

He just smiles and kisses your cheek, stowing the bookmark back where it was as he shuts off the light, until the drumming of raindrops encourages him to tranquil dreaming at your side.

[luvelola]

night time routine on the farm

masterlist !

as the sun lowers behind the hills, drenching the fields in golden light, the farm starts to quiet down. the animals settle. the wind softens. and inside the home — tucked behind acres of trees and fencing — a gentle rhythm begins.

🐐 outside: evening chores (6:30–7:15pm)

rafe is outside in sweats and boots, shirt half-tucked from dinner, with biscuit at his side. zara’s in her hoodie with rainboots on the wrong feet, skipping beside him. she helps scoop feed for the goats while rafe checks fencing and tops off water buckets.

miles handles the chickens — grumbling a little but serious about his job.

collects eggs into a worn basket, gently shoos princess peep (the mean hen) away from the nesting box, and checks that rufus, the red-feathered rooster, is in the coop.

meanwhile, shadow is on perimeter patrol, ears twitching at every sound, while biscuit watches the kids like a sleepy bodyguard.

by 7:15, the sun is kissing the hills. the animals are fed. coops locked. little boots are muddy. biscuit is muddy. rafe’s hands are muddy — and yn, watching from the porch with a dishtowel over her shoulder, is already shaking her head lovingly.

🛁 bath time & wind down (7:30–8:00pm)

inside, yn runs a warm lavender bath for zara, who always insists on bringing in a rubber duck and a glow stick like it’s a rave. she sits beside the tub, gently combing through her curls with conditioner and detangler while zara babbles about her “heart puff” and how she’s gonna grow wings one day.

in the other room, rafe helps miles rinse off after his “big boy shower” — miles hates washing his face but rafe makes it a game. tonight, he pretends the soap is “face armor for a goat knight” and miles shrieks laughing.

shadow curls up in the hallway while biscuit sprawls in front of the tub. peaceful guard duty.

📚 bedtime stories & lights out (8:00–8:30pm)

rafe reads to miles in bed — the same book. miles always makes rafe do the dragon voice. halfway through, he’s out, thumb in his mouth, one arm wrapped around butterscotch’s plush lookalike.

in zara’s room, yn reads a different book depending on the night. zara snuggles in with her unicorn nightlight on and whispers, “daddy did okay on my hair,” before drifting off.

🕯️ farmhouse quiet (9:00pm)

downstairs, it’s candlelight and soft music. rafe and yn share tea or wine at the kitchen table. shadow and biscuit are sprawled on the rug. the windows are open just enough to let in the crickets and the hush of wind through the trees.

rafe leans his head against yn’s shoulder and murmurs something low. sometimes flirty. sometimes tired. always tender. they talk about nothing and everything. he pulls her into his lap before they head upstairs.

🌌 last check (before bed)

rafe makes one final walk outside before locking the doors. flashlight in hand, he circles the coop, glances at the barn, pats biscuit who follows lazily. the goats are already curled up in hay. the chickens are roosting. the night is still.

inside, yn brushes her curls out, wraps them in a scarf, and waits for her husband to crawl into bed behind her.

miles sighs in his sleep. zara flips onto her side. the dogs snore.

and the farm goes quiet in the night.

[evie-sturns]

ʙᴇᴅᴛɪᴍᴇ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: chris and you have twins together, lola and maggie, bedtime is always a struggle with them.

contains: fluff, kissing, swearing.

------------------------..••°°°°••..--------------------—-

11:37pm

chris and i have been dating since highschool, 4 years ago i gave birth to twins

"girls! bedtime please, i didn't realise the time." i call out, opening the door to their shared bedroom.

maggie and lola are bouncing on their double bed while squealing, i walk over to them, my hands resting on my waist. "are you meant to be doing this?"

they both pause to look over at me, innocence spread across their face.

"no.." maggie says quietly, i nod with a small smile

"are you ready for bed?" i ask as the girls flop down on the bed, "yes!" lola says throwing her arms up with a cute grin.

i pull up the covers over them, "stay in bed for the whole night okay? daddy will be in the kitchen until late, so bother him alright?" i say, pressing kisses to their foreheads.

walking out of their room, i flick off the lights behind me. i close their door softly and go out into the kitchen.

chris is sitting on a dining table chair, his phone in one hand and a pepsi can in the other.

"they asleep?" chris asks, putting his phone down "thankfully." i reply with a sigh, sitting down on chris's lap with a heavy sigh.

he plants a long kiss into my hair "i love you so much."

i flip myself around to straddle chris, moving my hair to one side i collide our lips together desperatly. "fuck.." chris breathes into the kiss.

bang.

a loud bang comes from the kids room, i instantly pull away from the kiss, my eyebrows scrunching i throw myself off of chris's lap.

i hear excitable laughing coming from outside their door. i swing open their door, the bedside table is tipped over, maggie and lola are giggling while throwing stuffed animals at each other.

"lola and maggie." i yell sternly, their heads instantly snap round to look at me, their face dropping.

"do you know what time is it? almost midnight." i glare at them

"i am going to put you to bed and if i hear another noise come from this room, dad is going to come in here and be very angry." im cut off by lola

"mommy but- but maggie keeps taking the blanket and my stuffie." she whines.

i shake my head and shut the door for the second time tonight.

"chris-" i say walking into the kitchen "shh i know." he says, grabbing my waist and picking me up. i groan into his shoulder as he walks us into the living room.

"lets watch a movie okay?" chris says calmly, the warm sleves of his crewnecks wrapped around me.

he plonks us down on the couch, i lay on his body comfortably.

-

1:34am

"this is the best part shush!!" i giggle.

"mooom!" i hear lola laugh as she runs into the room, clutching the ear of her bunny toy in one hand.

i look over at chris, whose rubbing his eyes with his ringed hands.

"maggie wet the bed." she points to her bedroom with a snort, covering her smile with her stuffed animal.

chris sits up, moving me off him and walking over to lola. he scoops her up with one arm, looking into her eyes he starts "did you hear what mom said?" he asks, maintaining eye contact with lola.

"well mommy's stupid!" lola says sassily, my jaw goes slack.

"lola no." chris says, more stern than ive ever heard him. he carries lola out of the room.

i lay back on the couch, closing my eyes and instantly drifting to sleep.

9:39am (the next day)

the harsh sunlight hits my body from the window to my left. i sit up, dazed and somehow in pyjamas, even though i fell asleep in jeans and a tanktop.

"what the fuck.." i groan, my eyes adjusting to the blinding light.

chris walkss into the living room "hey!! you're awake." he says happily.

"oh yeah hope you dont mind, i changed you last night after i changed the girls sheets, you were knoocked outt though." he says with a laugh.

"oh shit wait-" he says, doing a full 180° out of the living room.

he comes back in about a minute, hes holding lola and maggie, one in each hand. theyve both got small cards in their hands and a guilty expression on their face.

"chris what is this?" i ask, standing up off the couch.

"mommy i'm very sorry for being awake late last night." lola says, chris sets her down on two feet and she trots up to me, handing me the card.

the cards are in chris's hand writing, but has a drawing made by lola on the front.

"she told me what to write." chris clarifies setting down maggie aswell.

maggie runs up to me, "and im sorry for wetting the bed but dad says it wasn't my fault and you were just tired and grumpy and it was okay -.."

shes cut off by chris's hand over her mouth "shh shush".

"christopher!" i laugh, slapping his arm with a scoff.

—-----------------------..••°°°°••..-------------------—-

got a good feeling bout this one team!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[luveline]

Hi lovely!!

Could I request a KBD fic centred around Beth and her being a little different? 🩷 I can’t remember but I think you’ve said before that you’ve written her autistic coded so I was wondering if you could do a fic that touches on that please! Being a girl who was also different and ‘weird’ and struggled to make friends it wasn’t just hard for me but my parents too so I feel like the dynamic between the reader and Steve has been portrayed so well and the way you write Beth is so so good

No worries if not! But if you get around to this then thank you in advance 🩷🩷

thank you for requesting ♥︎ —you and steve struggle to help beth, but you lean on him and he leans on you and beth eats her dinner in the end. mom!reader, 4.5k

You weren’t the most normal kid. Beth has some of your strange behaviours, but she has a whole new gallery of her own, too, and it’s just… You had Avery, and you had Beth, and you didn’t assume that Beth was somehow abnormal because she was different to her sister —who would that be fair too? But then you have Dove, and you realise that the things that Beth can’t handle are things that most kids can. It’s not so cut and clean as to suggest that kids can even be normal, they all have their quirks, but Beth needs far, far more support for things that should… well, they should be easy. Or that’s what everyone says. 

“Come on, my sweet girl,” you murmur, in that same place as last night and the night before, Beth in your lap, wriggling unhappily every time the spoon so much as leaves her plate, “just a couple more bites.” 

“I don’t want it,” Beth says quietly. She’s already crying, her cheeks wet and hot to the touch, t-shirt rumpled by a squeezing hand. 

“Baby, you eat this every night,” you say. 

You aren’t necessarily an expert, but you’re good at getting Beth to eat, even on her worst days. But for the last week she’s been declining, taking smaller mouthfuls, or trying to skip meals altogether. “I’m too tired,” she says, sniffling as you scoop a little mound of cheesy broccoli onto her favourite spoon. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Beth, honey, what am I supposed to do?” you ask. Steve clears his throat, and you wince. “Sorry, baby. I’m sorry. But you didn’t eat your breakfast, or your lunch. It’s really important that you feed your body, isn’t it? What if you get sick?” 

Steve’s hovering nearby, his arms crossed against his chest. You try to give Beth as much privacy as possible when you do this, because you know she’s ashamed of herself when Avery asks her why she can’t eat her dinner, ’cos it’s so yum, Bethie, daddy makes it the best, but you know Steve can’t leave. 

“I’ll eat breakfast tomorrow,” Beth says, a fat tear rolling down her cheek.

Fuck, it’s such a big tear that you push her dinner plate away and let your sleeve fall over your thumb, wiping it as gently as you’re able to. “Shh,” you say quietly, rubbing at her little cheeks until they’re dry. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Did mom make you cry so much?” 

“I don’t want to eat it,” she sniffles. 

“Aw, baby, it’s okay. I won’t make you eat the broccoli and cheese.” 

Steve pulls the chair next to yours out slowly. He sits quietly. His hand is careful when he puts it on Beth’s small arm. “Hey, Bethie.” 

“Hi.” 

He smiles, but he's already super sorry. “You know what I’m gonna ask you, but you can say no, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

She sounds even sadder than he does. 

“Will you drink one of the milkshakes?” he asks, wiping at a new tear before it can reach her chin.  

Beth automatically hides against you. You tut under your breath, pity and love for her like a hand squeezing your heart as you wrap her into a proper hug. “It’s okay if you can’t, baby,” you say, though it isn’t, not really. You just can’t see her like this much longer. She’s boiling away in your lap, so overwhelmed that you’re lucky she hasn’t started scratching her neck —Steve hates it so much it brought tears to his eyes the last time she did it. 

“It’s alright, honey. Should we leave the kitchen?” You hold her face. “How about we go to mommy’s room? Would that make you feel better?” 

She sobs out a yes. 

“She’s not gonna be able to go to school tomorrow,” Steve murmurs as you gather her up. 

“I know,” you murmur back, pressing Beth’s shaking body to you. She’s getting tall like Avery, skinnier than you’d pictured, but she’s still super soft, plush cheeked, a weight in your arms as you push in your chair with your knee. “I’ll stay home too. I’ll…” 

“Call the doctor?” Steve mouths. 

“Yeah. Maybe.” You sigh, pressing your nose into Beth’s forehead tiredly. “Let’s go to bed, sweet girl.” 

“Thank you,” she says. 

“C’mon, Beth, it’s alright,” you say, half a lie. “Don’t worry about it. You tried your best tonight, didn’t you? You ate so much of your dinner even though you didn’t want to, ‘cos you’re my good girl.” 

Beth clings to your neck all the way to your bed. She refuses to be detached from you, even when Steve offers her a cuddle to give you a breather. It’s been hours of this, of her upset, and of you failing to convince her. She falls asleep between sobs, sniffling and shaky in your arms, and you don’t realise you’re crying until Steve’s wiping your cheeks with the same care he’d wiped at Beth’s. “It’s fine,” he murmurs.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” he says again. “She’s fine.” 

He climbs up onto a knee to kiss your forehead. 

—

The doctor doesn’t actually want to deal with it. “She won’t eat?” he asks you over the phone. 

“Nope.” 

“Nothing at all?” 

“Uh, she’ll eat fruit slices if we beg her too.” Your voice is scratchy with the admission. “A little of dinner, but only what she likes.” 

“So she can eat?” 

“It’s not–” You clear your throat. Steve rests an encouraging hand on your arm. “Not really that simple. She can eat, like, she can chew and swallow, but I can’t get her to finish anything. She just cries.” 

“Does she have a fever?” 

“No, she’s not sick. She gets like this sometimes, but I’ve always… we’ve always been able to wait it out.” 

“Right… is she lethargic at all?” 

“A little? She’s not eating enough.” 

“But she can get up? She can walk around?” 

“Yeah.” 

The doctor or assistant sighs long, slow, and it drives you up a wall. “Is she a picky eater?” 

“Extremely.” 

“The best thing to do is to tell her she eats what’s on her plate or she doesn’t get dinner.”

For a second, you’re so shocked at his answer that you can’t summon your own. 

“She’ll get hungry enough eventually,” he continues.

“I’m not going to let her starve.” Steve stiffens next to you. 

“It sounds like she is already. Kids do this, they test the boundaries because they’ve only now realised they have them. I guarantee you she’ll be eating normally by the end of the week, so long as you don’t bend to her every whim.” 

“That’s– that is not really helpful.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Beth won’t eat. We make her her favourites every night and she won’t eat it. Why would she eat something she doesn’t like later on? She doesn’t care that she’s hungry, she can’t eat.” 

“Let me talk to him,” Steve says.

“I got it.” 

“Let me talk to him,” he says again, taking the phone from your hand. 

Steve doesn’t shout like you’re expecting, but it’s a good thing, really. “Sir, hi, it’s Bethie’s dad… Yeah, it doesn't matter what she’s offered, or how little she’s eating, she won’t eat more than a handful at a time, and not for hours.” He rests his other hand on your shoulder. “No, no, it’s– I’m not asking you to admit her, we don’t want her back on the kids ward again this year– We want an answer. No. No, because this isn’t normal.” 

Steve’s brow screws up. 

“What’s he saying?” you whisper.

He holds up a finger

“No. No, she’s never…” He stares at your cheek. “We’ve never looked at that. No. And that doesn’t really answer us for what we should do today. She won’t eat today. She’s gonna collapse and then…” 

He rolls his eyes and offers you the phone. “Hopeless.” 

The doctor sighs across the line as you press the phone back against your ear. “Normal kids don’t need to be coddled into eating dinner, is all I’m saying.” 

“And it’s not helping.” 

“Clearly, Mrs. Harrington, you don’t really want my help. I’ve given you the solutions.” 

“We want her to see a doctor.” 

“Take her by Eskenazi general.”

You slam the phone down on the receiver. “Fucking asshole,” you scathe under your breath. 

“What did he say?” 

“He said to do what he said or to take her to Eskenazi. What did he say to you?” 

“He said she…” 

You duck your head. “Steve?” 

“He said she could be disabled, like– like she’s ‘touched’, he said, and a bunch of other jargon. But what the fuck ever, right? Dude’s an asshole.” 

“What kind of disabled?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t know the word. He said we can get her tested.” 

You shake your head vehemently. You’ve seen how people treat one another when they’re different; you have no inclination to expose Beth to the world's judgment. “She doesn’t need to get tested, she’s just Beth. And– and if they won’t help me look after her then I’ll do it myself.” 

“…Maybe it could help.” 

“With what, Steve? So we have a word for her? She’s my Beth.” 

“Maybe knowing she’s different might help her to understand. Maybe it’ll… I don’t know.” He scratches at his scalp. “I don’t know.” 

You get where he’s coming from, because you’ve known Bethie was different for a while now, for years. You just can’t see how this will help her through dinner tonight. She’s gonna starve herself if you aren’t careful.

“I’m gonna go out and get more stuff,” you say, closing a hand around his fingers to hold. 

“Like what?” 

“She has these phases, right? So– so maybe she hates broccoli and cheese now, but she hated it before when– when she liked those little quesadillas you make. So I’m gonna go and get some tortillas and cheese and stuff and you’re gonna make that for lunch.” 

Steve holds your eyes. His are brown, and gentle, and pinched at you hopefully. “Yeah, okay. What else can we do?” 

Beth did not want to eat or even smell a quesadilla the last time Steve made them, but you’re running out of choices. 

“I don’t know.” 

He holds your eyes, unspeaking. 

“She’s different,” you concede quietly, “I just never wanted her to know that.” 

“I think she knows, baby.” 

You think about letting yourself burst into tears. Steve would let you. He’d hold you and kiss you and tell you that it’s okay —everything will be okay, you know that already. But if you break down Steve will make sure it’s hammered home. He’ll stop all the worry and heartache for a bit, just like he always does. 

“I’ll go now, while she’s still asleep.” 

Steve gives you a sad smile, as though he knows what you almost did. “Sure, honey. Take my car, okay?”

—

You bring back cheese and candies and enough chocolate to have each of your girls kissing up all night to a house that’s only just begun to stir despite the hour. Nearly noon, Beth lays wrinkled with her head in Avery’s lap. Avery plays with her hair, their own bubble of love you’re not privy too whispered into Beth’s small ear, while Dove plays with Beth’s socks. Even Wren seems to have come to understand that Beth isn’t feeling like herself, your littlest baby standing unsurely at the base of the couch, holding on to the edge for dear life as she babbles hellos. 

Steve sits on the playmat, ready to catch Wren when she stumbles back. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.”

“Busy?” 

“Weirdly busy for a Thursday morning.” You smile at your girls gently. “Hey, sweethearts. Good morning, did everyone sleep okay?” 

“Mom, come hug,” Dove says immediately, her voice still scratched by sleep. 

“I gotta put this away!” you coo. “But you can help lighten the bag a bit.” 

You give Dove a white chocolate bunny. Avery gets a milky truffle the size of her palm. Wren gets a chocolate yoghurt, and Beth gets a pack of kisses. “No pressure, Bethie.” You give Avery the kisses, rather than make Beth hold them, vindicated when the quick flash of dread on her face is replaced with relief. “You can throw them all away if you want to, but I didn’t want to leave you out.” 

“Thanks, mom,” she says. 

“Yeah, of course. I don’t even want the thank you, Beth, I just like seeing you smiling.” 

“I got the day off school too,” Avery says. “To look after Beth.” 

“How do you feel, Beth? Well looked after?” 

Beth manages a real smile. “Yes.” 

You put the groceries away and appear with one of Beth’s old favourites: raspberry yoghurt drinks. You don’t offer her one, only sit on the floor by Steve with one in your hand. You give it a shake and peel off the foil. Steve glances at you from the corner of his eye. 

“What you got?” 

“Raspberry.” 

“Yum. Sharing?” 

You take a sip and pass it to your husband. He drinks a little. “Wait, they’re nicer than I remember.” 

“You think?” 

Wren slams onto her butt, but luckily her diaper saves her bones and she giggles as Steve goes, “Oopsy daisy, what a clutz you are.” 

She leans back and stares at Steve with wide, baby-pretty eyes. ”Wen?” she asks. 

“Wren wants some?” 

Wren babbles. “Yeah!” she says eventually. 

Steve helps her into his lap, four babies later and still the most gentle guy in the world. “Ready?” he asks, pressing the lip of the yogurt to her mouth. “Here you go, Wren. That’s it, honey, good job. How is that, is that yummy?” 

“Can I have some?” Dove asks. 

“I’ll get you your own one,” you say, scrabbling up. “Don’t want all Wren’s spit.” 

Dove drinks hers in a long pull. Avery nibbles her milky truffle. Beth, surrounded by food, looks a bit sickly, and she’s quiet for the next hour. You take them all upstairs for baths they should’ve had last night and outfit them in blue loungewear to match one another. Beth doesn’t look any better for it. She’s sweaty as you sit her back on the couch, but she manages to smile when you tickle the arch of her foot between socks. 

With Avery playing on her tummy in the toy corner (or, the toy half), and Dove following Steve around in the kitchen, you stick Wren next to you on the couch and try to relax. Beth will eat if she needs to. And if she doesn’t, you’ll take her to the ER and sob yourself sick when they tube her. 

“Oh, Beth,” you murmur. 

“Oh, mom,” she says. 

You side-eye her. She’d said it with a smile, and she’s still smiling as she lays her face against your shoulder. 

“What’s funny?” 

“You sounded funny.” 

You let Wren crawl on your knees. She curls up with her face to your stomach, gurgling until you pet her back. “You sound funnier.” 

“Are you angry at me?” 

You frown at her. “No, never.” 

“Even though I wasted dinner again?” 

“You didn’t waste dinner yesterday, you just didn’t like it. Not your fault.” You follow the slope of her nose with your eyes. “Do you understand what that means, that it isn’t your fault? Me and daddy know you can’t help it. So it’s okay. And everybody stops liking stuff sometimes. I used to like apple juice, but when I was pregnant with you I had a glass of it that made me feel so sick that I haven’t had it since. Sometimes, we just change our minds.” 

“But I thought I liked it,” she confesses. 

“That’s okay. Daddy thinks he likes lettuce, but he has to pull it out of every sandwich.” 

Beth giggles, rubbing her face in your arm. “That’s funny.” 

Your face never looked so lovely as it does on Beth. Even though her eyes are swollen from all her crying the day before and her lips are crusty with toothpaste, she’s sweet. You scratch the toothpaste away carefully and wrap her up for a one armed hug, Wren underneath it, Beth’s arms snaking around her to return your cuddle. 

“I know it’s not easy, Beth. I don’t expect you to feel good right now. But if you want to talk to mommy and tell me what you’re thinking about, I can listen. Even if the feeling feels silly.” 

“I don’t want to…” She fades off. 

“Don’t want to eat dinner?” you guess. 

She doesn’t answer. 

“Beth, you don’t have to eat dinner if you can’t. The important thing is that you eat something. For now, it can be anything. If there’s one single thing you think you can eat, then I can get it for you, and I won’t… Beth, I just want you to know that it doesn’t matter what you need me or daddy or even Avery or anyone to do so you can eat something. I’ll drive you to New York if you think you want a slice of pizza.” 

“Why to New York?” she asks, her nose wrinkling. 

“That’s where they make it the best.” 

“I… don’t want you to be sad with me,” she whispers. 

“I don’t mind. You don’t make me sad, you know. I just want you to eat.” 

“Even if…” She looks down at your tummy, where Wren wriggles and snuffs. 

“Anything.” 

“Can I have honey ham?” 

You feel your eyebrows rise of their own accord. “Honey ham? Like daddy makes at Christmas?” 

She nibbles her lip. “Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” You take a deep breath, pressing your nose into her hair. “It doesn’t have to be for Christmas. I like daddy’s honey ham. Thing is, he’ll have to go to the store and get the ham and the honey so it might take a while. Is that okay?” 

“Can I have bread too?” 

“With butter?” you ask, too casual. Luckily she doesn’t notice. 

“Yeah.” 

“Like, a ham sandwich?” 

“I don’t want the ham in the bread.” 

“Okay,” you say, failing to hide your relief. It comes out in a sigh. “Honey ham and bread and butter. How about we pretend it’s Christmas and daddy can make the whole feast?” 

“Like, the potato’s and the sweet mash?” she asks. 

“Sure, if you want that. Even if you don’t want to eat any of it, it won’t go to waste. I love dad’s Christmas cooking.” 

She lifts her head to stare at you. “Really?” she asks again. 

“Beth, I just want you to eat, bubby,” —you sound as tired as you feel— “I don’t mind what you’re craving. I know it’s hard to eat food you don’t want to eat. It’s hard for you, you’re just a kid. You don’t get to choose. But I promise I’ll try my best when you’re feeling like this, okay? So– so no more crying at dinner,” you say, though you’re really pleading with her in a way, “‘cos I can’t stand seeing my lovely girl crying.” 

She shrugs off your loving but changes her mind at the last second, curling under your arm. 

“Can the ham be cold?” she asks quietly. 

“Yes. That’s no problem.” 

“Okay.” 

“Beth?” 

Beth tips her head upwards. 

“I know you’re different,” you say, holding her gaze, those baby wide eyes, “and you know you’re different, too. But it doesn’t matter to me or your dad, okay? I won’t get angry with you for the things that you can’t change. And… maybe, if you feel different in a way that confuses you or…” I don’t know, you think, grasping for the right words. “If it sounds like a good idea, maybe we can go talk to somebody. A doctor.” 

Her lips part. “Like Dr. Scandi?” she asks under her breath. 

Dr. Scandi is the paediatrician that treated her when she had her horrible flu, who she liked, because he was very tall and very quiet. “I don’t know. I just want you to know that you’re not alone. That I’ll try to fix things if they need fixing.” 

Beth is perhaps a little too young to understand what you’re trying to say, but, like she has ever since she was a baby, she softens at your tone. “I like talking to you,” she whispers. 

“I like talking to you.” 

Beth nods. You offer her a kiss. 

—

Steve makes his summer Christmas banquet and Beth, beautiful girl, eats three slices of bread with salted butter, and she eats every bit of honeyed ham that touches her plate. She even has a raspberry yoghurt after. 

Her empty stomach pangs at the sudden influx. Steve gathers her up and gives her one of his trademark post-dinner tummy rubs, her back to his front, the two of them in the bean bag. He rubs her stomach until she burbs, and laughs, and goes sleepy as a fieldmouse in a flower. 

Dove falls asleep before eight. Wren goes down at nine. And Avery, after a couple of minutes sitting with her legs swinging off of your thigh, asks to be put to bed as the sun’s going down behind the house. You turn off all the lights, lock the doors, and follow her to a still upstairs, Steve behind you with dozing Beth in his arms. 

“You okay, big girl?” you ask, pulling the sheets over Avery’s legs as she settles down. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she says. 

“Thank you, baby. I was just stressed out about Beth, that’s it. I’m happy long as you’re all happy.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “Are you happy?” 

“I had a good day,” she says decidedly. 

You cuddle her, her shoulders shifting under your hands. She’s gonna get big soon. She’s almost at that age where they shoot straight up into teenagedom the second you look away, so you refuse to look away. “I’m glad you did, Ave. Thanks for looking after Beth today. You did a great job.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Want me to put a movie in?”

She beams. You shove FernGully in and sit with her for a little while things are quiet, smiling indulgently against her forehead as her eyelids start to flutter. 

“Love you,” you whisper.

“Love you, mommy,” she whispers back, her ‘you’ nearly lost, a stutter of a sound as she falls asleep against your side. 

You wait five minutes before easing out from beneath her. Her hair brushes her pillow, nose sinking into her buttery pillow case, breath rustling out of her as you pull the sheets over her shoulders and crouch by her bedside. You smile at her. Give her cheek a quick stroke.

“You alright?” Steve asks. 

His uttering is so soft you don’t startle, though you hadn’t known he was waiting in the doorway. Your answer is a hum as you stand, and his is a hand on your arm as he pulls Avery’s door closed and leads you to bed. 

With Wren moved to the nursery with Dove, you and Steve find yourself alone for the first time since the early morning. Things are quiet while you undress, though he does his usual routine and helps you with the tie on your pajama bottoms before going back to his own clothes. You pull the end of his shirt from his pants and slide a hand underneath it, feeling at the small of his back for stretch marks. Your finger bumps along them and up, until you're massaging at the space between his shoulders and he’s laughing under his breath. “Stop, stop.” 

“You okay?” you ask. 

He relaxes under your ministrations. “I’m fine. You know, I heard you talking to Beth, earlier. Not all of it, but most of it. When you told her she’s not alone, that stuff, I don’t know. I was so proud of you, even though you didn’t need that from me.” He turns his face to see you over his shoulder. You rub at a notch with your thumb. “I mean, you got her to eat. You always do.” 

“She would’ve had to eventually. You’re the one that made dinner.” 

“I don’t think she could’ve told us what she wanted if you didn’t give her all that patience.” 

You don’t ignore him, but you have nothing to say. You could tell him you love him, but he knows. Could say thank you, but you’re not confident you won’t cry, and you don’t want the headache. So you draw a pattern over his back with your fingernails, resting your mouth on his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. 

“I love you, too.” 

“I get if you’re, like, tired, and this is too much for now, but… this has been a lot. I just want you to know that you’re there for them and I’m here for you, remember?” 

“I know.” 

You don’t wanna talk, but you know. 

Steve forces your hand down as he turns to you, rings of  purple under his eyes doing little to hide how handsome he is when he smiles at you like you’re hanging the moon up right in front of him. He’s all gentled almond eyes and his deeply kissable nose. You let yourself trace the wrinkles in the corners of his mouth. Smiling, you press a kiss to one of them. 

“I’m proud of you, too.” 

He kicks your shin. “Get to bed.” 

“I’m busy.” 

He kicks you again and pushes you into bed. 

“I’m sorry about all of this. I know it isn’t my fault, but I,” —Steve kisses your nose— “hate seeing you like that. Like this. Want you to smile.” 

“I’ll feel better tomorrow.” 

He climbs on top of you, putting his chin on top of your head and his leg hooked on top of your hips, pulling at your back until you curl into him nicely; he’ll have to move the sheets before he sleeps, just it’s comfy puzzled in like this. 

“We gotta find out what’s really happening with her,” he says. 

That’s more tentative. He’s hugging you to distract you, and it’s doing the job. You don’t feel as scared as you did this morning when he suggested the same thing. “I know. What was that word he said, the doctor?” 

“Autist.” 

You’ve read about it before. “I heard it was just a boy thing,” you mumble. 

Steve lets his hand slip beneath your ribs. “Maybe there’s a girl version…”

You lift your head away to see him better. “You know, no matter how different she is, we’re all gonna be fine.” 

“I know that, I told you that.” 

“Just wanted to make sure.” 

He noses along your jaw. “Guess what.” 

“What?” 

“We didn’t brush our teeth.” 

You let out a string of long-suffering sighs, agonised. Steve laughs and presses a kiss to your open mouth, promising you taste as good as you look, though he won’t claim the same in the morning.