#stop early discharge

[amypihcs]

AAAnd I ended up writing something for this and for the first day of cozytober.

You’re back home

As much as it could be seen as a dismissal, as a lack of appreciation for one’s services, Sherlock Holmes couldn’t but be happy about his husband’s discharge.

He had known of it for at least one day more than his dearest had, working in the intelligence offered striking possibilities when one was showing up to the office and not only working from home, but he had only left London on his own leave when Watson’s letter had arrived.

And there he was, in Sussex, enjoying the sweet October sunshine in the year of our Lord nineteen-seventeen from atop the railing he and Watson had built more than 10 years prior, waiting for his Captain.

Dr Watson wasn’t surprised to not find Holmes waiting for him at the station with their car, it was their agreement. No station Welcomes and Goodbyes as having to stifle their feelings in those moments would have certainly made them more painful. He breathed in deeply the fresh country air and set off for his walk toward their bee-house, as Holmes called it.

Nothing could be better than half an hour of evening walk toward home, or rather, nothing but seeing one’s husband jump down from a railing and grin from ear to ear as one walks into one’s own garden.

Neither of them properly ran toward the other, they weren’t as young as that any more as much as Holmes’ athletics still belied his true age. Holmes waited for him and Watson dove into his arms, breathing in deeply, relaxing after months of tension as he felt his husband’s strong, thin arms around his shoulders and his solid, sinewy body in his arms.

“I missed you.” He sighed, breathing in his scent, tobacco, lemons, aftershave.

Holmes broke the hug with a smile. “I missed you too.” He answered, then he kissed him, his hands buried in his hair, moaning as he felt his Watson’s arms tighten once more on his back as he answered the kiss with just as much vigour.

“I’m back home.” Gasped Watson when they separated out of need for air.

“You are, my dearest. – Holmes’ breath was just as laboured as he replied, ruffling his husband’s hair with his fingers. – Short hair doesn’t suit you my love.”

“It will grow again, I also liked it better before this war. Is that my vest?” Chuckled the doctor, well used to his husband’s sometimes strange demonstrations of affection.

Holmes laughed as he played with his Watson's uniform’s belt and buttons. “How did you deduce?”

It was a game, of course, their game. “It’s too large on you, my darling, and a bit too short. Also, you have no clothes of this colour. – The doctor stroked one of his Holmes’ sharp cheekbones. – You needn’t look so worried, Holmes. What do you deduce of me?”

Holmes smiled once more, and in that golden light he looked just like the young chemist he was when they had met. “You lost almost a stone, but you will be better in some weeks. You need to sleep properly as you are quite tired. Those dark circles under your eyes speak of anxiety, my John, and of pain. I could say your leg more than your shoulder, if I didn’t know that you’ve been hurt two weeks ago…” Holmes let his voice fade softly as he moved his hand to his husband’s side.

“It’s but a graze, my dear. Some shrapnel during a rescue mission, I barely noticed it until I had finished with the poor chap’s surgery. It’s but a scratch, I stitched it close myself.”

“I should like to check for it myself, my dear. As much as I know that your stitches are the best, you must have hidden it from your subordinates for quite a long time to end up stitching it on your own.” He stated

“Those boys were shaking already, I couldn’t let them know that I was hurt. – Watson kissed his husband again and then placed a warning finger on his lips. – I will let you fuss, my dear fellow, but only after some good tea and in preparation for a proper bath.” He smiled.

Mr Holmes grinned at the proposition and lead his husband inside, draping himself on his shoulders as soon as they reached the kitchen. “We are home now, John.”

“Yes. Yes, we are, my dearest Sherlock.” Answered the doctor.

dr watson in his 60s, tanned by the sussex sun, returns to his old service on the outbreak of WW1

this outfit is not historically accurate at all, but i really wanted to draw how i imagined watson in the gorgeous WW1 era h/w fic The Presbury Letters

+ bonus homecoming to angry bee husband

[topbestsexologistindelhi]

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[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Honeytrap/Maid Café

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

You are sent undercover to a Maid Café on ovulation night, to Honeytrap a curse-user for capture and trial. Kento is pissed off, and he won't be letting anyone get away with this lightly.

💛💜Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💛💜Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💛💜Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💛💜 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💛 💜 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, jealous Kento, exhibitionism, use of toys

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Ships in the night.

Five days...a week...a week and a half. Kento couldn't take it anymore. The universe was conspiring against him. Against you. Work had meant you had barely shared a room together, let alone a bed. Kento hissed as he threw a file onto Yaga's desk, his neck prickling with rage...his balls heavy and untouched.

Another two months of negative tests had passed. He was still yet to see you, swollen and round with his seed. He was still yet to justifiably refuse for you to be sent on dangerous missions. His heart broke for every dribble of cum he saw trickle out of your pussy after he was finished with you.

Kento had taken to plugging you with his cock until he was ready to fuck you full of his seed again. Forcing your arse up on pillows, his cock still cushioned within you, Kento would overstimulate you with your vibrator. With you pinned and whimpering beneath him, his cock throbbing to life again inside those plush clenching walls, there was nowhere your shaking orgasms could suck his cum other than up.

Kento was obsessed. He could feel this desire to breed you becoming pathological. He read dirty doujinshi, full of x-ray panels of cocks spurting cum straight into empty wombs, soon swollen and bursting with load after load. He fisted himself with urgent strokes while reading these, your panties wrapped around his hand, moaning into your pillow with your smell, each time stopping just before he came...just in case you were to arrive home early. Which, you never did.

He cursed at the unreliability of ovulation tests, and grabbed your freshly discarded panties out of the laundry basket instead, fingering your discharge between forefinger and thumb, assessing for that egg-white stretch. You woke up more than once to a thermometer being snuck into your mouth, Kento logging your signs onto a spreadsheet, waiting for that golden ovulation algorithm to ping.

In a mad moment, he even considered buying a long syringe, so he could jack off, fill it, and then fill you with his cum while you slept, exhausted from your long days. Kento laughed at himself, horrified by such a truly insane, unthinkable notion...although...

Kento shut himself into his office, barely suppressing a groan at the thought of squirting his warm cum straight through your cervix. Kento crouched down on his haunches, cock beginning to ache and fatten, and raking his fingers through his neatly parted hair.

With a groan and a prayer, Kento pulled out his phone and messaged you. At first he was thrilled, his heart leaping with love when you text him back immediately...before the slow descent into madness began again.

Your knees. Your panties around them. Your fingers, dabbing clear, stretchy discharge between them.

Kento's cock had never stiffened so quickly in his entire life. He stood, silent. He left you on read. He couldn't possibly put thoughts as debauched as his into words, he thought, stalking through the corridors and paths of Jujutsu High until he reached his car.

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Kento arrived home with a spring in his step, listening to old, saved voicemails and voice notes you had left him, on his drive home. His cock ached, stretching against his tan trousers, weeping pre-cum. He planned to keep you up all night, but he'd graciously keep filling you, prone and sleepy (with your permission, of course), if you tapped out.

"Darling!" He called out, tossing his briefcase into the corner before slamming the door closed with his foot, "I'm home!"

Except, you weren't. He could feel that instantly, and a seed of horror sowed itself in his core, growing into something far meaner as he picked up the note you had left behind on the kitchen counter for him.

Kento's hand shook, crumpling the paper between strong fingers with a crunch.

He had had enough.

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he dialled, waited...and spoke.

"Ijichi? Tell me where she is. Now, please."

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A brothel, barely masquerading as a Maid Café, skirting the borders of the entertainment districts and the red light districts. The usual Friday night haunt of a Curse user who had been evading capture for months. The dump where you had been sent to honeytrap him before he could escape again.

Kento had dressed to fit in, in a slim black suit and open-necked white shirt, expertly tailored, with just enough room to fit his blunt blade and harness beneath the jacket. He snaked through the dimly lit street, feeling the necking couples in alleyways, cutting through the lamp-illuminated steam billowing from noisy restaurants, until he reached some narrow stairs up, barely visible unless you knew what you were here for.

Ascending the steps, Kento could feel every curve of you on the side of his tongue, tracing your Cursed energy above the suppression of his own. He felt the Curse user, too, and Kento's face twisted into a snarl to feel such filth near you, on tonight of all nights--

"Table for one. Somewhere quiet."

The Maid demurred, smiling and simpering and barely a grown woman, Kento noted, keeping a respectful distance as she led him to his table. The lights were low enough to mute the wandering, clasping hands of the raucous tables of men. The rooms tucked to the side, bathed in red light and sin, were clearly for private commissions.

Urged into a plush corner couch, Kento turned the lamp away from himself, plunging him into shadow. He leaned back, eyes dipped low beneath dark glasses, waiting to taste you on the side of his tongue again. He accepted only a drink.

You had entered actor mode, not unfamiliar with the practice, having reeled in more than one unsuspecting Curse user over the years. In your black and white maid dress, stockings and suspenders, and tall high heels, the devilish fun of the hunt was still tainted by your lost evening with Kento.

You knew, bitterly, that you were ovulating, with sore plump breasts, that familiar low ache on one side of your belly, and your desperate need to be at home, being filled, instead of at a maid cafe trying to reel in this creep. You were doing a good job of looking like you were enjoying the feel of his cold hands creeping around your thighs. You giggled and slapped his chest when he nosed at your neck. Your new manager looked on approvingly, the new girl already raking in the customers.

Before long, you heard the other girls whispering to each other.

"--so hot, but he doesn't want anyone--"

"So what, like...he's just here for drinks? I don't get it--"

"--tried to sit on his lap and he told me I deserved better, what the hell does he mean--"

Intrigued though you were, you hardly had time to see what the ruckus was about. You were moving in for the kill, your flirtations paying off as your prey pressed a wodge of bills into the hand of the manager, and a couple of bills between your breasts.

"Let's go somewhere quiet, doll, yeah?"

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"...sir...I am sorry to interrupt your evening, sir...only, my girls have noticed that they don't seem to be to your liking. Is there anything I can do to make your visit more enjoya--"

"Your new girl," Kento offered, clipped as he interrupted. The manager raised his eyebrows, turning briefly to see you, being toyed with on the lap of another patron. The manager cleared his throat, his pocket full of a fat roll of bills, smiling awkwardly at Kento.

"I'm sorry, sir...it appears another guest has already taken a liking to--"

"How much?" Kento interrupted again, his deep, smooth voice gravitational, drawing the many wandering Maids closer to him. The manager faltered again, so Kento raised his voice, gripping his glass and swirling the bourbon within, amber in the warm distant light.

"How much," Kento enunciated, taking a long draw from his glass, with a hiss, "do you think your new girl is worth? Tell me."

The manager paused, his squirrelly little mind grasping another money-making opportunity. He offered Kento a figure. The girls jumped and squealed as Kento's hand tightened on his glass, breaking it, an audible crack in his hand.

"More," Kento pressed, dropping his glass to the table. Another figure was offered, higher this time. Kento bared his teeth, growling at the manager, leaning forwards on his knuckles as he began to stand.

"More." The manager stuttered, throwing out another, much higher figure.

"MORE." Kento roared, slamming a fist on the table, the café growing immediately silent around him. He thought he saw you try to turn your head in his direction, and a slither of violent disgust burned in his chest as he saw the Curse user grasp you to him by the neck, pressing a sloppy kiss to it.

The manager gawped at Kento, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Kento scoffed, pulling a thick stack of bills out of his pocket, passing it to one of the nearby Maids, without breaking eye-contact with the sweating manager.

"She's priceless," Kento hissed, hearing the Maids gasp behind him at the stack of bills. "So if you know what's good for you...they'll split that between them, and you will not interrupt me. Do we understand each other?"

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You held your Curse user prey by his collar, walking backwards on your heels, leading him to the red velvet room. He grinned at you, all spit and salacious, with cigarette-stained teeth, his hands wandering down to ruck up the skirt of your dress.

You pushed the door open with your heeled foot, pulling the Curse user in with you. The door swung closed behind him, and you had barely a moment to see the hulking, backlit red-spectre lying in ambush behind the door.

"Get your dirty fucking hands off my wife, or I'll snap your neck."

Picked up by the back of the collar, and tossed sideways like a ragdoll, the Curse user hit the wall beside the bed with a dull crack, out cold in under a second. Kento snatched a curtain-tie, binding the Curse-user's hands behind him. You flustered at Kento, as he stood.

"Kento-- what the hell are you doing her--"

You felt your chin gripped, firm but gentle, between Kento's thumb and forefinger. He glowered down at you, icy cold, his protectiveness frosted with jealous possession. His voice was calm, measured, manipulative.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here, little one? Dressed like that, no less...anyone would think you weren't married."

You swallowed, blushing and moving to defend yourself; "It's work, Kento, you know I--"

"--didnt mean anything by it? That it wasn't real?" Kento kept you gripped by the chin, slowly moving you back towards the high edge of the bed. You teetered on your heels, and he stabilised you, one thick arm looping around your waist, pressing you to him. You could feel the throb of his cock lengthening against your belly, and trembled.

"You're right..." Kento whispered, his breath ghosting your lips as he leaned down to trap you against the foot of the bed, caging you in, "...you couldn't possibly be satisfied by him, over me."

Kento fingered the lace edge of your stockings, the ruffled puff of your barely-there skirt. He shuddered against your lips, feeling his cock jump in his boxers.

"...seems a shame to waste this. Let's give these bastards a real show, shall we?" Kento hooked open the door with his heel, enough to hear the laughs and chatter from the café beyond.

After pressing a single, deep kiss to your lips, Kento dropped to his knees, glaring up at you in challenge. You found yourself glassy-eyed with anticipation, biting your lip, smiling as you teased the ruffles of your skirt up, to edge your lace stockings; "...do you like it?"

Kento bit, gripping you round the thighs and pressing them open with bruising force, aggressively nuzzling his face under your skirts. You squealed, laughing as he nipped and licked at you, growling against your mound and nuzzling your wafer-thin panties aside; "I love it...fuck, I love it, c'mere--"

Kento hooked your knees over his shoulders, looping his arms under your thighs to pin you against the foot of the bed. You heard a passing Maid outside your door gasp at the same time as you, at the sight of Kento kneeling and shoulder-deep in the ruffles of your skirts, your stockinged legs over his shoulders, his tongue plunging between your folds to taste you with an ecstatic moan.

"--oh god Kento-- yes yes yes please," you babbled, sinking your fingers into his hair and tugging at the roots. Kento murmured against your pussy, lubricating you with his spit, rolling his nose, tongue, and chin up and down the length of your folds, with all the fervour of a man deprived.

You heard whistles and catcalls from the café, and blushed, throwing one arm over your eyes, your pleasure building with the sloppy debauchery of Kento dipping his tongue into your entrance and nuzzling his nose firmly into your clit. He repeated this, patient, stroking his tongue over and around your clit with relentless wet flicks and sucks. When Kento gently nipped your clit between his teeth, you screamed in alarm, juddering and close to orgasm.

You clamped your thighs around Kento's head, muffling the sounds of the café around him. Reaching up two fingers, plunging them into your pussy and hooking them forwards towards him and the squashy g-spot in your cunt, Kento hooked you. Flicking his tongue from side to side over your clit, Kento chuckled against your pussy, his cock leaping within its confines.

"--in front of every-- Kento, fffuuuck please close them-- nnnngg cumming, cumming I'm cumming--"

You cried out in bliss, convulsing, gripping Kento's hair for dear life. In tandem with your twisting and mewling, you heard a chorus of cheers, hoots and clapping in the café, the men jeering and the women giggling. You shuddered, stunned, still wracked with pleasure.

"More?" Kento asked, nuzzling between your folds still, gripping you tightly to him so you couldn't clamber away across the bed. You babbled nonsense at Kento, slapping at the top of his head as his pulled his face away a little, and repeated, louder; "MORE?"

More cheers sounded from outside, and Kento grinned beneath your skirts, diving in to pleasure you again. You could barely stay upright, seeing stars, crunching around his head. The Curse-user began to stir on the floor to your right, as Kento dragged you across the coals to another stinging orgasm, so sharp after following your first so closely.

Kento came up for air to find you, flopped backwards, flushed and gasping on the bed. Slapping your thighs hard enough to make you squeak, Kento reached down and pulled you up by the back of the neck, pressing a long, familiar kiss to your lips. Tasting yourself on his mouth, you knew his next words to be true.

"Mine. Now, always, and especially-- fucking-- tonight," he emphasised each word with a brittle slap to your thigh. Flipping you over against the bed, face down and arse up, your heeled feet wobbling against the floor, Kento sighed, flipping your skirts up and admiring the view. He trailed his fingers against the top of your stockings, and the way the plush of your thighs peeped over them.

"Still no fucking baby-- and you fuck off to seduce another man tonight? The audacity," Kento purred, and you heard the clink of Kento undoing his belt behind you.

Kento was hooking his weeping, heavy cock out of his boxers just in time to see the Curse-user awaken, dazed and furious at Kento stroking his cock in preparation, over his Maid, strewn helplessly over the bed. Kento smirked, letting his Cursed-energy burst out with enough force to leave the man on the floor, and you on the bed, breathless with the stormy oppression of it.

"...you bastard-- that's my...I paid for her," the Curse user snapped, straining against his bonds. Kento laughed, bracketing you with his thick arms against the bed. His left hand grasped your left hand as he lined his aching cock up with your entrance. Kento slid your clasped hands, wedding bands clearly visible, across the sheets towards the Curse user.

"Yeah? I married her," Kento growled, kicking your heeled feet aside and fucking into you in one smooth movement, rocking his hips a few times against your cries, until he bottomed out with a roar. Kento pulled you to him by your hair, and smacked an affectionate kiss to the side of your face, before flinging you back against the velvet sheets.

He stood tall, gripping your hips to press your pussy close, and cracked his neck from side to side. He heard the enthusiastic crowd behind him, feeling a bizarre prickle of competition down his spine.

When Kento began thrusting into you with joyful abandon, you felt every vein, every throbbing ridge of him. Gripping the sheets for something, anything to stop you from being fucked up the bed, you screamed into the sheets with every hit. When you turned round to shoot Kento a blushing look of barely-sincere fury, Kento landed a stinging slap to your arse, and the Maids behind you giggled at the door.

Kento was lost in the moment, thrilled to be finally able to fill your belly, ecstatic with the knowledge that he was about to spill into you at just the right point in your cycle. His pleasure built fast, grasping your hips and slamming them back onto his cock, with rough slaps and grunts. He controlled himself for long enough to slip his hand beneath your mound, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingers while he whispered husky promises in your ear.

"--so fucking good-- waiting for me...haaah yes, take it-- good girl-- fuck a baby into you tonight-- you want that? Hmm? Is this-- is this it-- is this the--the one...fuck, not gonna last, cum with me, c'mon, please--"

Kento reached over you, his hand grasping you by the neck and jaw, craning your head backwards. He thought he'd be able to last, but when you sucked his forefinger into your mouth, your wet little tongue rolling over the pad as you suckled on it, Kento came with a slew of curses, a rough, alarmed bark.

Wildly overstimulated, you clenched around Kento as he pumped thick ropes of cum into you, feeling him tense and groan against your back with the blinding force of his orgasm. He continued to roll your clit, plugging you and panting until you came with a shaky little cry, your pussy tightening and sucking at his cock until he shivered with residual bliss.

Panting, coming down from your respective highs, you and Kento both turned to look at the Curse user on the floor. A noisy round of applause rang in from the café and you laughed despite yourself, wiggling against Kento.

"Lucky bastard..." the Curse user whined into the rug, "Piece of...piece of shit...should have been me--"

"Fuck off," rumbled Kento, "you're lucky you're not dead. Save it for trial."

You felt Kento rummaging in his pocket behind you. As he slipped his softening cock out of you, you squealed to find yourself hurriedly filled with a dildo, plugging you all the way to your belly. You groaned against the sheets, squirming, and Kento flipped your skirts down.

"...do you want to finish your shift?" He offered, voice full of mirth. You kicked back at him with one heeled foot as he laughed.

"If this is the one that gets us pregnant, I'll kill you."

[charliemwrites]

Okay I’m literally in the middle of work right now, and actively working on the next part for Woof Woof BUT—

Content: Depersonalization, Dissociation, Idle Suicidal Ideation, Codependency

Nikto with a single medic who took over his care once he was freed and stabilized. He was discharged before he left hospital, signed up with Kortac as soon as he could move his arm. Was transferred to their medical team when he was stable enough for transport. Was assigned you.

Nikto whose medic talks at him, not to him, because she’s not trying to get him to talk like everyone else. Just wants him to know he’s not alone.

Nikto who would rather carve her arm off than show his face, but she’s patient and steady when he grabs her wrist. Says “what was the point of surviving all that just to die by infection, hm?”

Nikto with her voice the first and last thing he hears each day, reminding him where he is, who he is. Reminding him that he’s human even if he doesn’t feel that way anymore.

Nikto, who becomes her shadow once he can stand. Who is transferred to her team because he won’t do anything otherwise. Who now drags her out in the dark, early hours for specialty training.

Nikto, who doesn’t follow anyone’s orders but yours. Looks to you for a nod when a captain assigns him a position. Will be at the hangar for your missions whether he’s meant to be there or not. The only person he’ll stay his knife or trigger for, on your command, even if he’s craving blood.

Nikto, who stares when you ask why he acts like this. Who takes his own gun from its holster and gets on his knees. Presses the grip into your palm and wraps your finger around the trigger, steady and unyielding even when you try to tug away. Who presses the barrel to his head point blank.

Tells you in a voice he’s hardly used in months. “It’s your right and my honor to die by your hand.”

Your word is better than God’s because he can still hear you.

And that’s why Nikto instantly lets you go when you cry “stop it!” with tears in your eyes. Lets you hug him so tight his ribs ache, even if he’s forgotten who to return the gesture.

“I-if your life is mine then… then don’t be so careless with it,” you sniffle.

And that’s the first of his new commandments.

Next

Masterlist

[transmascsteveharrington]

Growing up, food is always a bit of a sore spot for Eddie. Of course, Wayne does his best to make sure that Eddie never goes to bed with an empty stomach, but growing boys need lots of fuel. And while there always is food, there often isn’t much food. But it’s fine, Eddie knows Wayne is trying so hard, picking up all the extra shifts he can. Eddie would never hold it against his uncle, he knows how much Wayne already frets. And even though Eddie’s stomach growls every now and then, he learns to ignore it. Learns how not to be hungry.

While other kids experiment what herbs might go best with pasta sauce and how to caramelize sugar without burning it, Eddie tries to find out how to water down soup and stretch stew for days. Figures out how to make rice with beans still taste good on day five. Hunts down coupons and keeps an eye out for discounts so they can have hot dogs on the fourth of july and candy on Halloween. Food is never really pleasure or indulgence. Only something neither he nor Wayne try to worry about. Some days it’s easier than others.

It’s not really until after the upside down, after he has been discharged from the hospital and off the murder accusations, not until Steve that food becomes more than just another annoyingly human need. Thanks to the government hush money and Eddie picking up a mechanic jobat the local garage they don’t need to worry about food anymore. 

But it’s still just means to an end, there is no luxuriating in it, no big cravings, Eddie still cuts out coupons. Steve offers them to host Hellfire at his house and Eddie offers to buy snacks. It’s the least he can do if Steve is letting them into his mansion. But Steve declines, says he’ll take care of it. And he does. 

When Eddie and the rest of Hellfire show up the dining room table (Steve has a dining room Jesus H. Christ) is filled with all kinds of snacks. It’s everyone’s favorite kinds of snack. And not the store brand knock off snacks, no, it’s the real fancy shit. Or well as fancy as pringles and mountain dew can be. But it doesn’t stop there. 

Once the game is over, the kids help clean up, but none of them rush to get their shoes back on or slip into their jackets. Instead, they pile into the kitchen, dragging Eddie and the older kids of Hellfire with them where Steve is already handing them steaming plates of lasagna. 

“You running a soup kitchen, Harrington?” Eddie can’t help but tease as a  plate is pressed into his hands. 

There is a blush creeping over Steve’s face and Eddie instantly regrets his comment. It’s just the snacks, the dinner, it kinda makes him feel inadequate, like he was bad at hosting Hellfire because he never brought snacks let alone dinner.

It takes Eddie a while to understand that Steve doesn’t do it to show off, but simply because he enjoys cooking. He always provides snacks when they are at his house, be it Hellfire, movie night, or pool parties. There is always home cooked food and often even homemade dessert too. The day he bakes a bunch of lemon meringue cookies is a horrible day because those cookies are to die or fall madly in love for and Eddie can feel his stomach swoop. He ignores it like he has ignored all his cravings over the years. And it works for a while.

Until one golden autumn afternoon when Eddie is early and the kids are still at school. Eddie offers to drive around the block a couple of times, but Steve just laughs, tells Eddie not to be stupid. He leads Eddie into the kitchen and motions for him to sit on the counter.  Talks about how he likes company while cooking. The radio in the corner of the kitchen blares pop music loudly and Steve turns it down, no need for it to longer fill the oppressive silence. Eddie hops on the counter, dangles his legs and watches Steve cook. It’s so obviousthat he loves doing it. The way he hums quietly, sautees onions and garlic, stirs in herbs and spices, tastes his sauce, frowns and adds more salt. It’s horribly endearing and cute and dangerous and Eddie can’t tell if his stomach is growling or filled with butterflies. 

“Have you always loved cooking?” he asks, desperate to keep his thoughts from spiraling. Steve laughs again in response and the sound kicks up another storm in Eddie’s stomach. 

“God no,” Steve says and stirs his sauce. “I couldn’t cook for the longest time. Lived off tv dinners and take out for some years.” 

The soft smile of his lips faints slightly. Eddie knows what a bitter taste loneliness can leave in your mouth. Knows that while Steve never had to worry about food, he also never had someone to share it with. 

“Found some cookbooks inthe attic a few years back,” Steve continues. “Tired out some recipes, asked Claudia and Mrs. Wheeler for advice when I couldn’t get something right and well here we are.” 

“Here we are,” Eddie echoes, unable to tear his eyes away from Steve. He looks gorgeous in the golden afternoon light, a dorky apron that says Kiss the cook on it and god how Eddie would like to oblige that order. Steve catches him staring, but doesn’t call him out on it. The corner of his mouth twitches up as he dips a wooden spoon into the sauce, holds a hand under it and turns to Eddie.

“Taste this for me?” he asks, stepping closer, until he is bracketed by Eddie’s thighs. Eddie can just swallow and nod, not sure how to cope with Steve being this close. Steve lifts the spoon until wood touches Eddie’s lips. He parts them hesitantly, lets Steve push the spoon into his mouth, licks the sauce off it. All while looking in the gold honey and caramel of Steve’s eyes. Eddie wonders if Steve's lips would taste of spun sugar too. 

“It’s good,” he rasps once Steve has lowered the spoon. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Steve smiles and god if smiles had a taste, Steve’s would be Eddie’s favorite flavor. The kind of flavor that would teach Eddie indulgence. The same way Steve indulges in his cooking, lets all the time and care he puts in his food speak for how much he loves the people he prepares food for. Because for Steve food is more than just sustenance. It's love. 

Steve goes back to the stove, stirs some more and begins humming again. Eddie continues to watch him. And for the first time in years, Eddie allows himself to be hungry. 

.   

[gardenialver]

Girlies

synopsis - telling him a secret about girls

pairings - Tetsurou Kuroo, Shoyo Hinata, Kenma Kozume

content - fluff, reader is afab and fem, mentions of: periods, pads, boobs, discharge, boob touching but not in a sexual context, wet hair, it's slightly alluded to the length and texture of the readers hair but I've tried to make it slightly more upto interpretation

Tetsurou Kuroo

"Babe, I'm gonna tell you a secret but you can't tell anyone ok?" Your boyfriend looked at you with shaking eyes, "Why are you nervous?" You laugh at him, hitting his shoulder lightly.

"You're making it sound like you're about to tell me you've killed 5 people," You put your legs up over his lap and he holds onto them, "I'm not, this is a girl thing ok? You have to promise not to tell anyone,"

He leaned closer to you, shoving his face into yours, with a hand you pushed him away, keeping your fingers on his cheek. "When girls change their pad, they stick it onto the wall," You felt Kuroo's cheek raise as his face contoured to confusion.

"Wait so you like stick it onto the wall?" You nodded at him, "Yeah we just kinda," You made a slapping motion, "Wait, why?" You side-eyed him, a judgy look on your face.

"Because it's conventional, if you put it on your leg then it hurts like it hurts to take a bandaid off, you always whine when we have to get blood-tested, and if you put it on your leg then it sticks and you get your uterus tissue and blood on your leg and that's nasty,"

"If you put it on the floor then you have to bend to get it and that's uncomfortable and lowkey hurts but if it's on the wall, then you put your new pad on and then grab your old one and roll it up and throw it away, easy, conventional, clean, painless,"

"Wait, that makes so much sense," You nodded, "See, anyways you promise not to tell anyone I told you this, this is top secret," He nodded intently. You placed a small kiss on his cheek and he smiled into you.

Shoyo Hinata

"False alarm it was actually just discharge," You call out to Shoyo as you turn off the washroom light, there he was standing with painkillers, a ginormous plush, a heating pack, and an assortment of desserts.

"Thank you babe," You greet him with a kiss, touched at the lengths he went to just under the pretense that you may be on your period. Despite that he still gave you the large plush and put everything else away, crashing onto your shared bed.

His arms wrapped around you underneath your chest, tossing and turning, ending with you groaning and him stopping with wide worried eyes. "I'M SORRY DEAR ARE YOU OK?? WAS I TOO ROUGH I'M SO SORRY," All you could get out was a pained, "My boobs hurt"

There he was on the bed bowing in apology while you clutched your chest, one hand clutching onto the plush. "I'M SORRY I FORGOT THEY GET SORE!!! DO YOU WANT ME TO MASSAGE THEM OR ANYTHING??" Your boyfriend continued to worry but you threw your plush at him with teary eyes. "NO YOU PERVERT" "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT BABE I'M SORRY"

After a while of back and forth you laid your head against his chest. "It's so annoying Sho, that I keep preparing and thinking my period's here and it's not." He held you close, cupping your chest lightly to lift the weight off of you.

"The discharge wasn't this bad before was it?" He asks peering down at you and you only lull your head, "No it's been this bad I'd just never tell you properly." He pressed a long kiss to your cheek, "My poor babbyyyyy" He droned.

"Your boobs get very sore, your cravings kinda startish? The headaches and back pain, sometimes you get early cramps," He began to list and just saying it out loud made your body feel even worse and as she felt the weight pressing against him he leaned back.

"Is it like this for all girls? I only have Natsu to go off of and I'm sure she'd be uncomfortable telling her adult brother that," He said while moving his hands to rub your back.

"Yeah, I mean some girls have it easier and only get it for like 3-4 days and their pre-symptoms aren't as bad but it's definitely bad enough for you to mistake it as your period." While offering comforting kisses he continued to ask questions.

"Ohhh is this why girls will pack double the underwear on a trip for like three days?" You nodded, "So this is that type of emergency?" You nodded again, holding him closer out of the need for affection.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO CHANGE YOU???" "PERVERT" You yelled again lamely hitting him. "I'M SORRY, I JUST FEEL LIKE I FINALLY HAD AN EPIPHANY, A REVELATION, A BREAKTHROUGH." "A full circle moment? Well an emergency is also if you get your period and then you leak"

He nodded and adjusted himself closer to you, "Thank you for telling me babe," He cheerily thanks and you nodded, lips finally turning up at another kiss.

Kenma Kozume

With a towel slung over your shoulders you smiled at the feeling of cool air hitting your skin, "Babe I'm done showering" You call out to him, your slippers thumping against your feet and the flooring as you find him.

"Thanks I'll go shower now," He mutters to you, holding your hand momentarily before sulking off to the washroom. As you settled into his gaming chair, preparing to benefit off of his high levels and high currency in games you heard the usual shriek, pouting as you went to check on him.

"[Lastname] [Name], can you stop doing this." He scolded you while pointing to the cluster on the wall, "No," "What is this?" "Uh, my hair??" He rolled his eyes, "This is gross, this is nasty, why is your wet hair in clumps on the shower wall, THE SHOWER THAT WE SHARE"

"Ugh, stop being so dramatic, be happy it's not in the bath, either way all girls do this," He deadpans at you, "I don't care if all girls do it, I don't want to see your wet hair whenever I go to shower, your hair's long too''

"Can you stop being misogynistic? My hair's not even as long as you're saying it is" You mock him, trying to leave until you were held back. "No can you get rid of it?" He glared with his arm wrapped around you.

"Why can't you just do it yourself?" But you still complied as he carried you from point A, the shower wall, to point B, the trash can. "Ok now go shower in peace," You finally left the room, the steamed room now suffocating you since you had finished your shower.

Sighing again at the cool air that hit your exposed skin you went back to playing games on Kenma's computer, finally getting touchy with him when he emerged from the washroom.

You wrapped yourself around him, watching him play a horror game, your own version of mansplaining coming out of you whenever he wouldn't follow your instructions.

As time passed so did you and your partner's bathing practice. "I've finished showering babe," You call out to him, a new set of pajamas on your body and the usual sigh of refresh when feeling the slight breeze of the cooler air outside the bathroom.

Again your slippers thumped against the floor while you searched for Kenma, "Hi Kodzuken," You teased as you placed your chin against his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and continued playing a little longer before he finally left to wash, allowing you to take over his gaming set. "pikmin" But again you were stopped by a noise of alarm in the bathroom.

However, this time instead of annoyance you now had a small smile on your face, knowing exactly what he was calling you for. "What??" "DID YOU MAKE F****** APPLETUN WITH YOUR WET HAIR??" "No that's obviously Wooloo, have fun showering,"

[ohsunnyboy]

coherent waves | lee anton ˚₊‧⁺˖

people say the first touch of fate feels like a circuit being completed. so why does lee anton's soulmate seem to hate him?

TAGS: soulmate!au, college!au, gn!reader, cute and awkward engineering majors!anton and reader, confessions in the rain, kiss!

A/N: this boy bias wrecked me SO hard i paused writing a sungchan fic for this haha self-indulgent SCREAMiing as always (to clarify, his mark is on his left, our right)

WORDS: ~1700

Everyone knows Lee Anton's face.

No matter what, everyone's got their campus crushes. The people they'd linger around a corner for in hope of seeing, those with soulmarks you wish would line up just perfectly with your own. Somewhere out there, someone's walking around with your first touch of fate around with them. It's for that reason everyone knows Anton as the campus crush.

It's impossible to miss the six feet of cuteness, the shoulders broad enough to span the Californian coast and the tan handprint branded across his left cheek. Lee Anton, the sweetest guy on campus whose soulmate was destined to slap him in the face once they met. Nothing in it spelt destiny for you, but it was definitely curiosity at first sight.

"Hey, are we okay? Just at group study…” And your brain sputters like a misfiring car. He’s right behind you, isn’t he?

You want to pretend you didn’t hear him over the bucketing rain – maybe even your thunderous heart. Without an umbrella, you’re screwed if you run down the library steps into the dark and you’d look insane to push past him back into the library. Damn.

Not once did you dare speak to him during the entire group study. Though the feeling of his curious eyes lingering on you alone lit you up like a fuse about to blow. No wonder he's asking you if you're okay. The entire time you acted like some tween with a stupid crush. Which you’re not. Clearly and obviously not. First year electrical engineering has enough problems to give you a migraine.

Something about being around him sets your brain off like a capacitor discharging. Everything firing off at once, without a thought of where to go.  

"No? Yes! Yes. Fuck – sorry. We’re fine." Is what you come up with.

And some boy can apparently render you stupid within two feet of him. Someone needs to remind you how you’re a candidate for the dean’s list again.

Your stilted answer and the ensuing silence cause the corner of Anton's lip to quirk into a grimace. "Ah – okay. Sorry, I'll see you Friday.” When he takes out his umbrella it nearly whacks you in the face before he starts to run down the steps, leaving not a glance behind him.

Ah, shit.

Stunned, you’re left with a) no umbrella and b) a burning sense of mortification about how badly that went. Before you know it, your feet are running you down the path he took. One problem at a time… c’mon fix this. "Hey! Hey wait up, please! Anton!"

Running in the pouring rain was something you never planned on doing tonight or any day of the week but for fixing whatever you’ve got with Anton – it seems worth it.

Whatever they used to say about stem majors being chronically unfit bookworms definitely applies to you, as your heart thuds in your skull and lungs start to give out. Somehow after months of trailing behind his broad back, you underestimated how quickly he can escape you. 

Finally, like a lighthouse in the night, his blue umbrella is radiant under the light of the bus stop. “Anton!”

Three months of dodging each other’s eyes and scampering out empty classrooms early, Anton’s eyes are at the edges of almost all your memories. You know his wide eyed look anywhere. But with as much grace of a new-born giraffe, you sidle next to him under his umbrella, unaware of the blush warming Anton’s face.

Thankfully there’s no one else about apart from him to watch you keel over for a solid minute to gather your breath. Internally you think you’re as bright red as the LEDs you use in the labs. That, and so soaked you’re sure you're waking up with a cold tomorrow. Though, it could be worse. It could be whatever happened earlier.

Caught again in his orbit, you feel it again. The charge crackling under your skin that makes you want to claw at it.

It’s a moment before anyone speaks, still too busy process what exactly is going on. Eventually you gain your bearings and look into his shifty eyes with resolution.

“Hey look – I’m super sorry about everything,” you blurt. “The entire thing with the study group and completely dodging you in class. I – well, it’s not on purpose but I don’t know why but it’s like I get caught in some interference feed within like a metre of you and I just can’t think straight. Everything just sort of fires off in an incoherent mess. I’m trying, I really do but for once, I just can’t explain it.” It pours out in what feels like one breath. You feel like you’re teetering on the spot, on the cusp of embarrassment or sheer confidence. At this point, it might just be both. “… Sorry if I made you uncomfortable about anything but you’re top of our year, so damn cool and collected all the time – I feel like my wires get mixed up.” 

There’s an ache in your neck from looking up to him and watching his reaction. Calm and collected as always. It must be the longest you’ve ever got to look him in the eyes properly. Until,

“Me too.”

Huh?

Anton pauses for a moment, worrying the inside of his cheek before admitting, “I… I really wished we could talk more but you’re always busy and I feel awkward butting in. You’re really intimidating in the group studies, you know? You know everything and get along with everyone so easily. I psyche myself out.”

As he talks, your cheeks warm in endearment and you shuffle closer while he’s distracted. The familiar scent of cherries that would haunt you around campus suddenly right under your nose.

“I mean, I thought you’d just be another person put off by this-“ he waves a self-conscious hand over his soulmark “-and being avoidant because of that. Though I guess I figured you didn’t care because you never lingered on it like… like everyone else.”

It comes to you all in pieces. Anton always ducking his head away, never looking anyone straight on, always pursing his lips and turning away whenever someone brought up soulmarks. Those rumours haunt him.

However, standing here you’ve never been more confident. You know your what your hand looks like.

Does he?

“I think it has a good story.” The look of disbelief he gives you is priceless but you push on. “I mean, mine’s just on my palm just like seventy percent of the population so it can be boring.” Under the light, you raise your hand to him, showing the contrasting darker skin on your right palm and the small shake of your fingers. Anton locks onto your mark with a laser focus that you’ve never seen before. “And besides… I think you know what your soulmark actually is.”

One step closer: you’re just a hairsbreadth away. So close you can feel is body heat through his hoodie and see your breath leaving goosebumps on the expanse of his exposed neck. In the reflection of his blown pupils you can almost see yourself.

He swallows, eyes never leaving your palm. "You know what everyone says about it." Anton chews at his lip, bitten raw from worry. It’s stupidly endearing whether he knows it or not. Instead of dropping it, you raise your hand, leaving it to rest on his shoulder in comfort. “That the only reason I get slapped is because I’m secretly an asshole?”

"You don't know that it’s a slap for sure.”

"Then what else could it be then.”

"Really, Anton?" you hum. He’s so tense under your hand you feel like he could shatter from where you touch him. His eyes dazed and lingering where your hand used to be "We’re both smarter than this.”

Under the streetlight, what he has is clear as day to you while you trace his mark with your eyes. The thumbprint that curls across his left cheekbone, to the fingertips that edge from his hairline to his jaw and even the light shadow that touches the corner of his lip – as if he’s pressing a kiss to the heel of their palm. "Whoever it is, they're holding you."

“…Whoever it is… ?” he murmurs.

Anton’s unwavering gaze finally bores into you. Two interstellar blackholes swallowing you up and bearing down. An infinite number of thoughts or none at all. All behind those eyes, calculating and calibrating. You wonder where he is in that brilliant mind of his.

“Do it.”

You’re so careful.

You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if you hurt him. Maybe this doesn’t work out? What if you’re just another person in the crowd watching and waiting for someone else. You knew from the moment you started high school, life was a bunch of problems that you had to solve. The sheer existence of uncertainty guarantees nothing in any aspect of your life. What is guaranteed already, what are the variables, what are you working with. Whatever this is – it’ll be another problem but not one you get to calculate – it's one you need to guess.

His skin is too warm, and your hand is too cold. Nothing sparks but something is complete in your heart.

It fades. The marks – yours, his, all of it. It recedes back as if it never existed.

"I told you so."   

The clatter of the umbrella is your only warning before his hands cup your face and he kisses you. He kisses you in earnest, softer than you'd expect and warm enough to make your knees weak. With a deceptive strength, Anton presses you back against a railing, and your arms loop around his neck, hands burying in his hair. Hidden muscles you used to wonder about, tense where you touch him.

Eyes closed to the rain, foreheads knocked together and not a care in the world. You’re pulled into him like air. Both of you are trembling with relief. Like coherent waves, you come together in sync and everything you feel is amplified between you two. It’s then you know exactly what was racing in his mind.

Smiling into your neck, Anton sighs. "I'm yours." His voice lower and a little bit breathier. It makes your heart skip a beat, and your mouth turns up at the corners.

All across your veins it’s like a current is pushing through your skin. Anton and you, a circuit complete.

blehh i'm rusty but i'm starting uni as a mechEng student soonish so wish me luck 🫡 a reblog or a like always helps to encourage more thank you! ⭒ masterlist

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

Frannie and I wanted to get married right away, but our families tried to talk us out of it. They didn’t want Frannie to marry a cripple. They gave us a lot of trouble. They told Frannie, “You’re going to have to take care of him. The older he gets, the worse it’s going to get.” But that wasn’t me. I knew I’d live a normal life. I never believed in saying “I can’t.” If someone else can do something, I can do it. I may do it different, it may be awkward, but I’ll do it. If you climb a ladder, I’ll climb a ladder. I may go up every rung on my ass, but I’ll do it. I have done it. April 23, 1945, Frannie and I ran away to Elkton, Maryland, and eloped. Not a penny between us, just each other. When you got something good you don’t let it get away. I married an angel. She put up with me and my crazy ways. Calmed me down. She understood me, helped me, never stopped me from doing anything I wanted to do. She was my leg, she was everything. Gotta give the gal credit. We went on our honeymoon in Columbus, Ohio. Drove to Johnny Martin’s house. Where were we gonna go, Hawaii? We didn’t have a damn dime. Johnny got discharged early for medical reasons, so we went to see him and Pat. We did things simple, but we had fun.

~ Bill Guarnere

[sunny44]

Stubborn

Paring: Carlos Sainz x Leclerc!reader

Warnings: mentions of surgery, appendix removed, sickness and maybe other things

Summary: Carlos insists on going to the race even after just having surgery.

This story is the second part of Secret Love, but if you haven't read the first part you'll understand this chapter here without any problem. But I would recommend you read it.

Today was race day and we were getting ready to leave the hospital. Since the surgery went well, they discharged Carlos.

“Honey, I’ve finished packing your things. Can we go to the hotel and…” At that moment, he emerged from the bathroom wearing the Ferrari shirt. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“We’re heading to the Paddock,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief.

“Of course not, are you crazy? You just had surgery and you already want to go back there?”

“Honey, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You have stitches in your stomach and you already want to go there? You’re not even going to race.”

“Babe.”

“No, listen, if you want to go, fine.” I angrily threw the rest of his things into the backpack. “But I’m not going with you.”

“Y/n.”

“No, I went through hell yesterday fearing something might happen to you, only for you to tell me you want to go there to watch the race.” I zipped up the backpack. “I hate this, you and Charles are just the same.”

“What does your brother have to do with this?”

“That you both have this reckless tendency to put your lives at risk for stupid things.” I tried to control myself from crying. “I won’t have another one in my life who makes me go through this.”

Before he could say anything, his father entered the room, and I stormed out, heading back to the hotel.

It’s things like this that makes me angry. I already have two brothers who are always putting themselves in danger and often doing unnecessary things. I never used to be so afraid of these things until Jules’ death. It was a dark moment in our lives, and knowing that he died in a way that my two brothers and now my boyfriend could also die leaves me extremely worried and on the verge of having a panic attack.

So the fact that he wants to go to the paddock to watch the race after surgery makes me furious.

When I got to the hotel, I went straight to take a shower, dried my hair, and put on pajamas since I would be here the rest of the day. I ordered room service and turned on the TV to watch the race, and immediately saw Carlos entering the paddock. He was walking slowly because of the surgery, and I just shook my head and settled back into bed.

Midway through the race, I was packing my bags since I would be catching a flight to Monaco early tomorrow morning when the door suddenly opened scaring me and Carlos walked into the room.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door.

“Hey.” I finished packing my suitcase and placed it on the floor.

“Leaving?”

“We have a flight to Monaco tomorrow morning, so…”

“Are you staying at my place or…”

“I’m staying at my mom’s.”

“I thought you were staying with me.”

“That was before this morning.”

“Y/n…”

“I’m not trying to control you or tell you what to do, but you were extremely irresponsible with your health today by going to the race, which could harm your recovery.”

“I know.”

“And yet you went.”

“But I’m here, I came back because I knew you were right and…” He stopped because he winced in pain.

“Lie down.” I took his hand and helped him onto the bed, lifting his shirt. “Did you changed this today?”

“Not yet.” I sighed and got the things I had bought earlier in the morning, starting to clean the wound. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” I said, finishing cleaning and applying a new dressing. “Here are your medications, they might make you a bit drowsy, so you’ll probably fall asleep.”

“I’m really sorry,” he said again. “Charles didn’t explain the reason, but he told me this upsets you.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Do you want to tell me why?” He opened his arms, and I lay down on his chest.

“It’s because Jules died doing what you and my brothers do.” He hugged me tighter. “And I remember vividly the pain I felt when they buried him, leaving only memories and grief.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way and that I contribute to what scares you.”

“I don’t mind your job; I like seeing you do what you love and achieving your dreams. But I can’t help feeling scared every time you, Charles, or Arthur get into those cars.” I sighed and started tracing circles with my fingers on his chest. “It’s just that I don’t know if I could handle it if something happened to any of you. It’s not about the surgery; I just want to prevent anything from happening to you guys over something as trivial as going to watch the race in person after having your appendix removed.”

“I’m sorry for not realizing that and for ignoring your advice to rest.”

“It’s okay, I should have been honest about what was scaring me.”

“Are we okay?” he asked.

“We are.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “But from now on, if you do something like this again, you’ll have to work a lot harder for my forgiveness. I’m just being nice now because you’re recovering.”

“Okay, that’s fair enough for me.” We switched positions, and he lay on my chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Bonus scene!

Carlossainz instagram stories

“Thank you all for the love messages you’ve been sending to me, it has certainly helped me a lot. I'm still recovering but with the help of all my team and my wonderful girlfriend I'm getting better every day." Tagged: Y/nleclerc

[topbestsexologistindelhi]

Males most frequently experience premature ejaculation as one of their difficulties. Premature ejaculation refers to when regular sexual activity occurs earlier than usual. Early fall, rapid orgasm, and early discharge are other names for it. Males of all ages, 30% to 40%, struggle with this issue. If you're looking for solutions to effectively treat early prema in delhi . Make contact with Delhi's leading sexologist.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask & this ask Series Masterlist

Soft!Dark!Coriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, StepDaddy!Coriolanus, Stepcest, Stepdaughter!Reader, Daddy Kink, Smut, DDLG, drug use reference, cougar/cub relationship, older man/younger woman

Chapter 1:

Your mother, recently widowed for the second time, sat you and your younger brother down on the living room sofa because she had an important announcement to make. She even had your older brother, who was serving as an officer for the Peacekeepers in 12, on video call for the special announcement.

An announcement that would change the rest of your life.

“Children, I'm getting married to the Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow.”

“What the hell?...” Your younger brother, Darius, trailed off in disgust.

“Mother, I went to the Academy with that guy! He's too fucking young for you!” Your older brother, Rein, shouted.

“Oh my God, you're a cougar!” You exclaimed, trying but failing not to laugh. You found it a bit funny that your mother has managed to snag a man your older brother's age. Who would've thought. Maybe all those facelifts paid off after all…

“Will you children stop it?” Your mother scolded all three of you. “Coriolanus is a nice man who's about to declare a Senate run. He's very successful and mature for his age.”

“Sounds like he's freaky to me.” Darius, who was 13, remarked.

Oh, if only you all knew how ‘freaky’ Coriolanus Snow was. And he wasn't truly into cougars freaky either.

Snapping his fingers, causing the screen on his end in the Peacekeepers base to crackle, Rein said, “Lil bro’s right, man has to be freaky to wanna marry somebody old enough to be his mother.”

“Maybe he really likes her.” You shrugged, trying to put out any fanning fires before they flare up.

Oh boy…if only you knew who Coriolanus really liked. And it wasn't your mother, that's for sure.

“Or maybe he's marrying her for father's money?” Darius popped up with another theory.

“He was named Strabo Plinth's heir for being best friends with the man's only son. I don't see why mother's money would mean anything to him.” You told everyone, since you didn't think that a rich man would be a gold digger.

“Coriolanus Snow was always a shifty bastard.” Rein spat out in disgust. “Walked around with a stick up his ass in the Academy.” Your brother mocked the blonde your mother's now engaged too. Leaning in closer, so that his face was almost pressed up against the camera screen, he revealed, “Heard that he was given an extremely early discharge instead of being shipped to 2 for officer's training- which I'm glad for cause I would've strangled that pompous motherfucker if I had to do my training with him- cause Plinth desperately needed an heir.”

Your mother shook her head, only to order in a fed up tone, “Will all of you calm down? Whether you like it or not, I'm marrying him and he's going to be your stepfather.”

A week before the wedding you moved into Coriolanus' penthouse. It wasn't the 12th floor Corso penthouse he was raised in either. No, it was a new top floor penthouse in downtown Capitol City; in one of the Luxe Buildings. Actually, it was in the same building your friend from the Academy, Odysseus Odair, lived in.

When the Avox answered the door, your mother strolled on in like she was a queen. “Coriolanus, we're here!” She called out to your soon to be new stepfather as you and Darius walked inside of your new home.

“Rein’s right, dude looks shady as fuck, sis.” Darius whispered to you as Coriolanus came strutting down the hall in a deep red 3-piece suit, hair short on the sides and slicked back in a tight coif. “I don't trust him as far as we can throw him.”

“Be nice. He makes mom happy and he looks-” You began to tell your baby brother, only for him to cut you off with, “If you dare try to tell me that he looks happy too, then don't.” Looking between Coriolanus giving your mother a peck on the cheek, which looked more like the kiss of Judas then affectionate, and you, Darius said, “He looks like what I imagine Lucifer did before he fell from grace.”

“Don't call him Lucifer.” You chastised your brother.

“What? If the name fits…” He sing-songed with a shrug.

Coriolanus said something to your mother, only to shoo her down the hall before making his way over to you and your little brother.

“Here comes Satan.” Darius quietly whispered, never moving his mouth- much like a ventriloquist.

Coming to a stop right in front of you and your brother, Coriolanus flashed you a smile. One that was too sweet, too wide, showing off too many pearly white teeth. “Y/N.” He greeted you, your name dripping off his tongue thickly, causing your heart to race. If he was handsome looking at a distance, hell…he's hotter up close. And the way he just said your name? Holy shit…

Turning to your brother, Coriolanus’ face turned to stone. His voice was cold and clipped as he greeted him with a backhanded, "Oh, Darian isn't it?”

“Darius.” Your brother quickly corrected the tall platinum blonde looming over the two of you.

“Ah, yes, that's right.” Coriolanus nodded his head in a dismissive way. “Darius, the Avox will show you to your room.” He told your brother before snapping his hands and ordering the nearby Avox to, “Show Darius here to his room. Also, make sure his things are unpacked.”

The Avox took your brother upstairs to show him to his room while Coriolanus gave you a lingering look. A look that made your stomach do somersaults.

“I'll show you around your new home.” He told you, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you across the room.

“Thank you, but you don't have to do that. I know you're busy with your upcoming Senate campaign.”

“I'm your daddy now, my sweet baby girl, and daddy’ll always have plenty of time for his baby.” Coriolanus told you with a glint in his icy eyes and a husky tone in his voice. Perhaps too husky…

You didn't say a word, just let him show you the living room before bringing you into the kitchen. “We have a cook, so if there's anything special you want don't be shy to request it.”

“Is our housekeeper, Marisol, here?” You innocently asked, since you didn't see the woman (originally from 2) in the penthouse. You had assumed she'd be moving with you, since she lived with your family in your old townhouse.

“Yes-” Coriolanus heavily sighed while directing you out of the kitchen. “About that. Well, she missed her family back in the districts so she decided to go back.”

That was a lie. Marisol didn't decide to go back to 2. Coriolanus sent her back. In a pine box. Because she was too dangerous to be kept alive and around you. She cares about you too much, was warm and motherly to you. He knows that the former housekeeper would warn you away from him. Hell, would probably fight him- all to protect you from his plans.

Yes, his dark plans to finally have you.

And by have you, well, Coriolanus wants to take your innocence. He wants to be the first and only man to fuck you. He wants to be your lover, your confidant, your other half, your man.

He can't have some District 2 immigrant housekeeper ruining his plans either. Not when everything's perfectly set in place.

Yea…

Coriolanus isn't marrying your mother because he likes her, he's marrying her to get close to you. All because he's obsessed with you. And the thought of having you call him Daddy while he pounds your pussy drives him wild.

You could say that Coriolanus has a bit of a daddy kink. One that he plans on enacting with you real soon. You're 18 and you'll be graduating from the Academy soon. Now's the perfect time to get everything he wants.

After seeing the first floor of the penthouse (yea, the grand thing has 2 floors!), which included your mother sitting out on the patio deck with a cocktail in one hand and cigarette holder in the other, Coriolanus led you up the sleek, modern staircase- that had a glass wall bannister. Instead of leading you to your room, he took you over to the balcony- which had a glass wall as a railing.

“All of this is yours, my darling.” Coriolanus whispered, breath hotly fanning your ear, as his hard muscled chest pressed against your back. His large, calloused hands were on top of yours, which were holding onto the railing, as you looked down at the first floor of the penthouse. He nuzzled your hair with his prominent nose while letting out a husky promise off, “Anything you want, you desire, Daddy’ll get it for you, sweet baby girl.” His thumbs run over your knuckles as he lightly grinds his hard bulge into your ass. “Daddy’ll take such good care of his precious baby girl, now that you're all mine.”

Your brain began to explode. What the hell?! What's going on?! Is your stepdad (well soon to be stepdad in a couple of weeks) coming onto you? Yes, he's your older brother's age (they went to the Academy together), but he's marrying your mother. This can't be happening!

Oh, but yes, yes it is.

It's happening!

Coriolanus, knowing that he has to show you to your room, pulled away from you. You let you a breath you didn't even know you were holding, but you also felt a slight tingling feeling between your legs. A dampness. You know it's wrong it let Coriolanus words affect you so strongly, but they did.

“Come on, Y/N.” The platinum blonde god of a man told you, grabbing your hand and dragging you away from the balcony. “I need to show you to your room.”

“Okay.” You simply said, voice trembling a bit from the slight ache in your core.

Damn him for turning you on just a moment ago.

Coriolanus smirked at hearing the slight tension in your voice. He liked that he was making you all hot and bothered. Having such power over you thrilled him, gave his already too big ego a boost.

He pointed to a bathroom, only to tell you that it was yours before coming to a stop at your room. Across from your room were intricate French doors, trimmed in gold vining roses. With a wolfish grin, Coriolanus gestured to the doors across from your room and told you, “That's my room, my darling.” Pinning you to your door by holding your hands above your head in one of his large hands; leaning his head to ghost his lush lips over the shell of your ear, he huskily coos, “It's my room, all mine, so you're allowed to come in and spend time with me anytime you want.”

“But-” You began to object to his forward come on, since he was marrying your mother soon, but he cut you off by placing a finger on your lips. Grinding his hard bulge, which was very sizable, into you, he lustfully declared, “My room’s my own, sweet girl, so I assure you that we won't get caught.” Your eyes went wide, causing him to nibble at the sweet spot behind your ear. “I know you want to fuck me as badly as I wanna fuck you, Y/N. I can hear your labored breathing and can feel you clenching your thighs; they're rubbing against my legs.

“Coriolanus, you're marrying my mother and you're-” You began to try and reason with him, only for him to grab your chin in his hand. Squeezing it harshly, he confessed, “I don't care about that old whore. Helenium’s only a means to an end; you're the one that I want. That I crave, that I want to bury my cock deep into; fuck full of children.”

“We can't do that, Cor-” You started to say, only for him to curtly cut you off with, “Call me Coryo or Daddy.” Caressing your cheek, he lustfully smiled, “You'll be calling me Daddy while I fuck you, baby girl.”

Oh boy…you're in for it now.

You felt the heat pooling deep inside of you. Your pussy ached with such want, one that you've never felt before. And even tho you knew it was wrong, you needed relief. God, you needed to find a way to get yourself alone in your room so that you could play with your pussy.

As if he could read your mind, Coriolanus rolled his hips against yours, causing you to stifle a moan, while telling you, “You want to hide in your room, fuck your fingers, but you don't need to do that anymore. Not when you have Daddy to fuck you; make you feel good.”

The offer was tempting, but there was just one catch.

“I'm a virgin, Coryo. I-” You began to explained, only for Coriolanus to press a kiss to your lips, shushing you. All words died on your lips, causing Coryo to rest his forehead against yours and say, “Don't worry, sweet girl, Daddy’ll pop your sweet cherry when you're ready.” Your heart raced in your chest as he told you, “Daddy'll feast on your pussy, finger fuck you, and teach you how to suck cock- like a good baby girl- tonight.”

The sound of a doorknob turning and a door beginning to open caused Coriolanus to back away from you- as if he’d been burned- and scurry off into his room, leaving you leaning against the door of yours, as a nearby door slammed shut followed by footsteps coming up the hall. You just sighed, turned around, and went inside of your room.

You expected to see your things in your room, or at least boxes with your things in it, but instead you're met with a room that was baby pink. Actually, it wasn't just baby pink, but it was covered in girly decor. The furniture was white, the duvet was pink rose print, the satin sheets pink, and the pillow cases pink roses with pink ruffles. A large white mirror sat on top of a white vanity that had a vase with a single white rose perched on it, along with white pearls, and a silver compact. You also have a wooden hair bow organizer on the wall filled with bows and ribbons in various shades of white, cream, red, pink, and rose prints.

And when you inspected your closet, to see if maybe your clothes were unpacked, you noticed that you had an entirely new wardrobe. Instead of your usual clothes, your large walk-in closet was now filled with mini skirts, dresses, blouses, and sweaters in various shades of cream, white, and pink. There were even a few red items amongst the mix too. And all of your shoes were replaced with Mary Jane’s in a few different shades and a pair of designer black kitten heels. You know, the ones with the red bottoms. And don't forget about the shelf filled with designer handbags in every size in the colors of white, cream, pink, and red.

Yes, red! You had about 20 new handbags and at least 5 of them were red!

Oh my God, Coriolanus did all of this for you…

It made your head spin.

A knock sounded at your door, causing you to call out a simple come in. You expected Coriolanus to strut thru the door, but instead your little brother, Darius entered.

“Sis, daddy dearest is a fucking whackbag. He gave me a closet full of new, snobby clothes and a handbook on how to behave properly like a Snow.” Darius told you as you sat down on your vanity chair. Taking in the decor of the room, he huffed, “And he's made you the croquette aesthetic princess.” Shuddering, he waved his hand about and said, “The walls look like they've been painted in pepto bismol.”

“Darius, stop. He's just trying to be nice.” You defended Coriolanus without even thinking twice about it.

Did you secretly desire the forbidden fruit? The man whose obsession with you has led him to marry your mother. Just to get you under his roof; in his bed.

Yes.

Yes you did.

And whether you fully know it yet or not, you're sneaking into his room tonight to see if he's bluffing about what he wants to do to you.

Wandering around your room, Darius scoffed. “There's nothing nice ‘bout Satan, sissy.”

“Don't call Coryo Satan, Darius.” You scolded your brother as he opened up your dresser drawer.

“Coryo?” He asked, brow raised. “I see he managed to win you over. What'd he do, promise to give you your own black Amex?” Darius sarcastically asked, only to slam the drawer he was rooting thru shut. “That sick fuck gotcha a lingerie drawer full of lacy stuff.”

“I doubt he got it. Maybe his cousin picked them out for me, she is a stylist.”

“Yea, maybe.” Darius nodding, all the while making a mental note to keep an eye on how your new stepdaddy acted around you.

Mhm…

After seeing that panties drawer, well, your little brother didn't trust Coriolanus around you. Not that he trusted the guy to begin with.

Late that night, when everyone was asleep, you found yourself in Coriolanus' room; writhing in his bed with his head buried between your legs. Your hands clutched his platinum blonde curls tightly, letting out little mewls as he lapped at your soaking cunt. His nose bumped against your clit, causing your hips to buck-chasing your pleasure.

“Oh…Daddy…” You moaned as he began to messily eat our pussy, his head moving side to side vigorously. Oh god, could Coriolanus eat cunt. He was a natural at it; born to do it. And his skill was going to make your eyeballs roll into the back of your head, was going to make you cum for a third time.

The first time he made you cum was when he had you pressed against his bedroom door, panties pulled to the side with his long, large fingers stuffed deep inside of your pussy. The second time he has you cumming was just moments ago, when he was tongue fucking you.

Coriolanus loved hearing you call him Daddy in the bedroom. It made his hard cock even harder, of that was possible. It was such a turn on. Yes, it was dirty and taboo to be fucking with his soon to be stepdaughter (twisted even), but he didn't care. Coriolanus always did what he wanted; society be damned.

Hell, with his silver tongue he had turn society to his will. Make and change the rules. So, he's not worried about the Capitol finding out about his dark, kinky side when it comes to you- his sweet little stepdaughter. His baby girl.

He's got a plan in place of how to navigate his marriage and the corruption of you. Eh…he doesn't plan on being married that long. He just needs to find the opportune moment to get rid of your mother. Of course, after he's married to her for a little while (just long enough to get his grubby hands on all of her money; her assets, and your brother's inheritance that he tricked her into signing over to him in an updated will).

Coriolanus poisoned your first stepfather, General Prometheus Byzantine because he refused his offer of courtship for you. The General laughed in his face; told him that he'd get to you over his dead body. He also told Coriolanus that his stepchildren (you and your older brother, Rein) would not be inheriting anything from him or your mother, that your little brother, Darius, would get it all. That Coriolanus was better off finding a proper Capitol girl- perhaps one closer to his own age, to marry.

But the stoic platinum blonde didn't want just anybody, he wanted you. And he'd do anything to get you. Which’s working so far, considering he's devouring your cunt like a starving man.

“Coryo…Daddy…please…” You begged, on the verge of cumming again, as you felt the knot burning low in your depths begin to tighten

Resting his head against your thigh, he lustfully told you, “Daddy's got you, baby girl. Daddy's gonna make you cum again.”, before sucking hard and fast on your clit and pistoning two of his long fingers in and out of your cunt; curling them just right to hit that spongy spot deep inside of you.

And while your chest is heaving, moans are spilling out of your mouth, and your hips are bucking like wild, Coryo’s feasting on you like your cunt as if he hasn't eaten in years. Your juices taste so good to him, so intoxicating. He can honestly say that your pussy’s the best he's ever tasted (and he's eaten a lot of pussy); he'll even say that he craves it's sweet, tangy nectar on his tongue now.

Oh, and how eating your cunt has him so turned on. So achingly hard, that he's roughly grinding into the mattress, desperate to seek some relief. But the sloppier he eats you out, drawing moans and mewls from your sweet lips, the harder and faster he humps into the mattress. The silk sheets teasing his cock, which was trapped in his boxer briefs.

Suddenly, the tension inside of you snapped and you were cumming. Mixed moans of Coryo and Daddy filled the air as your hands tangled in Coryo’s blonde curls, shoving him deeper into your cunt as you rode out your high.

The scent of your cunt, your juices soaking not just his tongue, but his face, and you calling his name sent Coryo over the edge; had him cumming in his boxer briefs.

Once you relaxed and let go of his hair, Coryo got up and stripped out of his underwear (he couldn't wear cum filled boxer briefs all night) and then rejoined you on the bed. Laying next to you, he held his arm open- inviting you to snuggle up into his side. Having never been with a man or experienced aftercare before, you just stared at him questioningly. As if you weren't sure whether to slide up next to him or not.

“Y/N, my darling rose, come here.” Coriolanus instructed, patting the spot next to him before stretching his arm out again; making room for you.

“Okay, Daddy.” You nodded, scooting your body to lay flush against him.

Wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, he chuckled, “You don't have to call me that all the time, baby. Just when we're fucking around.”

“So, outside of the bedroom you're Coryo then.” You concluded, resting your head on his chest.

“Unless you want me to fuck your brains out somewhere risky, where we might get caught, then yea- save Daddy for in here.”

“So, you have a Daddy kink “ You stated, not asked, as Coryo started to run the tips of his calloused fingers up and down your spine.

“Yes, and I'm also a Dom.” He stated, as if he was telling you what degree he earned in University, before listing off the other kinks he has. “Kink wise, I'm into spit play, impact play, anal play, and degradation.”

What the fuck have you just gotten yourself into? That's a lot of stuff he's into. And, well, you have no idea what any of that stuff is.

“Oh…” You trailed off.

“Hey, little dove, I know you're new to this so don't worry about all the things I like. We'll ease you into it; even find out if you like something I haven't mentioned.”

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding against his chest. A chest that looked like it was sculpted by Michelangelo.

You two cuddle together for a tad bit longer, just talking about little things. But then, you let out a yawn and the platinum blonde man knew it was time to send you on your way; back to your own room across the hall.

It was a good thing that your mother had a master suite downstairs, otherwise all of your moaning might've woken her up. Unknown to both you and Coryo, your little brother Darius (at the age of 13) had a bit of a drug problem. He developed it shortly after his father, Prometheus, died. So, since he was strung out in his bedroom down the hall, your moans didn't wake him up. Infact, a bomb could go off and it won't wake up Darius.

Coryo had no idea that marrying your mother, a week after your first encounter with him, in a scheme to get all of her money along with your younger brother's inheritance (In order to give you what he felt you rightfully deserve) was going to give him the family the reporters, media outlets, and political opponents and rivals needed to skew his golden boy image. To screw up his Senate campaign.

Looks like the only thing Snow's landing on top of is you. 

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3

[lightseoul]

you're losing me

synopsis. bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.

cw. gn!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (28 yrs old), some cussing

word count. 2.5k words

“Where is everybody?”

You ask as you look around the barren restaurant, which, on most days, is jampacked with high-profile customers. How Bakugou was able to get you both a table is beyond you.

“Don’t mind ‘em,” he says before dipping down to finish the rest of his soup. “They’re just a bunch of extras anyway.”

You merely hum in response.

A moment passes with the both of you finishing your appetizers when a question dawns on you.

“By the way,” you start, “what’s the occasion, Kats?”

At that, he frowns. “What, you’re saying I can’t treat my partner whenever I feel like it?”

You snort. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that we don’t usually opt for extremely overpriced restaurants.”

You gesture to your evening gown and his suit. “We don’t usually dress up either.”

“Yeah, well. Just go with it, okay?”

You stare at him for a beat before deciding to let it go.

“Okay.”

You’re down to the last bite of your dessert when Bakugou clears his throat. You look up, only to be met with the familiar expression of nervousness decorating his features.

It’s how he looked at you back when he first asked you out three years ago.

“You alright?” you ask.

He nods, “Peachy. Just need to tell you something.”

Almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace. You brace yourself for bad news.

“What is it?”

At your query, Bakugou suddenly stands up and circles your table, stopping right in front of you.

And before you could even comprehend what’s happening, he’s already on one knee, holding a small velvet box.

“Y/N.”

At the mention of your name, your heart doubles up its pace.

He continues, but your head is pulsing and your ears throbbing so loudly that you can barely make out the speech he’s currently giving you. You feel lightheaded, as well as the tears welling up in your eyes, clouding your vision.

He sounds uncharacteristically shy when he finally says, “Will you marry me?”

That’s the last thing you hear before you black out.

You’re met with a blinding white light when you come to.

You strain to sit up in order to look around, the movement causing Bakugou, who is on a stool beside your bed, to stir awake.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Take it easy.”

Robbed of all words, you nod, taking heed and slowly lifting yourself up into a seated position.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“The nearest hospital from the restaurant,” he explains. “You fainted.”

“Seriously?”

He nods, face stern. “Thankfully I was able to catch you before your head could hit the ground. We just need to run a few more tests before you get cleared for discharge.”

And with that, the elephant in the room remains as evident as ever.

“Look, Kats,” you start, “about earlier—”

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he cuts you off. “Come on, let’s get you ready for discharge.”

You barely catch him before he goes to work the next day.

Bakugou’s not a morning person—you found out about that a week into dating him when you noticed how curt his messages were in the mornings—yet he’s now up at 6:24 AM, darting in and out of the rooms in your shared apartment, getting ready for the day.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s rushing to leave.

“You’re awake,” you say lamely as you enter the living room.

He grunts in response, attention directed to the duffel bag he always brings to the office on patrol days.

You want to ask him why he’s up this early, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you say: “Did you pack your lunch already?”

“Yeah,” he gestures to his bag, “It’s in here.”

“Okay.”

You stand awkwardly by the door as you watch him zip his bag and adjust his civilian clothes that would be swapped in for his winter costume later.

He then walks up to you and presses a kiss on your forehead—so tentatively it makes you ache.

Since when did he get so hesitant with you?

“I’ll go then,” he announces.

And before you know it, the front door shuts, his perfume leaving a nostalgic fragrance in its trail.

Only then do you realize that I love you’s were not exchanged.

The days after are unremarkably the same.

He’s been getting up extra early so that by the time you wake up, he’s already on his way to the agency.

On top of that, he’s starting to work overtime now, too.

Lately, he’s been arriving home as late as almost midnight.

You try to wait up for him—you really do—but with your own work to get to the following mornings, you just couldn’t sustain that arrangement.

And so you rarely see him.

But to your relief, despite everything that’s gone wrong with Bakugou since the night he proposed, you still fall on the same bed at the end of the day.

Albeit his back is turned against you. Still, you’re grateful. There’s a certain comfort that blankets you whenever you’re near Bakugou, and that hasn’t changed one bit.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you mirror him, your back now facing his.

Which is why you don’t notice it until you hear a gasp.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at Bakugou, who’s now sitting upright, chest heaving.

Quickly, you rouse yourself, facing him. “What’s wrong?”

He inhales deeply as his eyes dart towards you, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.

“Nightmare,” he croaks.

At that, you grab his ice-cold hands, squeezing them in yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A beat passes before he reluctantly shakes his head. “It’s just the usual.”

The usual. Being held hostage by that monster, getting kidnapped, being responsible for All Might’s—

“It doesn’t matter if it’s new or not,” you retort, squeezing his hands again in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “I’m here to listen, alright?”

Bakugou hesitates for a second before nodding, a pained expression written across his face.

He starts to lean in closer, probably to drop his head at the crook of your neck like he usually does when plagued with nightmares, before hesitating and leaning back.

“Okay.”

The next morning, you wake up not only to an empty bed, but an empty house.

Still half asleep, you trudge your way toward the kitchen, where a bento box is sitting on the island. On top of it is a sticky note that reads:

Going out w the guys after shift. Don’t wait up.

Your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to see Bakugou for the day.

Still, maybe he needs this night out.

You wouldn’t want to spend time with the person who rejected you either.

With a heavy heart, you get ready for the day yourself.

Work is the least of your concerns this morning, but you figure you have to go. You could use some distraction to take your mind off your crumbling relationship.

You’re in your bed reading that non-fiction you’ve been putting off for a while now when your phone rings.

You reach for your phone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Kirishima’s caller ID.

Huh.

You press the green button after a few seconds of letting it ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N!” a cheery voice greets you. “This is Kirishima.”

“Hey, Ei,” you start, weirdly nervous. “How are you and the rest of the squad?”

“Actually, that’s why I called you. Can you pick Bakugou up? He’s so drunk.”

Your Katsuki? Drunk?

For some reason, the idea of talking to a drunk Bakugou, who also happens to be the bluntest version of himself, elicits an unpleasant feeling in your gut.

“Really?” you ask, voice small. “How much did he drink?”

“Not a lot, but the alcohol percentage of the ones he downed are pretty high.”

When you don’t respond for a while, he pipes up with: “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Kirishima sounds unsure when he asks, “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yes, Ei.” No, Ei. I inadvertently rejected his marriage proposal.

“Okay, that’s good to hear,” he starts. “It’s just that he barely mentioned you when he was still sober—which is a rare occurrence, if you only knew. He only started calling for you when he was three glasses in.”

Despite yourself, your stomach flips in delight. He’s still thinking about me, you think to yourself.

“Anyway, as I was saying, are you good to fetch him?”

“Yes,” you stand up and grab for your keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

You’re situating the car in your designated parking space when Bakugou finally stirs awake.

Once you’re parked, you turn off the engine before you reach over the console to unfasten his seatbelt. Yours follows shortly after.

You look at him, whose eyes are still closed.

“We’re here, Kats.”

At the sound of your voice, his eyes shoot open and he examines his environment, alarmed. Once he catches sight of you, though, he visibly relaxes.

Only to straighten up in his seat, stiff and unable to look you in the eye.

“You didn’t have to, uh,” he stammers, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. “Get me. You didn’t have to get me.”

You shoot him a small smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, eyes trained on your car’s windshield.

A moment passes before he speaks again.

“My mom made me do it, you know.”

You stare at his side profile. “Made you do what?”

“Propose to you.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head, almost in disagreement. “The old hag really wants me to get married. I told her we didn’t have to get married because we’re happy the way things are and that shit is just for formality. Told me I’d be missing out on you wearing a wedding dress.”

You snort, “That’s what convinced you to ask me?”

He grins. “Nah. I just realized I wanted to get married if it was to you.”

Before you can even react, Bakugou shifts in his seat, breaking eye contact.

“It was stupid of me, though.”

Your stomach drops in anticipatory dread. “Stupid of you to what?”

He chuckles, although he seems anything but happy. “Was stupid of me to think someone like you would say yes to someone like me.

“I—” he stutters, “I wouldn’t marry me either.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs, “Just…who the fuck do I think am, proposing to you? I was a horrible person who fucked things up so many times growing up. Maybe this is karma biting me back in the ass.”

“Katsuki.”

“You can do way be—”

“Katsuki!”

He jerks his head to face you, bewildered and eyes glassy.

You reach over the console to hold his scarred hand, staring him down.

“Look at me.”

He does so.

“You’re not that person anymore, alright?” You squeeze his hand, “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Under the intensity of your gaze, Bakugou can only nod in affirmation before you engulf him in your first hug in what feels like weeks.

“Come on,” you say when you finally part, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Bakugou sleeps like a baby by your side that night. Meanwhile, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

He thinks you don’t want to marry him.

Your heart aches at the very thought of him grappling with the most false of all statements.

You want to marry him, you really do, but all your fears suddenly rose to the surface and enveloped you the second he went on one knee.

And that’s what you’re planning to confess to him tonight.

You wait, wrapped in the thickest jacket you own, seated on the bench for Bakugou to come. You left him a note alongside his bento box earlier this morning—a note that says to meet you at the indicated address.

Lost in your thoughts and in your internal monologue, you startle when somebody sits next to you.

You look to your right, only to see Bakugou in his thickest jacket, a gray beanie covering his ash blonde locks, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Do you remember this place?” you ask, voice quiet.

He scoffs, “Of course I do, dumbass.”

At that, you chuckle. “This is where we had our first date.”

He grunts in agreement. He doesn’t say anything after that.

A few seconds pass before he finally pipes up with: “So why did you bring me here?”

Your heart’s pace quickens at the query.

You gulp, although your voice still ends up shaky. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

You shake your head, “You don’t understand.”

He chuckles, that same one that translates to anything but happiness. “I think I do. You don’t want to marry me, I get it.”

“No,” you say, voice louder. “I want to marry you.”

At your admission, Bakugou turns to look you in the eye. The hopeful expression on his face is staggering, you want to curl up into a ball and cry. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat, “I want to marry you.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Then why have you been acting like you don’t?”

At his question, you can’t help but clench your eyes closed. This is too much, you think to yourself, but you owe Bakugou the truth.

“I’m just scared, Kats. Truly. I—” you stammer, “I just can’t shake off the fear of losing you one day. And I know your capabilities and I know how hard you work. Just that—I don’t know. The fear of seeing you killed one day is paralyzing.”

Bakugou reaches out to you, and you let him wipe away the tears that are now falling down your cheeks.

“I’m scared, too,” he offers. “But I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, “I’m more scared of not being with you.”

At his confession, you can’t help but smile. “I think that’s how I feel, too.”

You rest your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, your hand in his. You stay like that for a few minutes before you pull away and turn to regard him again.

“Can we start over?” you ask, “I want to propose to you soon.”

Bakugou smirks, nothing but elation on his face. He takes your other hand and squeezes it.

“Not if I propose to you first.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

as always, reblogs, comments, and tags are appreciated <3

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: TW: miscarriage

Joel finds out you were pregnant and miscarried while he was on a work trip with Tommy.]

Angst fluff

Joel didn’t have to know you were pregnant in order to be hurt, the thought of you carrying his child was something he realized he wanted.

 “I’ll be home soon, honey. I love you” Joel’s voice on the other end of the phone causing a knot in your throat. 

“I love you too” you barely managed to say without a crack. Joel had no idea what had happened to you that morning. While Sarah was in school for the past seven hours you were in the hospital alone. Joel and Tommy had gone off to a work trip for the past two days and no one knew what was happening.

No one had even known you were pregnant. 

It had only been a week since you learned you were pregnant. In shock and unsure of how Joel would feel about it you stalled telling him not thinking this would happen. You wish you would’ve told him the second you knew, you wished so badly for him to be there with you at this moment, you knew he would’ve been. Thankful to be back home you decided that you wouldn’t tell Joel. With a sigh you stood up leaving the room only to see Sarah standing by the dining room table looking down at a paper. Immediately your heart sunk, she wasn’t suppose to be home for another hour, you hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Sarah-“ you walked up towards her swallowing nervously as she slowly looked back between you and the paper.

“Sarah, I can explain” you began nervously. You would’ve never left your discharge papers on the table when you walked in had you known she would be home early today. 

“You…you were pregnant?” The word still sending a shock through you.

“I…I-“ she finally looked up at you with confusion and shock herself. 

“I was but-“

“What happened?”

“Um, I…I had a miscarriage” the reality somehow setting in once those words were spoken aloud. Sarah’s light eyes widened, a bit of guilt not expecting to have barged into something so private.

“It’s ok, Sarah…I’m fine now-“

“It says you were bleeding heavily” she spoke with concern. 

“What did my dad say?” Once again your heart sinking, Sarah could tell by your reaction you hadn’t said a word to Joel.

“I..I haven’t had a chance-“

“What? Why not? You should call him, he’ll come home right away”

“I am ok, Sarah” you insisted slowly taking the papers from her hands. 

“But you should be resting and-“

“Please don’t call your father, he’ll be home tomorrow night. I don’t want to worry him.” 

Sarah sighed before noticing a hint of sadness in your eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her question making you look up. 

“There’s nothing to talk about but thank you, Sarah” quickly you turned away before she could spot the tears welling up in your eyes.

    Sarah went to her room with the house phone hoping you wouldn’t notice. Staring at her door hoping you wouldn’t come in she called her father despite what you wanted. 

“Hey dad, can you come home tonight?” 

“I wish I could babygirl but Tommy and I have another night of work here, everything alright?” He responded as he held the phone between his shoulder and ear while working. 

She stood silent which caught his attention. 

“Sarah, baby what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing I just think you should come home tonight” she finally expressed softly. 

“Have you spoken to y/n today?” 

“Not too long ago, why?” Joel stopped what he was doing grabbing the phone with his hand.

“What’s wrong with y/n?” 

“Don’t tell her I called you, just come home tonight please? It’s not for me, I’m fine just please, dad” 

“Alright, sweetheart. Don’t you worry, I’ll be there tonight” Sarah thanked him and hung up the phone not saying much of anything else. 

Joel stood in place concerned with what could be going on, concerned with what his daughter couldn’t say. 

“Alright, we’re leaving tonight” he turned to Tommy who raised a brow. 

“There’s no way we can finish this today-“

“Well it’s gonna have to wait, got an issue back at home” 

“What happened?” 

“Don’t know, but start packin’” Joel began picking up supplies as his mind wandered off. He knew it must’ve been important, Sarah never bothered him for anything while he was at work. 

   That evening you stood in the kitchen washing dishes, everything still felt surreal for you yet you still refused to say a word. Sarah came out of her room and noticed you slightly lose your balance stepping to the side, the amount of blood loss making you woozy. 

“You ok?” She asked making you stand up straight. 

“Yes” you lied, even with pain medication the doctor gave you the experience was anything but comfortable. That’s when you heard Joel’s truck pull up in the front making you quickly turn off the water. 

“Joel’s back?” You walked to the window as Sarah stood silently in the kitchen knowing why he returned. 

“He didn’t tell me he was coming-“ you turned to Sarah knowing she must’ve said something. 

“You called him didn’t you?” She stood silent not wanting you to get upset with her but she felt it was the right thing to do. 

“Sarah, I asked you not to call him-“

“He doesn’t know anything, I just asked him to come early. You shouldn’t be going through this alone” she explained but before you could respond Joel walked in through the front door. 

   At first he stood silent, he could tell he had just walked into something.

“Where’s Tommy?” You asked trying your best to seem as casual as you could. 

“He’ll be back in the mornin’” he set his bag down beside him before looking at Sarah whom stood beside you with her arms behind her back. 

“Sarah” he waited for her to speak, to give him something, but she remained quiet. 

“Look, I don’t know why Sarah called you, everything is fine-“

“Just tell him” Sarah insisted without looking up. 

“Tell me what?” He raised a brow as he walked towards you stopping just a foot away. Joel knew you very well, he knew something was wrong.

“Talk to me,honey” 

Looking down you began to fidget with your fingers, this wasn’t how you wanted to tell him.

“Joel, it’s nothing I just-“

“She was in the hospital” Sarah blurt out. 

“Hospital?” A deep crease forming between his brows, concern in his voice. 

“What happened? You alright?” He grabbed your face as if he was trying to see what was wrong but you quickly pushed his hands away.

“I am fine now I said” you walked towards the bedroom stepping inside as Joel quickly followed. 

“If she won’t say it then I will” Joel turned back to Sarah. A tiny piece of you wanting Sarah to get it over with but you knew it had to be you.

“No” you quickly yelled out before she could say another word with your back to them.

“I…I was pregnant, Joel. I was pregnant and I lost the baby,” you blurt out shocking them both. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t bare the image of his brown eyes at the news. Joel felt like he had been hit with a ton of bricks, how didn’t he notice? Having a baby wasn’t something either of you had spoken of but you always wanted to be a mother. 

Joel looked at Sarah and silently motioned for her to leave the room before he spoke. Sarah obliged and closed the door behind her just relieved that her father finally knew and that you weren’t alone. Joel turned back to you and could tell you were crying in silence. You could hear his footsteps slowly coming towards you before feeling his hands on your waist.

“C’mere” you took a deep breath before turning to him and burying your face in his chest. His arms wrapped around you as you for the first time allowed yourself to feel it.

Joel was silent hearing you cry..the thought of you alone in the hospital didn’t sit well with him. The thought of you being pregnant and him not knowing a thing…

You looked up at him and could tell he was lost in thought.

“Are you mad at me?”

Your question bringing his eyes quickly down to you.

“Of course not” he assured you.

“But I need you to understand one thing, darling” you looked up at him patiently to hear what he had to say.

“I can’t have you ever going through anything like this again and you not telling me, you understand?” he gently wiped your tears with his thumbs as you nodded and noticed his jaw tense up.

“How long did you know?”

“A week” you whispered seeing a hint of hurt in his eyes.

“I..I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know how you would feel. I was going to tell you when you came back…I didn’t expect this to happen” you began to cry again as his hands held your face.

“It’s alright, I’m here with you. Lets get you in bed” you took a deep breath and did as he said. Since coming home from the hospital you hadn’t exactly taken it slow the way the doctor asked. Laying in bed turning to your side you sighed as Joel covered you with a blanket.

“Where are you going?” You asked just as you felt the weight of his body on the bed beside you, his arm sliding over your waist pulling you perfectly against him.

“I’m right here, baby” he whispered in your ear. He kissed the side of your face holding you close as you for once felt some kind of calmness today.

After some time Joel made sure you were asleep and slowly slipped out of bed. Placing the blanket over you he kissed your forehead and walked out.

Sarah sat in the living room watching tv when she noticed her father come out of the room. He stood by the door rubbing the back of his neck, still taking in what he had just found out.

“She mad at me?” Sarah’s voice made Joel look up.

“No, sweetheart, she knows you were only worried” he walked towards her by the couch and sat down beside with her with a deep sigh.

“Did you guys plan this?” Sarah couldn’t help but ask. Joel silently shook his head leaning forward.

“I’m just as surprised as you were, kid”

“Well did you want a baby?”

Joel stood silent staring at the ground, a thought that hadn’t left his mind since you had expressed what happened. Yet, he didn’t know how to respond to that to his daughter, how would’ve Sarah felt?

“Look babygirl-“

“Dad, if you do it’s not gonna upset me. I like y/n, it’d be cool to have a sibling….” Sarah shrugged catching Joel off guard.

“I’m gonna go to bed” she stood up as she yawned before looking down at her father still lost in thought.

“I’m sorry about what happened” she unexpectedly leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek before walking away. Sarah’s reaction only causing Joel to understand more of what exactly he was feeling.

He was hurt.

Joel didn’t have to know you were pregnant in order to be hurt, the thought of you carrying his child was something he realized he wanted.

He couldn’t imagine what it was like sitting alone in the hospital. He knew he should’ve listened to himself when he heard the way you sounded over the phone, something hadn’t seemed right but you brushed it off as a hard day at work. Staring into space thinking about all that happened he was distracted by you coming out of the bedroom. Quickly he stood up rushing towards you to make sure you were ok.

“I’m here, baby. I just couldn’t sleep” he stopped inches away as you leaned back against the wall.

“It’s ok, I just needed some water”

“Could’ve called out to me, I don’t want you doing more than you should” he walked towards the kitchen getting you a glass.

“I can get myself a cup of water, Joel” you responded softly following him to the kitchen.

You could still see the concern in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” He asked looking up as he bought you the glass.

“I’m ok, just tired” you could feel him watching you as you took a sip, you could feel there was more he wanted to say…more he wanted to know.

“How far long were you?” He crossed his arms leaning against the counter.

“Nine weeks”

He didn’t respond, pressing his lips together as he looked deep into thought. He caught himself lost in that moment and realized you were looking down in your own world, obviously upset. Joel reached for you grabbing your hand and slowly pulled you close against him. He didn’t say another word and he didn’t have to, the touch of him was always enough to give you a sense of calmness…Joel always had a way with touch. At a moment like this it’s all you really needed, his arms around you assuring you he was right there with you.

[dadvans]

chick flick moments (bucktommy)

[i can’t stop thinking about tommy’s favorite movie being Love, Actually.]

Tommy hasn’t really talked or seen his family in roughly twenty years. His firefighting career has never been enough, if they were ever keeping tabs, to make up for his dishonorable discharge. And honestly, it’s been fine with him. His family has always been the suffocating kind of conservative and earning their love stopped being a hill he would choose to die on for longer than they’ve been radio silent.

Someone is keeping tabs though, or maybe the news of his recent heroics have a broader reach than he thought, because a few months after getting a medal for the cruise liner disaster response, someone reaches out. Tommy is hesitant to engage because he’s pretty happy without them in his life, but maybe at first it was a cousin or uncle, but that’s followed by one of his sisters trying to get into contact, followed by his mom, followed by his dad. And they’re persistent. Maybe they do want to make amends. And maybe he doesn’t need his blood family but there’s that tiniest part of him left that still wants that connection.

This is how he gets suckered into the most miserable Christmas dinner of his life. It’s not actually Christmas, it’s a few days before when the whole clan can get together, and it’s just as claustrophobic and awful as ever, every word spoken saturated in judgment and triple meanings that Tommy long since has lost the muscle to withstand.

Evan had wanted to come with him, said a whole bunch of shit about how they were PARTNERS, and how it could not be nearly as bad as his own parents were, but Tommy’s extended family holiday dinners are like a Los Angeles Miserable People convention crowded between the dining room and kitchen tables, and Evan’s still licking some wounds after surviving Gerrard’s brief yet nightmarish tenure back at the 118, maybe next time. This first round Tommy needs to do solo. So, Evan drops him off around the corner in the afternoon with a promise to come pick him up later that night.

Evan checks in with him pretty frequently, sending him stupid videos and things he finds on the internet, but Tommy gets hit immediately by some pretty barbed comments about being a grown man on his phone who doesn’t give a shit about the olive branch he’s being offered, so he stops checking so much.

Finally, halfway through too many glasses of wine and an early evening roast that make his memories of MREs seem like a pleasant dream, his phone starts going off pretty insistently. It’s Evan.

The doorbell is about to ring and i need you to be the one to answer it.

Well, that’s worrisome. He’s pretty close to the hallway though, so he types back: ok.

The doorbell rings. He shoves away from the table, waving everyone else back down. “I’ll get it.”

Evan is at the door. He has his phone out with a little plug-in speaker, and oh God, a stack of cue cards—

Unbelievable. “What are you doing.”

Evan enthusiastically hits play on his phone and as tinny Christmas music starts to play, holds up the first card: TELL THEM IT’S CAROLERS

He shakes his head. “Evan, even if they believed me, they would probably love that and would come check it out.”

“Tommy, who’s at the door?” His uncle calls from the dining room.

Tommy rolls his eyes and shouts back, “Planned Parenthood asking for donations!”

“Tell ‘em were eating dinner and to get the fuck out of here!”

Tommy looks at Evan pointedly, eyebrows raised, hands in pockets as if to say: well?

Evan flips to the next few cue cards:

I NEVER SAW THIS MOVIE BEFORE YOU MADE ME WATCH IT flip AND HONESTLY IT WASNT THAT GOOD flip BUT TO ME YOU ARE WORTH IT

“Evan,” Tommy says, softening.

AND I KNOW YOU THINK YOU ARE PROTECTING ME BY TELLING ME TO STAY HOME flip AND THOUGH WHATEVER IS GOING ON CAN’T BE AS BAD AS WATCHING LOVE, ACTUALLY flip OR HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS flip OR THE WEDDING PLANNER flip OR 50 FIRST DATES flip (I ACTUALLY LIKED FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL) flip I WANTED TO CHECK IN

Evan fumbles the cards to the hand holding his phone to pull something out of his back pocket, a piece of paper he gives Tommy, before flipping to the next card: I MADE THIS RANSOM NOTE IF YOU NEED TO BE KIDNAPPED flip AND WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE

It’s easily the stupidest grand gesture anyone’s ever directed at Tommy. He looks over the piece of paper, words threateningly put together cut out from Evan’s copies of Food & Wine and Men’s Health. He nods to himself, smiling, then looks up at Evan who is cheesing back.

“Yeah,” he says, feels for his phone and wallet in his pocket, before dropping the paper to the welcome mat and stepping outside, ready to escape back home to the only family he needs.

[tojivu]

Hey love, can i request the jjk men (or just Gojo tbh) taking care of their SO after giving birth? That would be suuuper sweet and thank you💙💙

father and husband ⋆ gojo satoru

gojo takes care of you after giving birth + other hcs

an. i'm not done with the long ass gojo fic so i'm finishing this draft first. sorry i do not know much about birth i am a teenager writing fanfiction after all...... my google search history might make my parents think i'm pregnant

cw. sfw, f!reader, not proofread, mentions of female anatomy, suggestive jokes at the end

playing. 17 by pink sweat$, ft. joshua and dk of seventeen.

"this is so unfair, 'toru."

the thick sheets the private hospital provided you with restrained you from sitting up. sunlight pours into the room through the spaces in the blinds — the ward is awfully quiet, much unlike your expectations.

"huh?"

you turn your head towards the leather chair situated next to your bed. it's a pale beige, clashing with the various blues this hospital decorates itself with — and with the white hair of the man you call your husband.

his hair falls messily onto the material. you furrow your eyebrows and wonder what has gotten into him; he's been much quieter than usual. this was not typical satoru behaviour.

your newborn baby was getting examined and you were told it would take a bit. your family wouldn't be coming down till tomorrow morning — something you didn't mind because you were so sure satoru, your loving husband, was just as prepared as you are for the birth.

"he's got your eyes," you mutter. the anxiety was really starting to kick in now; satoru was never this quiet. ever. your attempts at making conversation echo, and it's eerie how you could forget satoru was even here if you just closed your eyes. "satoru?"

you swear you see a thick bead of sweat roll down his temple. he sits cautiously, as if he is ready to spring up into action any moment now.

"i'm so scared, [name]." gojo's voice trembles and it bounces off the walls; you feel your heart skip a beat, only to pound harder the next.

SATORU starts bawling when he gets to hold his baby after the discharge. tears run down his face like two waterfalls, staining his sweatshirt. your baby looks at him with the most curious eyes, before shutting them and returning to a deep sleep.

he holds your son as if he's fragile glass, grip firm and careful not to slip — your fingers wipe the tears pooling at his waterline and gojo can't help but look at you with absolute adoration.

"please stop crying, 'toru," you smile up at the crybaby you call your husband. "you can't drive with tears in your eyes."

he tries to speak but nothing comes out. gojo's voice cracks before saying anything and he only manages to nod, handing the baby back to you.

SATORU who makes sure to help you with whatever you need, you just need to order him around. he's just as new to this parenting thing as you are, given you are the only woman he's ever loved — patience is needed with him as much as it's needed with you.

for example: satoru would never complain about waking up early in the morning to feed your son. he'd spring out of bed, nervous yet oddly confident. he was afraid of not being fatherly enough — so, this was a wonderful start. he was extremely elated when you asked him to do such a duty the night prior.

he slips out of the sheets and sees your peaceful face, lips parted and letting out small snores; gojo knew you needed the rest after all the sleepless nights.

"good morning," satoru's softly cooing at your son, careful arms scooping him up into his chest and out of the baby blue crib (that coincidentally matches both their eyes). your son only cries in response, much to satoru's displeasure.

your husband can't help but smile down at his child, before glancing over at you a few feet away; comfortably wrapped in your shared blanket.

"mama's asleep, so you're stuck with me." he mimics a pout, but words could not describe how happy he was. your son could only stare blankly at him, giggling when he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. "sorry, not sorry."

although the baby doesn't bond with your husband that well (yet), his determination is unwavering. he makes sure to be nearby the bedroom — but not too far away, in case something goes wrong — so his cries don't wake you.

all goes well until gojo changes your son's diaper an hour later and gets pee all over his hands, that he rushes into your bedroom for help.

"[name], baby," he bites his lip out of worry, opening the door with his dry hand and calling for you. "he peed on me—"

you give him a thank you kiss for trying anyway.

SATORU who rubs your shoulders for you, or really any other body part ever — he's a weirdly good masseuse. you often find yourself falling asleep on the couch as he kneads your pains away.

"baby," he whispers.

you three were on the couch, watching a movie in the late evening. your groans don't go unnoticed, and he knows you've been holding your baby for quite some time in hopes of calming him down.

"psst, baby." satoru repeats, the arm around your shoulder tapping the flesh of yours. "aren't you tired?"

"a little," you sigh. "he might wake up if i put him down."

"nah," satoru caresses your shoulder gently. "put him down for a minute. i'll help."

"help?"

"did you know i give really good massages?" satoru smirks, "your husband's crazy talented, i know."

you raise an eyebrow. you've never heard of gojo satoru massaging people — you're a little skeptical, but put down your son in the bassinet next to the couch nonetheless.

the ache in your shoulder and back were a little too intense to bear, now. satoru could tell with the way you were shifting around in your position every 5 minutes.

well, all your doubt washes away almost as fast as it came — you find yourself knocked out on the couch for the next hour, your head against satoru's shoulder.

SATORU who makes sure to give you extra kisses and extra hugs during this period of change.

he understands how difficult it must be for you — although maybe not to the full extent, considering he doesn't have a uterus — but he wants to try, and try he does.

whenever you have baby blues, he's always there. he kisses the tears off your cheeks, wiping them away with his thumb and whispering soft praises in your ears.

satoru couldn't express how grateful he is to you for giving him a son to love, to raise with you. he can only attempt to say it in words and through kisses, although he feels that may never be enough.

"i-i'm sorry for waking you, 'toru," you sniffle, even if your body language screams the opposite — your head is buried in satoru's chest and he has his hands running through your hair.

"shh, it's okay baby — don't be sorry," he holds your body close to him with his other hand, tracing circles onto the thin fabric of your clothes. "i'm here."

other times, you break down while trying to take care of your son — sometimes the cries get too loud and overwhelming, and everything you do just seems to make it worse.

satoru hears your crying and he immediately rushes over (if he wasn't already in the room with you), taking your son from your hands and trying to calm him down himself. he'll press a kiss onto your forehead, using his free hand to wipe your tears away — and he'll tell you to let him take over.

"shit," he swears under his breath, rushing into the room and seeing your tear-stained face; satoru instinctively reaches for the baby and you hand him over. "let me do it, okay?"

you nod, desperately wiping your face with the sleeves of your hoodie — before satoru uses his right hand to wipe them for you, his lips planted on your forehead.

"i'm s-sorry," you mutter, feeling a little better when you feel the skin of your husband on yours. "i don't know what to do—"

"it's okay, baby," he smiles, tucking stray hairs behind your ears as you continue to calm yourself down; your baby is still crying, and satoru looks oddly calm as opposed to you. "let me take over for a bit."

sure, he gets overwhelmed sometimes; but he needs to be your glue in case you can't pull yourself together. even if he's clueless too, he has to be strong for you — he can imagine the chaos that would ensue if he wasn't.

when he puts the baby to sleep half an hour later, he returns to the bedroom to find you in bed: wrapped in a blanket with tissues in your hands.

satoru feels his heart break at the sight.

he climbs into bed with you and his arms find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him; his warmth feels like the medicine you've been needing this entire time, and it's almost as if all your anxiety dissipates.

"you did good today," his cold breath tickles the back of your neck, and you feel his nose bump at your nape. "i'm proud of you."

"it was all you this time," you reply in a hushed voice, throat hurting at the tears you were trying to keep in. "i don't know what i'd do—"

"no," satoru interrupts you. "i couldn't feed the baby this morning, and you did it instead — remember?"

"i remember. you knocked over the formula."

"mhm," satoru hums, his fingers intertwining with yours. "and you did it in only 2 minutes. you're too good at this baby thing, [name]."

"you don't seem so scared anymore, satoru."

you hear a laugh escape from your husband's lips. "thanks to you," and he's pressing kisses along the outline of your shoulder and neck. "i'm the strongest, after all — what can i not do?"

"you're the cockiest, too," you snicker, and you only earn a dramatic gasp from the man behind you.

"don't talk about cock with me right now."

your jaw drops slightly, before you flip your body over to face satoru's direction: he has an annoying smirk painted on his face. "you are so disgusting, satoru."

"you know you love me—" and just as satoru's leaning in for a kiss on the lips, cries from the nursery room erupt.

"man."

writers block is real i think