#they both got crooked smiles and I love it

[moonstruckme]

One of my favorite little details about your poly!marauders works is how fit and strong James is, especially with how often, and how easily, he picks up or carries around y/n. Could I request a fic with the four of them but he gives the same treatment to his boys as well for whatever reason? Both sounding so exasperated but secretly loving every second of it because they love their sweet strong boy so much and love being babied as well? 🥺

Ahhh yes I can't believe I haven't done this more! It will definitely have to become more common in the poly marauders drabbles, thanks angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 670 words

By the time the credits roll, you’re all drifting off. Sirius’ eyelids are drooping where his head rests on your chest; Remus is snoring softly on James’ shoulder. You and James share a fond look as you turn off the telly. 

You sit in silence for a few moments, your sitting room dark but for the orange glow of streetlights coming in through the window. Unwilling to end the peaceful night. 

“Alright,” James sighs after a moment, worming his arms underneath Remus’ legs and torso. Remus begins to rouse as he does, but he’s in the air before he catches onto what’s happening, hoisted up against James’ chest. 

He makes a sleepy, demurring sound. 

“You’re alright,” James reassures him in a soft voice. Your heart thumps, smitten. “We’re only going to bed.” 

Remus mumbles something like, “You don’t have to…” 

James shushes him. Remus is easily mollified, letting his head settle in the crook of James’ neck as he’s carried down the hall. You watch them go with a warm, goopy feeling in your chest and a tickle of amusement at your own fascination with the way James’ arm looks hooked under your boyfriend’s knees. 

You coil a piece of Sirius’ hair around your finger absently. “That was rather fit,” you murmur to him, “wasn’t it?” 

You could swear Sirius’ breathing evens out only just then. His head weighs heavier on your chest. 

You give a soft laugh. “Fraud,” you whisper. 

Sirius begins to snore. 

You sigh. “James,” you call quietly. 

No answer. 

“James.”  

Heavy but considerate footsteps sound in the hall. “Hm?” he asks as he peers around the corner. His expression softens when he sees Sirius. “Oh.” 

“I’m trapped,” you say. 

“I can see that. Never fear, I’ll rescue you.” James stoops, lifting Sirius as he had Remus. Sirius puts on a very good show of acting groggy, nuzzling James’ shirt a little as he turns into his chest. 

James smiles. You see his thumb sweep over Sirius’ shoulder. “I’ve got you, love,” he promises. 

You snort, and he gives you a funny look, but you know you see Sirius’ lips twitch before he’s taken down the hall. 

You consider feigning sleep yourself for a handful of moments. It probably wouldn’t be very convincing, but you think James would likely play along anyway. In the end, he comes back to the sitting room without prompting, giving you a puzzled look. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” he asks. 

You wet your lips, shy but unable to contain your smile. “I am,” you admit. “I just don’t know if I have the energy to walk there all by myself.” 

James, for the indignant air he tries to put on, is unable to hide his smile either. “You want a lift too, do you?” 

“Please?” you ask sweetly. “Everyone else got one.” 

Your boyfriend—your sweetheart—doesn’t even feign reluctance. He kisses the top of your head as he bends to get his arms under you, and you twine yours around his neck happily. His chest is warm and reassuringly solid. If you weren’t already home, you would be now. 

“Are we tiring you out?” you ask, somewhat contritely, as he lifts you from the sofa. 

James makes a quiet pffting sound. “You lot? Angel, I bench two hundred.” 

“You know I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means that I could lift the three of you together, and it wouldn’t be as much as I lifted at the gym yesterday.” 

“Doesn’t that mean you’re already sore, though?” 

“Not so sore,” James kisses your hair, sounding amused, “that I can’t help my loves to bed. Alright? Don’t worry about me, lovie.” 

He places you in an empty spot at the end of the bed, rounding it to lie in his spot by the nightstand where he leaves his glasses each night. As you roll over, getting comfortable with your head on the pillow, you hear a murmur so quiet it might only be air. 

“You were right,” says Sirius. “That was very fit.”

[dinoandguitar]

Hey! Can I request reader x seungcheol where their child has just been born and he holds the baby for the first time?

"She's so small.."

New parents! ChoiSeungcheol x Afab!Reader

genre: Pure fluff! (Everyone gets a bit emotional)

warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, childbirth. The setting is in a hospital. Reader has just given birth.

A/N : Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy it :) My requests are open, please feel free to ask away 🫶🏾

Masterlist

The room was dim and quiet now, long after the nurses had left and the chaos had faded into silence. The only light came from the small lamp by the bed, casting a soft golden glow over the room, wrapping everything in a hush that felt sacred.

You were propped up against the pillows, exhaustion heavy in your limbs, but your eyes stayed open. You couldn’t look away from them. Seungcheol was sitting beside your bed, your newborn daughter cradled gently in his arms. And for the first time in his life, he was left speechless.

He hadn’t said a word when the nurse handed her over. He’d just stared,utterly still-as if even blinking would be too much of a distraction from the moment. Now, his thumb traced the edge of her cheek like he couldn’t believe she was real. His other hand cupped the back of her tiny head, his long fingers careful and reverent, like holding something impossibly fragile.

“Cheol,” you said softly.

He looked up at you, eyes glassy, his lips slightly parted. There was so much written on his face...shock, awe, fear, adoration...it made your heart ache. He let out a breathy laugh, breath shaking.

“She’s real,” he whispered, eyes flicking down to her again. “She’s really here. She’s ours.”

You nodded slowly, reaching over to gently stroke her little arm where it peeked from beneath the blanket. Seungcheol’s gaze followed your hand, then lingered on your fingers like he was still processing everything.

“She’s so small,” he breathed. “How… you just went through so much.. you gave her life.. How did you—�� His voice cracked, and he shook his head slightly. “You’re incredible.”

You smiled tiredly, and in that moment, something shifted in him. You saw the awe settle into something deeper. Something tender. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your head without shifting the baby in his arms.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured. “She’s got your nose, you know that?” He gave a soft laugh. “And your stubborn little chin.”

“She has your eyes,” you whispered, and he paused. You watched the way he blinked slowly, as if that thought alone made his heart burst.

His voice dropped even softer. “God… I didn’t know I could feel this much...” His thumb brushed over her tiny knuckles. “She only an hour old yet and I’d give her the world. I’d tear it apart if she ever needed me to.”

You watched him gently lower his head, pressing the softest kiss to her forehead. “You hear that, baby girl?” he whispered against her skin. “You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger already.”

She stirred slightly in his arms, letting out the tiniest sound, and Seungcheol stilled completely. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared...watching her nose wrinkle, her lips part slightly, her tiny brows twitch in sleep.

“I didn’t know I could love someone this fast,” he said, looking up at you again. “But the second I saw her… the second she cried… I was gone. She’s mine. She’s ours.”

He looked down at her again, his eyes glistening. “And you...you gave her to me. I don’t even have words, baby. You-you’re everything.”

You reached for his hand, wrapping your fingers through his gently. He squeezed yours, shifting the baby carefully so he could hold both of you, your hand, and your daughter...like they were two pieces of the same miracle.

“She’s going to love you,” you whispered, heart heavy with emotion. “So much.”

He looked down at your little girl, who was now breathing softly, safely tucked into the crook of his arm. His voice was almost inaudible. “I already love her more than anything. But I don’t think she’ll ever know how much I love you for giving her to me.”

A tear slipped down his cheek as he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then one to your temple, then your lips—soft, slow, full of gratitude and reverence.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Thank you. For this life. For her. For us.”

And as your daughter stirred again in his arms, curling her tiny hand instinctively against his chest, you knew there would never be a moment quite like this again.

But that was okay—because it would live inside both of you, forever.

A/N : Hope you all liked it.. My requests are open :)

[pensthoughts]

call me crazy… and this just came to me recklessly… but i KNOW you would write the most insane, angsty and somehow fluffy, van palmer fic based on “pushing it down and praying” by lizzy mcalpine… van is just so that song and i’d love to see what you would do… ty!

pushing it down and praying | v.p

a/n: okay so i saw this request and was like omg why didn't i think of that because i seriously love that song and it matches van so perfectly! hope you enjoy <3 pairing: van palmer x f!reder summary: (au where no crash happened) you've spent years pushing it down—what you feel for van, what you're afraid to want. then one night, everything unravels in your bedroom. and suddenly pretending isn't so easy anymore. word count: 2.5k contains: angst, smut, fluff, alcohol

you were in bed, naked. and your boyfriend was over you as you stared at the ceiling.

he kissed your neck. said something about how much he missed you this week. you were always at soccer, and when you weren't at soccer you were hanging out with van. you murmured something back, a vague sound of agreement.

but your eyes stayed fixed on the water stain in the corner of his bedroom ceiling. you watched it like it meant something.

you knew a lot about him. you knew how he liked his eggs and his favorite baseball team. you knew he was sweet, and that your parents liked him, and that he always offered you his jacket when it got cold.

but he didn't make you feel electric. he didn't make your stomach twist just by walking into a room.

he wasn't van.

you and van had been friends since freshman year. soccer brought you together—late bus rides and bruised knees, the way she always made fun of your shoelaces and then tied them for you anyway. somewhere in the middle of all that, she became your favorite person. and then, without warning, something more.

it was easier not to name it.

easier to keep dating the boy who liked you and didn't ask questions.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

friday after practice, you were supposed to meet him. he said that he'd drive you to that diner you liked, grab food and then drop you off at home so you could get ready for jackie's party. he'd even told you that he'd wait outside the field.

"you better not flake," he's said with a half-smile.

"i won't," you'd replied.

but when practice ended, and you jogged off the field, still tying your hair up, it wasn't your boyfriend you saw.

it was van—leaning against her car, eating a granola bar, her hair messy but still cute. she raised her eyebrows when she she saw you.

"you need a ride?" she asked. "i got a fresh mixtape and a slurpee craving."

you froze. your cleats scuffed the pavement.

"my boyfriend's supposed to pick me up," you said slowly.

van made a face like, of course he is. "guess i'll just take my superior taste in music elsewhere, then."

she turned to go, keys jangling in her hand.

and you—before you even thought about it—called after her. "wait."

she looked over her shoulder.

you hesitated, then said, "can we just... go for a little bit?"

a beat passed. then she smiled—slow and crooked. "get in, loser."

the 7-eleven parking lot was mostly empty. you sat on the hood of her car, passing a bag of chips back and forth. she was ranting about a song she hated on the radio.

you didn't talk about the fact that you ditched your boyfriend. she didn't ask.

but your knee kept bumping against hers. and neither of you moved.

"you coming to jackie's tonight?" she asked

"i guess," you said, trying to sound casual

"you guessing because you're playing it cool, or because lover boy's dragging you there?"

you rolled your eyes. "he's not dragging me."

van smirked. "sure."

your fingers curled tight around your unfinished slurpee, "are you going?"

she shrugged. "only if you are."

and that was the problem. the way she said things like that, offhand, careless, but it never felt like nothing.

it felt like everything.

in her car, she had music playing low, some old tracks you both liked, and the windows cracked just enough to let in the spring air. she drummed the steering wheel as you passed through your neighborhood.

"you wanna hang at my place for a bit before you get ready?" she asked. "i still owe you a rematch. foosball."

you bit your lip. "i should go home. gotta figure out what to wear."

van shrugged. "i could help. i have amazing taste."

you rolled your eyes, but you still said, "fine, but only because i don't trust jackie to not wear the same thing as me."

you pretended that was the reason. but it wasn't.

in your room, van flopped onto your bed like she owned it, grinning at the pile of clothes on your floor.

"this what fashion looks like?" she teased.

you shot her a look, rifling through your closet. "help me pick something or shut up."

she stood and walked over, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her behind you. her fingers brushed past yours to pull out a black dress.

"this," she said. "you look good in black."

you turned. her eyes were already on you.

the air between you shifted.

you could've kissed her. you wanted to. your heart was hammering and your throat felt tight and her mouth was right there, soft and parted, like she was waiting for something.

you swallowed it all down.

"we shouldn't," you whispered, eyes flickering from her lips to her eyes

van didn't step back.

she didn't say anything either—just watched you, gaze heavy and unreadable, like she was trying to figure out if she should let you go or pull you in.

and when you didn't move, when your breath caught just slightly, when your fingers stayed tangled in the hem of your shirt instead of pushing her away; she closed the space.

her hands were careful as they found your waist, thumbs slipping just beneath your t-shirt. her mouth brushed yours like a question—one she'd already asked a thousand different ways in a thousand quierter moments. you answered her without words.

the kiss started tentative. but it didn't stay that way.

you clutched at her shirt, pulled her closer, and suddenly everything you've been holding back cracked wide open. van kissed you like she was starving. like she'd been holding her breath for years. and you let her.

clothes dissapeared in pieces. her mouth didn't leave yours until she had to—only when she knelt at the edge of your bed; her hands gripping your thighs like she was afraid you'd vanish if she let go.

"you sure?" she asked, voice low, wrecked.

your answer was a nod, breathless. "please."

van lowered her head, kissing the inside of your thigh first—slow, like she was learning you with her mouth. and when her tongue found you, warm and right, your whole body went taut.

she moved carefully at first. gentle licks. soft circles. testing what made you gasp, what made your hips rise off the bed. but once she found your rhythm, she didn't let up. her tongue pressed deeper, more deliberate now, and the heat in your gut coiled tight and fast.

you moaned—quiet, shaky—and van hummed against you like she liked the sound.

one of your hands tangled in her hair, the other fisting your sheets. your thighs trembled. she didn't stop. her grip on your hips tightened as her mouth worked you over, unrelenting, like she was trying to rewrite something in your bones.

it was too much. it wasn't enough. you whispered her name, broken and desperate, and that was what did it—van's eyes flicked up, locked on yours, and you came undone under her mouth, under her hands, under her everything.

you collapsed back against your pillows, heart pounding in your ears. van pressed a kiss to your hip, then rested her head against you like it was where she belonged.

neither of you spoke. you stayed tangled in each other for a few long, quiet minutes.

van's thumb traced lazy circles on your hip, her head resting just below your collarbone. her breath had evened out, but yours hadn't. not really.

you wanted to stay like this forever. you couldn't.

you cleared your throat softly. "you probably have to go."

van didn't move at first. just blinked, slow, against your skin. "oh. yeah. the party."

you nodded, not meeting her eyes as you sat up, pulling the edge of your comforter over your chest like it made a difference. "my boyfriend's supposed to pick me up soon anyway."

the silence that followed was thick.

van swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her shirt off the floor. "right. of course."

you stood too, avoiding her gaze as you picked your clothes up one by one, like if you moved fast enough, you could pretend none of this happened.

but it did.

you felt it in every inch of you.

van paused at your doorway, one hand braced on the frame. she looked back once, her expression unreadable. "i'll see you tonight?"

you hesitated. "yeah."

she gave you a small smile. not her real one. not the one that lit up her whole face. just the one she wore when she was pretending to be okay.

and then she was gone.

you sat on the edge of your bed, still half-naked, staring at the closed door like it might open again. like she might change her mind and come back.

but she didn't.

you exhaled, long and shaky, then reached for the black dress van had picked out for you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

jackie's house was already packed when you arrived. the music was loud enough to make the walls pulse. shauna pressed a red cup into your hand. mari grabbed your wrist and dragged you into the kitchen. jackie, the perfect host, was fluttering throughout the rooms making sure to greet everyone. you saw lottie sitting on the couch, laughing with laura lee, looking like a daydream.

and then van walked in.

you wouldn't be lying if you said you felt it before you saw her—that electric shift, the twist in your chest. her jacket was tied around her waist and she was talking to taissa. you couldn't hear the words, just the way van's face lit up when she laughed.

your boyfriend's arm slipped around your waist. you didn't lean away, but you also didn't hear whatever he was saying. not really.

"hey, did you hear me?" your boyfriend asked.

you blinked. "what?"

"i said i'm gonna grab drinks. you want one?"

you nodded, "sure."

when he disappeared into the kitchen, you started toward van. you didn't plan it. your feet just moved.

but before you could reach her, she turned—and someone pulled her in to dance.

you stopped short. just watched.

she didn't even see you.

the backyard was quieter. you stepped out with a red solo cup you weren't drinking from and sat on the steps. your heart was thudding in your throat and you couldn't name why.

until she sat down next to you.

van's jacket brushed your arm. "you ghosting me already?"

you glanced at her. "thought you were busy dancing."

her eyebrows lifted. "were you watching me?"

you didn't answer.

she took the cup from your hands and drank from it without asking.

"i saw you with him when i walked in," she said.

you stared at the grass. "he's my boyfriend."

van was quiet for a long beat.

then: "right. forgot. that makes everything fine."

you looked at her. "don't."

"no, seriously," she said, her words slurring slightly. "we fucked a few hours ago and now you're back to playing house. it's seriously impressive."

you flinched. "van—"

she laughed, bitter and sharp. "what? you thought i'd forget? that i'd pretend nothing happened because you're pretending too?"

"i'm not—" you started.

"yes, you are," she snapped. "you do this every time. you pull me in, and then you shove me back like it didn't matter."

"of course it mattered," you said. your voice cracked. "you think that didn't mean everything to me?"

van looked at you, really looked. "then say it."

you couldn't.

so she stood. her fingers were shaking a little as she brushed them through her hair.

"i'm trying," you said. your voice cracked. "i'm trying to do the right thing. it's just confusing"

van's face twisted. "then why does it feel like you're lying every time you touch him?"

the words hit like a slap. because they were true. and she knew it. and so did you.

"you're not confused," she said. "you're scared. and i get it. but i can't keep being the thing you hide."

"i didn't mean for it to go this far," you whispered.

van looked at you. "yeah," she whispered. "me neither."

she turned to go, but paused. her voice was quiet when she said, "why do you keep doing this? pushing it down like you're praying it'll just disappear. do you even want it to?"

you didn't have an answer. not one you were brave enough to say.

and then she was gone.

later, when the party spilled back inside and the music got louder, you stood in the doorway and watched van laugh with shauna, beer in her hand, head thrown back like nothing had ever happened.

"you okay?" your boyfriend asked, noticing your bad mood

you nodded.

you weren't.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

that night, when he dropped you off, you kissed him goodbye and said "i'll call you," knowing you wouldn't.

then you climbed into your bed, the ceiling dark above you, the silence heavier than usual.

van's voice echoed in your head.

"you're not confused. you're scared."

you closed your eyes. but van's face was still there.

you tried to sleep. you flipped onto your side, then your stomach, then your back again. nothing helped.

you stared at the ceiling again. but now all you could think about was the way van had looked at you when she said, "do you even want it to go away?"

you didn't.

so you got up. pulled a sweatshirt over your pajama top, sat by your baywindow, and just...waited.

for what? you weren't sure. maybe a sign of some sort.

and then, just like some cosmic joke or a small miracle, you saw it.

headlights. her car pulling up to the curb, engine cutting off.

a few seconds later, a pebble tapped against your window. you were alredy opening it.

she looked up at you from below, jacket zipped halfway, hair a little windblown. "you gonna let me in or just keep staring like some tragic diary entry?"

you smiled before you could stop it. "come up."

she climbed the lattice by your window like it wasn't her first time, slipping in with the same ease she always did. but tonight felt different.

heavier and lighter all at once.

you stood across from her in the dark then finally said it.

"i don't want to keep pretending."

van's shoulders softened. "good. 'cause i'm really bad at pretending."

you walked to her, slow. "i'm scared."

"me too," she whispered.

she reached for you gently—just fingertips at first. then a full touch. her hands resting at your waist, like she was checking to make sure you were real.

and you leaned in. no one had to make the first move. you met in the middle. quiet and warm and finally, finally honest.

outside, the streetlights buzzed softly.

inside, you fell asleep with her breath on your neck.

and for the first time in forever, you didn't feel like you had to run from it.

[spicycinnabun]

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

big alphas don't cry + tommy pov + h/c - tw for ref'd verbal and physical abuse

❤️‍🩹

Alphas don’t cry. That had been ingrained in Tommy since puphood.

A toxic rule, yet one he had never quite managed to unfollow.

Everything had to be taken on the chin. Crying had been punished with reprimands roared in the Alpha voice and, if that hadn’t worked, a swift fist to a vulnerable body part. The violence hadn’t stopped the tears from falling initially, but with repetition, it had eventually succeeded in muting him. Tommy had learned to force it all back before it spilled over and made a mess of everything.

The problem was that as he moved into adulthood and faced one painful life experience after another, it became harder to retain his emotional training. Chips evolved into cracks until it felt like he was constantly on the cusp of breaking. 

Naturally, he tried to avoid situations that would hurt him—and naturally, the universe disregarded what he wanted and threw those situations at him while he tucked tail and ran, ran, ran. It got so bad that he started flying instead of running, going up to escape it all.

Tommy had long since severed his relationship with his father, but that voice still tyrannized Tommy’s head on bad days. Telling him he needed to hide himself. He would lose all respect if anyone saw him fall apart. He would be a joke to other Alphas and repulsive to omegas. He would have no chance of having what he wanted most: a close unit of friends, a mate, a family.

So it was unfortunate that Evan, the omega Tommy adored who looked at Tommy with literal stars in his eyes sometimes, was the first person to see him cry in nearly two decades.

Not just a single, glistening tear type of cry, either. No, this was an ugly, face-crumpling cry that belonged to someone weaker. It didn’t belong to big, strong, Alpha Firefighter Pilot Kinard.

The most humiliating part? 

The only thing that had triggered it was Evan kindly asking him, “How was your day?”

He could’ve just sighed, said fucking horrible, honestly, and been done with it.

Instead? His feelings—crash!—all over the floor.

“Um,” he’d said, and that was as far as he’d gotten.

Evan looked startled, immediately grabbing Tommy’s hand and stepping forward when Tommy tried to turn away from him and shield himself. The room flooded with his sweet, concerned scent. “Oh no—honey, hey. Hey.” The endearment didn’t help stem the flow. It made it worse. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I’m leaking?” Tommy joked, mid-sob. God. He was making a scene. His chest was tight, and his breath was starting to heave ridiculously. “I don’t—know. I c-can’t—s-stop—”

He wanted to flee.

But Evan made a soft sound, framing Tommy’s face with both hands. They were warm. Smelled like cinnamon sugar. Tommy could only see a very blurry version of him. Was he revolted? “Oh,” Evan breathed. “C’mere, c’mere.”

He wrapped his arms around Tommy. When he squeezed, Tommy shook like a giant leaf. In shock. And, well, the whole crying thing was doing it. He wasn’t used to being comforted when he lost control.

“The leak?” Evan rubbed his back. “I can fix that.”

The only reason Tommy understood that reference was because of Evan. Damn millennial. It broke his tension as he laughed wetly, burying his chin in the crook of Evan’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

Tommy thought Evan would pull away after that, but he didn’t. Tommy didn’t want him to let go. The low rumble of Evan’s omega’s purr started emanating from his throat, and Tommy—big, strong, Alpha Firefighter Pilot Kinard—sank further, deeper, into his arms. 

“Don’t need good luck, Alpha.” Evan’s fingers gently scritched the nape of his neck, up and down. Soothing Tommy into the rhythm. “Just some good TLC.” 

Such a tender, loving, caring omega. How anyone had let him go, Tommy had no idea.

“Do you want to talk about it?“ Evan asked eventually. “And do I need to kill anyone? Because I will not hesitate. Just give me the hit list.”

Tommy smiled a bit. Evan sounded entirely serious. “I don’t want my omega locked away in prison. And no… don’t think so. Not yet.” He swallowed past another lump in his throat. Sniffled. “Maybe later.”

“Of course.” Evan kissed the scent gland behind his ear, whisper-soft. “Whenever you’re ready.”

❤️‍🩹

tag list: @chococara25 @lemon-drop151 @bidisasterevankinard @cannibalhellhound @theallyandhisbeast @loulou-land @harmonic-intervention @manifestingchaoticvibes @notacyborg @tedious-waffle @ginny-lala @figuringitoutaloud @monstertrucksactually @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @know1udno @styxhuntress @all-the-feels @espressopatronum454 @alejaan91 @station18908 @the-omniscient-narrator

[sturnsblogs]

FIRST ULTRASOUND

Teacher!Matt X Milf!Reader

—

You’d never admit it out loud, but you were nervous. Like, sick to your stomach even without the morning sickness kind of nervous. Not because something was wrong, no. But because this made everything real.

The first ultrasound.

Matt had been practically buzzing since the moment you got in the car. He held your hand the entire ride there, even leaned over at a red light to press a kiss to the back of it. “You ready to see our baby?” he whispered, all soft and warm.

“I’m ready,” you said… but you weren’t. Not really. Your fingers squeezed his a little tighter.

You were lying back on the little exam table now, shirt pulled up, waistband of your leggings nudged down a bit. Cold gel hit your stomach and you flinched, making Matt laugh from where he stood beside you. “That bad?”

“Freezing,” you muttered, but you smiled.

The ultrasound tech dimmed the lights, moving the wand gently across your skin, eyes flicking to the screen.

And then you heard it.

The heartbeat.

Matt let out the tiniest breath, like it’d been punched out of him. His hand found yours again, fingers gripping tighter. “That’s our baby,” he whispered.

You blinked fast, throat tightening. “That’s really our baby.”

The tech clicked around the screen, then hummed quietly to herself. “Everything looks great. Good heartbeat, strong size…”

But then she paused.

Her brow furrowed slightly. You watched her eyes track something across the screen.

Matt caught it too. “What’s that?” he asked softly, peering closer.

She smiled. “Give me a moment… just checking something.”

You and Matt exchanged a look—his nervous, yours almost panicked.

The tech turned the monitor a bit more toward you. “I don’t want to say anything definitive just yet… but I’m seeing what might be a second sac.”

Your eyes widened. “A what?”

“A second… as in…” Matt’s voice cracked.

“Twins?” you said at the same time.

The tech gave a small nod. “Possibly. It’s early, and sometimes these things change as the pregnancy progresses, but it’s definitely something we’ll be watching closely.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god…”

Matt looked like he’d seen a ghost. A very happy, overwhelmed ghost. “You’re telling me I might’ve gotten you pregnant with two kids?”

You smacked his shoulder lightly. “You did this!”

He leaned down, kissing your temple with a crooked grin. “Damn right I did.”

You both looked back at the screen, heartbeats echoing softly in the room. Two tiny flickers. Two possible little lives.

“I’m gonna need a bigger car,” Matt whispered, eyes never leaving the monitor.

You laughed through a tear. “We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

And right there, with your hand in his, the love of your life looking at you like you’d just handed him the whole universe, you knew… no matter how many heartbeats were on that screen, you were going to be just fine.

—

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset-deactivate @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemfemme @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03

[itsmerelliwellie]

Love Language | N. Seba x Reader

---

For this pretty over here

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7.) “I’m not good with words… so I bought your favorite snack.”

Prompts

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Warning(s): Nothing much...

Important Warning: NOT REALLY BETA READ

---

Seba wasn't great with words.

Never had been.

He could rewire an explosive device with a bent screwdriver and a chewing gum wrapper, and hack into security systems with a potato if you dared him. But stringing together a sentence that sounded even remotely human when it involved feelings? Yeah. No. That was well outside his skillset.

So instead, he was standing outside your dorm at 11:47 p.m., with a grocery bag in hand, half a hoodie sleeve tucked into his palm, and a stomach full of static.

Inside the bag?

Your favorite snack.

Not just one, but five different varieties of it, because he couldn’t remember which one you liked best when you talked about it last week, so he just bought all of them like an idiot.

He could’ve messaged you. Texted. Called. Hell, he could’ve waited until morning like a normal person.

But no. You’d looked off today. Tired. Distracted. That smile of yours hadn’t quite reached your eyes. And something about that had sat wrong with him all night. It itched under his skin like a signal he couldn’t decrypt. So here he was, heart in his throat and groceries in hand, trying to help the only way he knew how.

With quiet, awkward, absolutely wordless care.

You opened the door in a hoodie that didn’t belong to you. It was his, and that realization nearly short-circuited him. Hair tousled. Eyes soft with confusion and warmth.

“Seba?”

“I—uh.” He held up the bag like a peace offering. “You mentioned this snack thing once. I remembered.”

You blinked. Looked at the bag. Looked back at him.

“Are you... okay?”

“I’m not good with words,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the scuff mark on your doorframe. “So I brought this instead.”

There was a pause. A long one.

“You’re such a dork.”

He flinched.

But then you smiled.

God help him, you smiled. A real one. Sleepy and crooked and fond. You reached for the bag and tugged him inside with your free hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was having a crap day,” you admitted as you set the bag down. “Didn’t really want to be around people. But... I always want to see you.”

His ears went red. Like immediate red.

You tilted your head at him, eyes glinting with mischief. “You really bought five different kinds, huh?”

“I panicked.”

“You overachiever.”

“Shut up.”

You didn’t. You stepped closer instead, close enough for Seba to catch the subtle citrusy warmth of your shampoo, close enough that your fingers brushed his wrist.

“You do this thing,” you said, tone softer now. “Where you always show up when I don’t even realize I need you to. It’s like—like you see right through me. And you don’t say anything about it. You just act. You just show up.”

Seba opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed.

His throat felt like it had caught fire.

You were looking at him too directly. As if you knew. As if you’d always known, and were just waiting for him to figure out how to catch up.

“Sometimes,” you continued, voice low, “I wish you’d say what I think you’re trying to. Out loud.”

Seba’s heart stuttered in his chest.

He wanted to. God, did he want to. But every word that clawed its way up his throat got caught in a tangle of nerves and static. So instead, he reached up—trembling—and cupped your cheek.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

So he leaned in.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t careful. Wasn’t calculated. It was messy and warm and real. The kind of kiss that short-circuited logic and replaced it with heartbeats and stuttering breath and the faint, helpless noise you made when you gripped the front of his shirt like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

You pulled him closer.

Seba nearly lost his balance.

You both half-stumbled into the couch, laughing into each other’s mouths as you fell into the cushions, limbs tangling and lips barely parting. Your hands slid under his hoodie, palms flat against his spine, and he gasped into the kiss—like you’d flipped a switch he didn’t know he had.

“I brought snacks,” he muttered against your mouth, breathless.

“What a sweetheart.”

Seba groaned. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He buried his face in your neck. “No. I really, really don’t.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair. Tagged gently.

“You can say it,” you whispered.

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time. More promise than urgency. More comfort than chaos.

Seba had kissed you.

You had kissed him back.

And now you were both tangled together on your couch, limbs interwoven like the world outside didn’t exist anymore. There were half-empty snack wrappers on the table and his hoodie swallowed your frame, sleeves bunched around your hands as you curled into his side like you belonged there.

You’d always belonged there.

Your fingers were tracing lazy circles on his chest, the touch light and soothing, like you were trying to calm down his racing heart without mentioning it.

He was trying not to panic.

You were warm. So warm. Not just your skin, but the way you leaned into him like he was safe. The way you kept looking up at him, soft and sleepy-eyed, with a kind of quiet affection that completely unraveled him.

“I should probably go,” he murmured, even as his arm tightened around your waist.

“Liar.”

You shifted against him and pressed a quick kiss to his collarbone, the fabric of your hoodie slipping slightly to expose your shoulder. He didn’t even try to hide the shiver that ran down his spine.

“I’m not good at this,” Seba admitted, voice barely audible.

“I know.” You looked up again, voice a little teasing, a little too tender. “But you’re trying. That counts.”

He looked away. Your living room was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. Everything was quiet. Still. Like the universe had decided to give him a moment of peace in the middle of the noise.

“Why are you being so gentle with me?” he asked, almost accidentally. “You always pick fights with people at school. You’ve got bruises every other day, and yet… you’re soft with me.”

You smiled slowly. “Because I don’t need to fight you to be seen.”

Seba’s breath caught.

“And,” you added, nuzzling closer, “Also probably because I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I’m not gonna hurt you just to prove I feel something.”

Your words hit like a sucker punch.

Seba didn’t speak for a long moment. He just looked down at you like you were something he wasn’t supposed to touch. Scared that if he breathed too hard, the moment would vanish.

You leaned up and kissed him again. Filled with honesty. The kind that made his hands shake as they slid up your back, bunching the hoodie as if to anchor himself to this moment. To you.

You climbed onto his lap slowly, letting your thighs settle on either side of him. It felt natural. Comforting.

Because Seba didn’t stop you.

Didn’t want to.

His hands found your hips. Hesitant. Reverent.

You looked at him like you knew. Like you saw every inch of the mess he was—and wanted him anyway.

“Seba,” you whispered, breath fanning against his cheek, “it’s okay to want this.”

He swallowed hard. “I do.”

Your fingers ran through his hair smoothly while humming.

You both eventually collapsed back onto the couch again—chests pressed together, bodies warm and limbs entangled, your face buried in his neck as his hand found the rhythm of your spine.

After a while, your breathing slowed. You started to drift.

Seba didn’t move.

He just held you, his thumb brushing your side.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel broken for not knowing how to say the right words.

Because this?

This was the right language.

And somehow, you’d always understood it.

---

A/N: Wrote this while eating MY fave snack that I bought MYSELF becaue I am SINGLE

---

[swifty-fox]

The new love song update was just gorgeous, I love them being so soft with each other 💕

wahh I am so glad!! the cuteness continues next chapter:

“Not listenin’ are you?” Gale breaks through John’s thinking, addressing him directly for the first time in a while. 

John blinks, stretching and scratching at his belly before returning it to resting there, his feet just brushing Gale’s thigh as they lounge. There’s sweat on both their faces on the sides turned to the fire. Gale’s eyes are orange in the firelight, move curved sideways in a crooked smile, looking at John fond and quiet. He’s got John’s lighter in his hand, flicking the cap slowly as he savors the first of the last six cigarettes in the pack. 

“No,” John says honestly, “was busy goin’ for a wander in my head.” 

“Sorry to bore you.”

“Never,” John winks, “I’m just a hound is all, I see a rabbit I gotta chase it.” 

“Oh yeah, and what did that old jackrabbit look like this time?”

“Acorns.”

Gale smiles at him, head tilting, elegant chin in elegant hand. John doesn’t know how he never noticed the beauty of Gale before this. It feels like it’s all he can see now. He won’t tell Gale, doesn’t want him to hide himself away, duck his head, deny John the sight of his smile. He gestures instead, laying the floor once again.

“I’m listening now,” John says, “keep going.” 

“I could have finished,” Gale muses. “You wouldn’t know, on account a’ you not listening.” 

“Oh forgive me, dear. No room in the tent for a couch to sleep on.” 

Lips pursing playfully at him, Gale adds another log to the fire– chopped by the both of them in turns.

[starsoverbrooklyn]

just the headline, doll: "i've loved you longer than i should've." (#4/30) starring... Asshole/Toxic/Ex/HonestlyIDKwhat!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader storm ahead, sweetheart: *waves hand at the drabble* innn the general vicinity of angst. curse words. bucky being immature. a southernish accent instead of 1950s brooklyn?(shh..don't squint too hard at it) inked just for you: 754 a word from yours truly: man, to resist the urge to dive into history and then reminding yourself 'uh, ma'am...you're writing a drabble'. i think i'm getting the hang of getting where i want in a short amount of time (something i have always struggled with), but oooh, wrapping it up... different story. hope you enjoy! ♡⋆｡°✩ -rrinnie

“Hey, kiddo, ‘preciate you swingin’ by…”

The pub owner’s voice reaches you the moment you step inside, warm and familiar. The space is just as you remember—cozy, worn-in—but conspicuously quiet, missing the usual hum of laughter and music that used to breathe life into the old walls. “Figured if anyone could talk some sense into ‘im, it’d be you.”

You answer with a graceful smile—rehearsed, worn smooth by too many moments like this—but still unmistakably yours. “Thanks for calling me instead of the cops, Gare. He out back?”

The older man nods, sliding a half-empty glass your way. “Here. Poor sucker was spillin’ his guts over the terrace earlier—figure he could use a bit of hydration.”

“What would I do without you?” you murmur gratefully, taking the glass and drawing it close like a lifeline—one that might sprout legs and bolt if you loosened your grip. Or maybe it was just nerves, the tremor in your hands betraying all the self-regulating you’d done on the ride over. 

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. You make your feet move. You’re here for him—because walking away never came easy, not with Bucky.

“He oughta be askin’ himself the same damn thing about you!”

The wooden screen door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both onto the terrace—tucked away from the rest of the world. The city is hushed, as it always is on a Tuesday night—but that quiet makes room for memory: late nights after nursing school, venting over cold beers and leaning into the one shoulder that never moved away.

The same shoulder you reach for now, giving it a gentle shake—careful not to startle him. Your voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, slipping into his dreams like a lighthouse beckoning him home.

“James?”

Haunted blue eyes snap open—glossy, bloodshot, rimmed in a red so raw it wouldn’t surprise you if he wept blood. Recognition flashes across his face before it hits you like a lash—he looks worse than he did the last time you saw him.

“Look at you,” he exhales, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth where his cheek’s still pressed to the table. “Still comin’ around to take out the trash.”

You’d learned not to entertain the self-deprecation—your shrink drilled that in, warning how it always snowballed into an argument.

“Nice to see you, too. C’mon—” You set the glass of club soda down with an unintentionally sharp clink. He winces. “Drink this. Let’s get you home.”

“Oh? And what will the husband have to say about that?”

Affirmation Six: Establish boundaries, even when it’s uncomfortable.

You say nothing, just circle behind him and guide him upright by the shoulders. You nudge the barstool around with the toe of your white tennis shoe and set the glass in front of him again.

“My husband isn’t an appropriate conversation topic for us. Drink.”

He scoffs, turning his head to dismiss the glass. “Jesus, doll. What kind of yuppie bullshit water they got y’all drinking? ‘Appropriate conversation topic’—the fuck does that even mean?”

He stands slowly, deliberately, not to intimidate but to level with you—as if rising could make the question more reasonable. “What, I ain’t allowed to talk shit on him anymore?”

“God… Grow up, would you?” Your voice cracks with the effort to stay composed. “Gary called my landline. You woke my kids. My husband had to call the hospital to find me because he thought you were dying.”

You stare at him—really stare. “And here you are. Killing your liver and making me wonder why the hell I just crossed town for you.”

The moon casts a stark shadow across his face, catching the thin ribbon of blue in his eyes—bright against all that hollow.

His voice slices through the silence, low and certain. “’Cause you know deep down where your heart is.”

You let out a breath, shaky and quiet, and for a moment, all the years between you collapse into silence. That’s all your love was—a pawn in a never ending game of chess.

“You don’t get to say that anymore.”

He doesn’t flinch when you move away from him, doesn’t call out for you—pride a white-hot sword down his throat. He just watches you like he’s memorizing the way you look when you finally let go. 

You linger a second longer—long enough to give yourself the chance to turn back. But you don’t.

Your hand brushes the doorframe, fingers tightening like you’re steadying yourself before the fall.

“I’ve loved you longer than I should’ve.”

[gn-bee]

❄️❄️❄️

he broke it to share, because the stars are just cookies in my head

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

And separate, just because-

Ufotable please include the swordsmiths in more merch and art hands and knees begging

[i-am-simply-here]

I love looking at the rare family pictures and seeing that lopsided smile copy pasted on each face. Yeah. No doubt that's family

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Sequel here

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[screampied]

you don’t really realize you’re growing old with satoru until you spot a grey tress inside the roots of your hair as you’re looking in the mirror. the thing about marriage and life itself was that time really doesn’t stop—for no one. as you entrap the lock between your fingers, you murmur out to satoru with a cheeky grin. “satoru baby, c’mere.”and as he’s lying in bed with a wrinkled nose, he reads some book titled ‘three men in a boat.’ as he flips a thick page, his cerulean blue reading glasses crook down the bridge of his nose before he turns his attention toward you.

“yesss, honey?” he rubs his eyes, bringing a palm up to his growing stubble. as he got older, you noticed how he moved a bit slower. satoru was still fit as he aged, but he’d have a bit of a waddle whenever he walked. it was cute—how his limbs were getting more and more fragile, but he was still labeled as the strongest despite his inevitable aging.

he makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you make eye contact through the mirror that reflects you both, a happy married couple. “look, we’re finally matching now,” and his face softens once you bring the silvery colored strand up to his view. ‘matching,’ because his hair was naturally a snowy white . . almost similar to the strand of hair you just showed him.

although as the years progressed, satoru was growing ashen grey streaks too.

“i guess we are,” he replied in a gentle tone, his hands remaining on your hips. satoru’s touch was always gentle and ginger. he presses his lips near the back of your nape before letting off a soft sigh. “you’d look pretty with white hair, actually.”

“prettier than you?” you hum, glancing at him through the mirror. satoru towers over you as he holds you, the band of his wedding ring grazing against your hip.

again, you watch as the corners of his lips crease into a smile. a toothy genuine one where his dimples show.

“haha, veeeery funny,” and as he buries his face into your neck, he deeply ponders to himself for a moment.

to think . . how much time has passed, out of all the countless tiresome battles he’s had to face—

all those years at trying to keep the world safe and now, he could finally relax. having his arms around you gave him a peace of mind, and in the end it was all worth it because at the end of the day, satoru gojo—the strongest, came back to you. you were his personal safe haven and he was yours.

“but honeyyy,” he yawns with rosy pouty lips, shifting his chin up to rest against your left shoulder. satoru starts leading you toward your side of the bed. “ ‘s pretty late, let’s getcha back to bed, hm?”

“okay,” you mumble, already feeling your eyes starting to get heavy again. satoru’s still got his burly arms wrapped around your waist as he leisurely guides you back to bed. he was clingy, and that never changed. satoru gojo’s always been clingy ever since the two of you met. as he pulls down the cover for you to enter, you crawl back in and he gets beside you.

satoru slings an arm around you, pulling you close as his hooded eyes starts a staring contest with the swaying wooden ceiling fan.

it’s moving slow. . just like time was.

whenever he was with you, it felt as if time stood still. and as the both of you cuddled against each other with your head resting against his beating heart, he sighs. it’s a content happy sigh, and satoru’s hands find their way near the top of your head. his thin fingers maze it’s way near your soft grey growing strand before he leans in, giving the crown of your head a goodnight kiss. “mwah,” and he watches as your eyes briefly widen before glancing away, growing sheepish. “get some rest, my love. i’ll be here when you wake up. promise.”

you nod, too drowsy to reply and he pulls you closer. satoru’s heartbeat was steady and slow, and each pulse that bested against your ear made you felt more and more protected. as he holds you firm and close, a hand of his softly caresses your forehead—brushing against the soft hairs that cling onto your skin.

as your breathing starts to relax and your eyelids finally close, he realizes you finally drifted off to sleep. satoru exhales lowly, almost forgetting to take off his reading glasses. as he places them near the nightstand, he lies back down, giving your sleeping state once last glance.

“i love you,” he whispers against your ear before reaching for the pearled lamp switch. “so much.”your head nuzzles against his chest and he assumes that was your non-verbal way of saying it back, even in your sleep. cute.

the only sounds that could be heard were the faint tick tocking of the grandfather clock that stood near the hallway and your soft breathing as you deeply slept. satoru feels a smile tugging against his glossed lips yet again, but this time it’s different . .

it’s not the same smile from when you showed him that you were graying, it was a more genuine smile that was satisfied at everything—primarily at life. satoru’s long crystalline lashes gradually flap shut as he smiles to himself, a thumb brushing against your forehead. all those battles was worth it in the end, because right now, he’s at the only place he wanted to be . . with you.

life wasn’t a competition, but satoru finally felt at peace, true peace—and that peace was being in your presence. he wasn’t one for believing in good endings, but maybe this particular one wasn’t so bad.

“i . . won.”

[slapmeshigaraki]

biiig stretch

♡ pairings: rafayel, caleb x reader

♡ warnings: spit, condescension, slight dumbification, dirty talk, uhhhh caleb is a little grosser than i intended in this, both boys are pretty mean, feet, daddy, fingering, pussy eating, crying but like in a sexy way, mentions of overstimulation, one singular pussy slap, begging, barely proof read i wrote this shit at like 1am

♡ summary: how they handle a 'tight fit'

♡a/n: uhhhh these are a little mean so i apologize,, i was feral when i wrote this idk. also y'all pray for me for my midterms,, it's not looking too good rn lmaoo. enjoy lovelies xx

୨୧ rafayel ୨୧

"Angel, if you don't relax, it's not gonna fit." The mans voice was a soft whisper into your ear, his hot breath gently caressing your skin as his wandering hands explored every inch of your insides. Two of Rafayel's fingers were jammed into your drooling pussy, your juices soaking his palm with every movement that he made past your entrance. You were gripping him so tightly--too tightly now, your entire body tensing up as he tried to slide another finger inside of you.

"Don't be nervous--'m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Just gotta stretch this sweet little pussy open a bit before she can take my cock, right? You trust me, don't you?" Your thighs couldn't help but to weaken as you felt him place sloppy, wet kisses against the crook of your neck, his saliva dripping across your flesh as he toyed with your aching clit with his thumb.

"Y-yes, I trust you."

"Good. Then calm down for me, okay? Show me you can be good--let me inside." You could feel his soft lips form a smile against your skin as he squeezed a third digit inside of you, reveling in the way your body took him in so nicely. His free hand made its way to your mouth, two of his fingers tapping against your cheek, signaling for you to part your lips as he whispered into your ear once more, "Open up this hole for me too--fuckkk, good job, baby. Taking all of my fingers so well. You look so pretty when you get filled, does it feel good, angel girl?" All you could manage was a few muffled moans against his fingers as he jammed them further into your throat, matching the same intensity as the digits inside your other hole now.

"You gonna cum on my fingers again already? That's okay, don't hold it back. This pussy's gonna be so lubed up for me, making so many sweet juices. That's it cum for me, it's okay. I got you--" With no more than a couple pumps of his fingers inside of you, slamming against your g-spot with ease, and his filthy words fogging up your brain, your were cumming. He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth, desperate to hear your moans uninhibited. The way you sang for him--god, he was so hungry to hear it again.

"Good fucking girl, so good for me, making a mess all over my fingers. You wanna try that on my cock next time, hm?" A fithy squelching sound rang in your ears as he slid his fingers out of your cunt, cream coating his hand as he readjusted himself, lining his wet and aching tip up with your hole.

"Wanna cum on your cock, but I don't think it's gonna fit." Your voice quivered as you felt Rafayel's hot flesh pressed against yours. You raised your head off the pillow a little, attempting to look down at the scene, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Shhh..." A soft kiss was pressed to your cheek, his hand gripping the side of your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don't look down. Eyes on me, pretty girl. It's only gonna hurt for a second, okay? Just a little while and then I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good. I promise, angel." He was painfully hard, the wetness from his precum coating your lips as he slowly slid himself against you, brushing against your clit with every motion. He wanted nothing more than to force himself inside of you, to feel your gooey walls milking him, to hear the way you whined against him as he muffled your noises with his lips, forcing you to moan into his mouth--but he restrained himself.

"It's gonna hurt more if you don't relax a bit for me, baby. You don't need to be scared, you're already stretched open, remember? It's just the tip right now, but you gotta' tell me you can take it before I try to push it in." His other fingers, still coated in your cum were back on your clit now, slowly working your pussy just the way you liked as he continued rubbing his thick length against you. You'd seen it before, felt it through his pants, had it in your throat countless times, but this was different. You could barely fit him in your mouth for weeks, the feeling of taking him to the back of your throat brought tears to your eyes every time, so the thought of having to take him, all of him, inside of your cunt had your stomach in knots...but you wanted to feel him so bad, to see the way his angelic face contorted as he sung your praises, to have your hole clenching around his cock, to feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of you after he'd stuffed you full.

"Yes...want you to put it in. Promise I can take it." His lips met yours finally, pulling you in for a deep kiss, his tongue forcing yours into submission, desperately trying to keep you focused on anything other than the stretching sensation of his grithy cock squeezing between your walls. You whined out against his mouth, the pleasure of his fingers on your clit mixed with the subdued pain of his mushroom head inside of your tight cunt was enough to make you squirm beneath him. You had this man's mouth watering, your nimble fingers clawing against his back, leaving reddened marks on his skin as you softly moaned out his name. He'd never felt anything so good--so warm, so fucking wet in his entire life. He pulled his mouth back from yours, forcing your eyes to flutter open and lock with his once more, your lips swollen from the earlier attack.

"You took that so fucking good...my sweet girl." He kept playing with your clit, leaving little moans to slither out of your mouth as his other hand forced your leg down against the bed, the weight of his body leaving you completely exposed. "Now you have to trust me again, yeah? I'm gonna put the rest in now and you just have to take it okay...you promised me you would take it for me."

"Wait--no no I can't--"

"I can't wait any longer--fuck--I gotta feel this pussy wrapped around my whole cock. Just take a deep breath for me, okay?" You had no time left to protest before the stinging sensation overtook your body, the stretch bringing tears to your eyes, as the man whispered in your ear, "Biiig stretch...sorry angel, but look, you took it so good--like you were made to take my fucking cock. My perfect pretty girl."

"Feel so full, Rafayel," you whined and whimpered as he slowly rocked his hips back and forth into you, giving you time to adjust to his length after shoving it all in so brutally.

"I know baby, I know. No more tears...just feel good for me now." He continued pressing sloppy kisses onto your skin, his thumb sliding back down between your bodies, finding your clit with ease as he slowly rubbed tiny circles, his entire hand sticky with your wetness. You were back to moaning his name in no time, begging for more.

"See, angel...I told you I'd make it better, yeah? I'm sorry I had to hurt you. Now close your eyes and let me show this pussy some appreciation...she opened up so fucking well for me. It's the least I could do."

୨୧ caleb ୨୧

"Come on baby, give me one more. Let me taste you again." His voice was low, groaning as he looked up at you from between your plush thighs, his big rough hands kneading your flesh as his fat tongue cupped your pussy.

"No more, please just fuck me."

"Wow, you get fucking nasty when you wanna cum, huh? What's wrong, mama? You don't like my tongue?" You didn't answer, the overwhelming pleasure clouding your brain as your hole clenched around nothing, forcing more and more juices out and into Caleb's mouth. He knew just how to make you cum, and he had been mercilessly utilizing this skill for the last hour, the stimulation had been bringing tears to your eyes as he softly sucked your clit, lips latching onto your sensitive nub as his muscled arms pinned you in place.

"Answer me when I ask you a question." Without warning Caleb's grip on your thigh was gone, the warm feeling of his tongue against your cunt soon replaced by a harsh smack to your clit. You screamed out, the surprise of the stinging pain effortlessly catching you off guard.

"Fuck yes I like your tongue. Just--I just wanna feel you...please Caleb."

"Can't fuck you if you can't listen when I'm talking to ya'. Gotta focus for me for just a little longer, okay? Just need you a little bit wetter, wanna see this pussy dripping all over the bed." Caleb was fucking mean when he got like this, pupils dialated, mouth salivating at the taste of you, his hips rutting against the edge of the bed as he shoved his tongue past your tight entrance as you cursed under your breath. It took no time for you to cum again, hips rising off of the mattress, bucking into Caleb's face as he used his weight to press you back down--not wanting to give you the chance to escape his tongue before he was ready.

"Fuckkk you taste so good--so fucking sweet, I could eat this pussy all day."

"No no no please I need to feel you inside of me. I want your dick so bad." Caleb was elated, violet eyes widened in surprise at the disgusting words that were coming out of such a pretty mouth--he'd corrupted you and he liked it.

"Yeah? You want me to stretch that little pussy out, hm?" He couldn't hide the sinister grin that was slowly spreading across his lips as you moaned and begged for his dick inside of you, it made his balls ache just at the thought of watching you try to take all of him inside...he'd dreamed of this moment a million times before.

You watched him, subconsciously biting your lips as he slowly slid his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down, letting his thick cock spring free. He was so hard, you could practically see his length throbbing as he reached for your hand, placing your delicate fingers around his shaft. "Don't be scared of it, mama. It's not gonna bite--just stroke it for me, okay? Get used to the way it feels in your hand first." You were immediately taken aback at the sheer size of his dick. You'd never seen it before, only felt it through his pants when he'd tell you to come sit on his lap after a long day or when it'd press against the small of your back while he rubbed himself into you as you two cuddled in bed. He was so responsive to your touch, his toned abs tensing and shivering each time he felt your thumb run across the sensitive tip of his cock, relishing in the way his precum was soiling your fingertips as you fisted his length. "Shittt...your fingers are so fucking soft. Wait wait wait, hands off--fuck" The sight of Caleb quivering beneath your touch was intoxicating, his sweaty body glistening, lips still wet with your juices as he licked and bit his bottom lip, desperately trying not to let any moans escape; it only made you want to touch him more, faster, harder. A few more seconds and your hand would be covered in his cum, but just before he was about to lose all composure, you felt him grip your wrist, snatching your fingers away from him.

"When I say hands off--" He was gripping you tightly now, pushing you back down onto the bed, forcing your arms above your head as he growled into your ear, pressing his full length against your soft tummy, "I mean take your fucking hands off."

"Are you that big of a whore that you can't follow instructions? Just want my cum any way you can get it, huh? Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you want." His big hand effortless held both of your ankles together, pressing your thighs into your stomach, folding you in half and giving him a full view of your soaking heat. You couldn't help but to moan out his name as he slid himself between your lips, his thick cock brushing against your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, coating himself in your juices.

"Say my name..." It was a plea, a desperate request moaned out above the sound of your whines.

"Caleb...please."

"Nuh uh, you know that's not what I want to hear. Come on pretty girl, lemme hear you say it. Beg for me. I fucking need it." You knew exactly what he'd wanted and under any other circumstances, the embarrassment probably would've made you hide your face in your hands, cheeks burning from the humiliation, but you were so fucking wet and needy that it hurt--you'd do anything, say anything just to feel him.

"Please daddy... I want you inside of me." He took a sharp inhale as the words left your lips, groaning in pleasure, shutting his eyes tightly to keep himself from cumming on the spot. You soon felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, slowly forcing itself inside of your hole, but it was a much tighter fit than you'd initially thought. He wrapped his arm around your legs now, biceps flexing, veins enlarged, forcing your soft thighs against his chest, exposing your clit so his free hand could spread your lips apart, giving him an even better view.

"Baby...you're too tensed. I'm not gonna be able to get inside if you don't loosen this pussy up for me a little bit. You gotta' relax for daddy," You couldn't even respond before you felt a streak of wetness across your leg, his tongue licking from your knee all the way to your ankle.

"I'm gonna try something, yeah? Don't freak out, okay? Just let it feel good. Be a big girl and trust me for a second. Daddy promises it's gonna feel so fucking good. Just close your eyes." You did, and almost immediately, a wave of pleasure washed over you as you felt that same wetness swipe across the sole of your foot, one of your manicured toes being gently sucked into the man's mouth. The second he heard a gasp leave your lips, he pushed the tip in. "Good girl... so fucking sweet for me. That's it--i'm gonna put the rest of it in, okay, just keep feeling good for me and I'm gonna rub your little clit faster." The pace of his fingers quickened, his mouth continuing to lick and suck on every inch of your foot as the vibrations from his moans tickled your flesh. You opened your eyes now, meeting his gaze--you both looked fucking filthy, covered in each other's sweat, bodies entangled as he forced the rest of himself between your tight walls. "Fuckkkk there we go...biiig stretch, shittt. You look so pretty like this, sweet little hole sucking my dick so good. I'm gonna be still for a second, yeah? Let you get used to it." He really did want to give you time to adjust, but he just couldn't stay still, every subtle shiver or twitch of his body made you wriggle around beneath his grasp until you just couldn't fucking take it anymore.

"Daddy... please. I need you to move." A sigh of relief fell from his lips... a minute longer and he would've came inside of you without warning. He wasted no time rocking his hips into you slowly, stretching you with every small movement. He placed his big hand on your stomach, admiring the way he could see his bulge through your flesh.

"You feel me right here? I'm so fucking deep inside you--you're taking it like a fucking champ. My pretty girl... I swear I'm gonna get you fucking pregnant."

[sttoru]

plsplsplspl soft intimate sex with satoru:(

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. unprotected. praise kink. spooning position. crēampie. cōckwarming. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty, sweetheart, princess’

“it’s okay, baby, i know,” satoru whispers words of comfort in your ear from behind. one of his arms is wrapped around your waist to keep your body close, the other circles your thigh, holding up your leg so his cock could slide in and out smoothly.

you’ve both just woken up from an afternoon nap, needy for each other’s touch. your lover’s raspy voice paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination.

satoru wasted no time in pulling your shorts down and freeing his erection from its confines. he went from rolling his hips against the fat of your ass and fondling your tits under your shirt, to burying his fat dick all the way up your cunt.

he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your face to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms. “let it out, yeah—good girl. don’t be shy,” satoru chuckles softly as he grinds his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

your eyes are half-lidded and blurry. you’re feeling so good and loved, so pleased and happy to have a partner like him. “right there, ‘toru,” you whimper quietly once you feel the head of his dick rub back and forth on the deepest parts of your velvety insides. satoru happily obliges, hugging your body even tighter to his chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“here, baby?” the white-haired man asks, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it ghosts over your skin. he keeps his dick balls deep inside you and switches to slow and shallow strokes, “y’re so pretty. you always know jus’ how to take it. so, so, so good.”

your hands are scrambling to hold onto the white sheets. you can’t physically take the amount of pleasure you’re getting, that inevitable peak gets closer and closer. your hips involuntarily jolt back against satoru, reciprocating his gentle thrusts. a big hand reaches out to yours that’s tugging at the covers, slender fingers intertwining with your own.

“m’sgood,” you mumble incoherently through a soft whimper. your back is positioned in a nasty arch that makes satoru’s dick tingle. he sighs against your nape before allowing his tongue to wet the skin, sucking on the same spot soon after. he does the same to your sensitive ears and neck—covering you with his love while also filling your body with the same.

satoru holds your hand tightly, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. “i love you so much, y’know that, right?” he says in a gentle tone. he’s confessed his love to you so many times before, though he always makes it sound like it’s his first time doing so.

“i’m never letting you go, ever,” your partner promises before leaning over your shoulder to catch your lips in a kiss. satoru’s tongue sweeps over your bottom lip before rolling around in your warm mouth. his hips don’t stop, cock repeatedly appearing and disappearing inside of your pussy. the pace never escalates to make the moment last longer.

“mhmm— wanna b-be with you forever,” you mutter against his glossy lips, feeling safe and protected in satoru’s embrace like this. all you’re feeling, hearing and smelling is him. that’s what peace is for you. as long as you got him, you’re going to be just fine.

satoru smiles at your words. you feel so perfect around him, your cunt molded to fit his cock whenever he pleases, remembering its shape and allowing it to ruin your insides. “of course, sweets. i’ll treat you so well, ‘kay? you can count on me,” he comforts you with a forehead kiss.

“pretty girl. you’re perfect,” satoru continues to praise you like no other. his free hand runs over the small of your back and back to your thigh, keeping a gap between them so his cock can move a bit more freely. “let me hear your cute moans, c’mon. fuck, y’ turn me on so much,” he sighs, not knowing what he’d do without you.

satoru is obsessed with all of you. the combination of your personality and looks is heavenly. his lips never stop distracting you, his tender kisses covering your entire upper body. the lovey dovey atmosphere in the room never dulls even once.

“ah, ‘toruu, hnghh—can’t last f’ any longer,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back. your lover is all the evidence needed to let you know that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be good. he can make you cum for an infinite amount of times by simply grinding his hips against you—changing his techniques every now and then.

rolling his hips in small circles or simply pressing his cock all the way inside your cunt and then prodding at your sweet spots, is all what’s needed to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“aww, my poor baby. can’t hold it in f’me?” satoru pouts before kissing your temples lovingly. he caresses your hip, other hand still not letting go of your hand. there’s such a deep connection between you two—no one can ever sever it. that strong bond feels more intimate when you’re merged into one like this.

“nooo, can’t,” you shake your head and whine about how close you are. satoru nods at your needy words and dips a hand down to rub your clit. his middle and ring finger move around the small bundle of nerves in circles. “khehe, that’s okay. let’s cum together,” he whispers as kisses find their way down your jawline.

you hum in agreement, little moans filling satoru’s ears as you get closer to your climax. your body trembles and heats up, your tummy tingles and tenses up. satoru’s in the same situation as you, his low moans turning into hisses and even quiet whines against the skin of your shoulder.

he holds you close, preparing both of you to reach your long awaited releases. “sh—shit, ‘m g’nna pull out, baby—give me a second,” you hear him whimper under his breath as his hand tightens its grip around yours. he’s nearly crushing your bones.

you don’t give him time to even think of pulling his cock out. you want to relive the sensation of having his seed spread inside of your cunt, overflowing until it’s dirtying the sheets. “no- ‘toru. inside, please,” you beg quietly as your pussy locks around his cock. your walls cling onto his dick, yearning to milk his heavy balls dry of every drop.

satoru gasps and hisses, trying to speak up, but getting overpowered by his own noises of desperation. “fuck, all right, princess. as you wish,” his voice is husky and deep as he pushes his cock in to the base before dumping his load inside you.

ropes of hot cum come out quickly, one after the other, filling you with a hot creamy liquid. you can feel every drop being drained inside your spasming cunt. your own cum mixes with his, creating a lewd mess between your thighs.

“th-thank you,” you whisper tiredly. your body relaxes in satoru’s embrace. you’re trembling due to the intense aftershocks and your lover wastes no time into kissing it better. your forehead is peppered with small pecks, the rest of your face following.

satoru giggles at your fucked out state. he gives you a head pat and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. you can feel him grinning uncontrollably against your skin—the joy emitting from him is contagious.

“any time,” he sighs. you can feel his cock softening after that release, still nestled deep inside of you. he has no intention of pulling out, especially since it’s so comfortable. you let him cum inside you and thus he’ll do everything to keep that hot load buried deep inside your cunt.

you can nearly fall asleep like this with satoru. you have zero complains and simply need to relax after what just happened. perhaps take another nap or two.

the white-haired man kisses your shoulder and rubs your lower tummy, enjoying the softness, “i’m gonna prepare us a warm, relaxing bath in a second. let’s just cuddle some more, baby.”

[chariaki]

Dreams really do come true!

Husband!Nanami who comes home late from work and buys you food as an apology for coming home late.

Husband!Nanami who peppers your face and body with kisses while holding your hands to stop you from pushing him away because you always say "it tickles"

Husband!Nanami who loves to cradle you on his lap and in his arms like a baby, like in bridal style except he's sitting down. The both of you would be binge watching a series on the couch and you're all cuddled up on his lap, head resting on his firm chest or nuzzled in the crook of his neck, arms around his neck. He's got his arms wrapped around your whole figure, one across your back to your shoulder, the other under your legs, while your fluffy pink blanket drapes over the two of you.

Husband!Nanami who's big hands cup your cheeks and soft lips gently kiss away your tears.

Husband!Nanami who, in the deepest of nights when you can't sleep, sings you lullabies in a low and quiet voice. You can feel the vibrations gently reverbating from the deepness of his voice. His lovely voice that swoons you to a peaceful slumber.

Husband!Nanami who wraps his scarf around your neck during wintet when he notices you freezing.

Husband!Nanami who's big hands grab your tiny ones and brings it closer to his lips, breathing out hot air to warm your cold hands while rubbing them slowly and gently.

Husband!Nanami who hums to the melody of your favorite songs when he's washing the dishes.

Husband!Nanami who loves and enjoys cooking breakfast for you when he's not busy with work. He's committed to it as if it's a natural thing to do. Like it's his life's duty. And every dish is decorated with cute heart shapes, animal faces and the classic "I love you" ketchup writing on your omelette.

Husband!Nanami who greets you with "Good morning, sweatheart/darling/love/beautiful/honey. " Literally every love-sick petname there is.

Husband!Nanami who's whole focus is on you. Body faced to you, eyes locked on your face, your gestures, your body. His smile is for you and because of you. So naturally, when your eating the breakfast he cooked, he feels proud of himself. He looks at you so lovingly. Hands instinctively caressing your head, untangling your bed hair, eyes wrinkled happily from the sight of you in his clothes, in his apartment, eating his food.

Husband!Nanami who's dream has come true.

[chleem]

Mr & Mrs Starkey

One shot: husband drew x wife yn 

Summary: In which your 5 year-old son catches you kissing santa claus, oblivious to the fact that it's just drew under the costume.

Genre: fluff, smut (shower sex , read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ merry xmas! | mistletoe | halloween

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You lean against the doorframe of the shared bedroom, watching ‘Santa Claus’ place wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. 

Drew’s movements are very sloppy, due to the big red suit he’s wearing. 

“Seems like Santa needs to lose some weight,” you tease, not even trying to hide how funny you find his situation. 

Recently, your son, Ben learned about Santa Claus and how he brings presents to kids, and like any curious five-year-old, he's completely captivated by the idea of ‘catching’ Santa. The details of his plan are a little hazy to you—he mentioned it about a month ago, but you forgot the specifics.

You told Drew that no costume was necessary; just eat the cookies on the table and put the presents in place. But Drew insisted. And now, here he is, awkwardly fumbling around in a full Santa suit. 

Placing the last gift under the tree, he turns around, his white beard and hat threatening to slip off. His blue eyes meets yours with annoyance, lips pressed in a thin line. “Well, usually my elves do this.”

You giggle, finding Drew’s dedication to the part funny and cute. “Okay, Mr Claus,” you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “take a break and have some cookies, huh?”

The annoyance in his eyes fade away, his shoulders relaxing under your touch. “You could’ve been my elf,” he murmurs, hands wrapping around your waist. 

“But I’m Mrs Claus, remember? I stay home, do dishes, yadayada,” you joke, rolling your eyes dramatically. “leave the heavy work- important work to you.”

Drew parts his mouth, looking down at you with a knowing look. 

“I did wrap the presents, didn’t I?” You continue to say. “Doesn’t that count for being an elf? I picked out the gifts, payed for it, set the tree up with Ben-“

Drew’s lips aggressively thrusts itself into yours; tongue fighting for access. You gasp into his mouth; taken aback by the abrupt action. That allows the slip of his tongue, tangling in with yours. 

The cheap fake beard makes it hard to concentrate though; the rough hairs getting in between. 

You pull away from him; eyes hooding with a soft smile on your lips. “Rude.”

“You talk too much sometimes,” he murmurs, a hand going up to cup your face. 

“Isn’t that why you married me-“

He plants his lips on yours again, and you giggle against his lips. 

Drew laughs too; the warmth between you two palpable, the quiet intimacy of the moment almost too perfect. Drew’s hand, still cupping your face, gently tugs you closer, his thumb brushing over your cheek in that way that always makes you melt. The kiss deepens, slow and soft, as if he’s savoring every second of it. 

When you finally pull away, both of you breathless, you find yourself caught in his gaze. It’s that look—the one that makes your heart race, the one that feels like he’s seeing straight into you. You smile, your heart fluttering a little more than it should.

“Maybe I do talk too much,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirks, his fingers tracing along the line of your jaw. “You can talk as much as you want... as long as it’s with me.”

The attempt to sound sweet and lovely is ruined by your incapability of staying serious; because how could you, when Drew’s fake beard is crooked and he’s got this silly red suit with the big belly on? 

“What now?” Drew murmurs, eyeing the silly grin on your face.

“I’m kissing Santa Claus,” you chuckle, reaching up to give his beard a playful tug.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes looking at you with a mischievous glint to them. 

“You naughty girl,” masked with a chuckle, a seductive tone is laced in his words, matching the smirk that’s hidden beneath the white beard. Drew leans in again, catching you in another kiss. 

This time, however, his hands start to roam around your body, feeling the material of your thick hoodie. 

His lips travel down your neck, kissing wherever is exposed. 

You let soft moans escape your mouth; the erotic feeling building in your lower stomach. With a hitched and breathless voice, you ask, “hey Drew?”

He lazily hums against your skin, hands resting just above your ass. 

“Wanna help me shower?” you whisper seductively into his ear, tugging the Santa hat off his head.

Drew pulls back slightly, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. “Y’know you don’t need to ask…”

You plant a kiss on his jaw, soft but deliberate, before moving away, your hand tugging at his sleeve as you make your way toward the bathroom. But Drew doesn’t follow, a thoughtful look painted all over him. 

“Stockings…” he murmurs, looking over his head at the fireplace, with the stockings that he needs to fill as ‘Santa Claus’.

You sigh, knowing exactly where this is going. After all, both of you are suckers for your son, always willing to put everything aside just to see his smile. You glance at Drew, trying to look annoyed, but the soft smile on your face betrays the affection you feel for him—and the family you’ve built together.

“Fine. I’ll shower alone,” you start, readjusting the fake beard he has on. “And I’ll leave Santa to his duties.”

“Thank you,” he sourly replies, his frown evident though the thick beard. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, your lips matching the expression he has. You pat his shoulder, before turning around, making your way to the bathroom. 

You make sure to add an extra sway to your hips, a lame attempt to convince Drew to ditch his costume and join you. 

But nope. Not even when you start stripping, leaving the door open for him to peek. 

——

The bathroom was thick with steam, the fog clouding the mirror as the water poured from the shower head.

You stand underneath the spray; getting ready to wash your body next. 

When you reach for the soap, a much larger hand takes hold of yours, stopping you. You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, Drew, who presses his body close. 

“Hi,” you flirtatiously start, which comes out more hitched. 

Feeling the soft press of his tip against your back, the breathing gets much harder to steady. 

The temperature in here is definitely rising- not because of the shower. 

“You mad?” Drew’s voice comes out low, a soft smile on his lips as he turns you around to face him. 

You don’t miss the quick glance down to your tits; his gaze lingering longer there than it should be. 

You cock your head to the side, pretending to think it over, but the teasing glint in your eyes gives you away. His hands move to your waist, rubbing circles over your skin, his blue eyes searching yours for an answer.

Your lack of response serves as an invitation for Drew to start planting kisses along your neck, lingering longer on your sweet-spots. 

“Drew…” you softly moan, the thoughts forgotten as he starts sucking the skin on your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer than he already is. His hands find themselves traveling down your body, squeezing your waist, ass, thighs, anywhere he likes. 

“I like this,” he murmurs against your skin, as his hand squeezes your ass again. 

“Mhm,” you lazily hum, running your hands through his wet hair, feeling his aroused dick brushing against your pussy. Shit.

His hands hook under your thighs; lifting you up effortlessly. And because of all the times you've done this, you instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pinning you against the tiled wall. 

This position causes his dick to brush against your inner thigh; your tits brushing his chest. 

“I like….”

Leaning against the wall, your gaze locks with his hooded blue eyes, feeling the weight of his stare on your lips. “…the way you take me in.”

You chuckle at Drew’s attempt at talk dirty, something you’ll always find amusing throughout your marriage with him. Okay, you liked it, but who were you if you didn’t play along with it? “Well, show me how much you like it.”

A dorky grin Drew fails to suppress shows on his lips, his hands’ gripping tightly on your flesh. His eyes flash down look at the closed proximity you both are in; before quickly flickering back up. 

That makes the blood rush to your cheeks, a flush creeping over your skin. 

“Gonna-“ he leans in and catches your lips in a messy kiss, his teeth pulling on your bottom lip. “-fuck your brains out.”

You breathlessly giggle at that too, your eyes softly focused on Drew, a smitten look in them. 

Without another comment, Drew adjusts his hips, and you feel his cock slowly entering you. Glancing down, your breath hitches as he thrusts in; deeply nested inside. 

“Fuck,” you moan out, tilting your head to rest against the wall.

The showering water that flows down might as well serve as lubricant- yet your walls still feel tight.

Your eyes close for a moment; and you feel Drew’s lips on your neck again- kissing hard enough to leave hickeys. He eventually trails down, lips coming in contact with your breasts. 

He groans as your hands travel down his neck, before tightening around his shoulders. Your nails dig in, averting the pressure there. 

“Drew…” you whine, hoping he starts moving, your eyes flustering open. 

He pulls away, his mouth opened slightly with the same smitten look in his eyes. “…looking at you like this-“ he delivers a thrust to your core; the shock of it causing a loud moan to escape your lips. He chuckles at that, before finishing his words, “makes me wanna put another baby in you.”

“Shit,” you breathe out, as his hips start to roughly slam into yours; one of his hands coming up to play with your tits. The sensation of his thick cock thrusting into you is enough to blur out his words. 

Your body bounces with each rough push his hips drill into your pussy- matching the moans escaping your mouth. He grunts, the sound matching the rising heat in the room, each exhale thick with the intensity building between you.

“F-feels so good,” you mumble.

“Feels good, yeah?” He chuckles lowly, repeating your words. You watch as a grin tugs itself at the corner of his lips, his blue eyes staring lustfully into yours. “Buried with my cock- you look pretty, babe.”

His words, the fast pace, his hands roaming all over sends an alarm to your core, your orgasm building and threatening to explode. 

“Fuck,” you moan, your walls clenching around him as he readjusts you; allowing his dick to thrust into the familiarity of your g-spot. “I’m, c-close”

“Yeah?” Drew kisses the corner of your lips, his moves never stopping. “Right on my cock, baby.”

His lips catches yours again, kissing you clumsily and swallowing the soft sounds you produced. 

The knot in your stomach goes undone- and you feel the warm liquid erupting out of you, over Drew’s cock. You clench around him again, as he continues his pace to chase out his own high. 

His moves become sloppier, his lips pulling away as his dick twitches inside of you, his cream painting your walls white. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, slowly pulling out to leave the tip inside you, just to push fully back in again. 

You chuckle tiredly at that, as he shoves his cum deep into your cunt. “Oh, Drew…” your tone comes out almost like a whine, your throat going hoarse. 

You don’t even try to hide how limp your body is, muscles giving out on holding onto Drew. 

“My beautiful wife,” he almost purrs, blue eyes staring into yours in a smitten way that makes the butterflies in your stomach to fly widely loose. He sets you down on the floor slowly, helping you regain your balance. 

You let his warm hands brush away the hair sticking to the side of your face, the shower head pouring warm water over both of you.

You stand in silence, staring into each other's eyes, both trying to regain your composure from the intensity of the sex. 

“Love it when you talk dirty to me,” you suddenly say, your tone a mix of teasing and heat, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Drew catches onto that; his lips curving into a smirk. His hands slips back to your waist, settling there as if it belongs. “I’k what my girl likes.”

“Geez, what a man,” you tease, your breath catching as his fingers trace over your skin. “Knows what his girl wants.”

You lean in and kiss him briefly, yet pouring your emotions into it. He returns it; bringing one hand up to cup your face, angling it to allow access to his tongue. 

Fuck.

After six years of marriage, he can still easily turn you on like a switch—effortlessly, every damn time. 

You pull away, catching the fucked-out look in Drew’s eyes, the blue beaming down at you. “I’m sleepy,” you murmur, which was your meaning of ‘fuck me in bed, I’m tired’.

“‘Kay,” he murmurs, rubbing circles along your jaw, “let me, give you the princess treatment first, yeah?”

You snort at his words, as he reaches behind you to grab the soap. You don’t miss his low chuckle, even finding his own words funny. 

You relax, and let Drew give you the luxurious ‘princess treatment’, cleaning you up and ready for bed. 

——

Christmas morning

“Ben’s acting weird…”

You whisper to Drew, as you place the dishes into the sink. You spare subtle glances over at your son, sitting on the couch. 

His attention is fixed on the TV, his new toy in hand—opened first, his excitement obvious.

Drew leans against the counter, sipping on the third cup of coffee he made this morning. Last night, well, both of you didn’t get much sleep. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, before shrugging. “No?”

“Um, not to you,” you keep your voice low, standing next to Drew as you both watch the living room.

During breakfast, Ben had been shy, avoiding your gaze and giving short answers to your questions. But he seemed perfectly fine when you tucked him into bed yesterday. “Did I do something last night?”

Drew snickers, and when you glance at him, he casually unzips his jacket. With a smug grin, he reveals the hickeys you’d left on his neck last night. 

Shit. This man is a dad, and he can’t seem to be serious at all during times like this.

His grin escalates into laughter when you roll your eyes at him, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. Ask him for me, will you?”

“Alright, alr- I’ll do it.”

Drew doesn’t move, taking another sip of his coffee. 

You send him a glare, along with aggressively zipping his jacket back up. 

“You mean now, got it,” he chuckles, putting the cup down. You shake your head at him, a smile reappearing on your lips as he walks away. 

You busy yourself by scrolling through your Insta, liking posts you don’t care about. The soft whispers you hear are barely audible, drowned out by the TV and the occasional rumble of Ben’s toy.

It’s about two minutes in when you hear Drew’s throaty laugh through the house, Ben hurriedly yelling, “daddy! Quiet!”

“You got anything to support that?” Drew’s voice comes through, his attempt at keeping quiet failing miserably.

You glance up just in time to see Ben jump off Drew’s lap, rushing toward his room.

Meeting Drew’s gaze, you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. You walk over and sit down beside him, waiting for an explanation.

“You’ll see. It’s hilarious,” Drew says with a grin, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. You give him a sideways glance, not buying it for a second. 

Ben runs back, his familiar blue eyes meeting yours for a split second before he quickly looks away.

“Wanna show Mommy what’s in your hand?” you chirp, your gaze landing on the toy camera you bought him a few months ago, now clutched tightly in his small hands.

He ignores you; walking straight into Drew’s arms. 

“Well that’s rude,” you murmur, but both father and son remain oblivious, their attention now fully on the toy camera.

As you try to sneak a peek, Drew leans away with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying whatever he’s looking at. Ben, on the other hand, glances at it nervously, his small brow furrowing in worry. 

Your curiosity grows by the minute, heightening when Ben says, “is mommy in trouble?”

His big, doe blue eyes meets yours again, and he looks like a sad puppy (much like his dad sometimes). It melts your heart; again proving you could never be mad at this kid. 

His dad, on the other hand, you might choke him to death if he doesn’t explain what’s going on right now. 

“Why don’t you tell mommy?” Drew teases, his hand rubbing Ben’s stomach in an assuring way. 

You can see the thought process on Ben’s face, the pout deepening as he concentrates. His small brows furrow, eyes narrowing in serious contemplation.

Finally, Ben points his little finger at you, his voice loud and clear. “Mommy kissed Santa Claus!”

Your mouth drops open in shock as your mind races through the events of last night. Shit. You kissed Drew, who was dressed as Santa. Then the shower together- But how did Ben catch you? Was he out of bed? Did he—

Drew flips the small toy camera’s screen toward you, revealing a paused video. There’s no mistaking it: it's you, mid-kiss, with Drew in his Santa costume.

Oh. So this was his great plan of catching Santa Claus. A hidden camera.

Your face flushes as you look back at Drew, who’s struggling to suppress his laugh. You quickly cover your mouth, trying to hide the matching smile creeping onto your lips.

“Oh, Ben, honey,” you start, your voice sweet but a little flustered. His eyes glance up at you, eagerly awaiting your response. Relax, he’s only a five-year old kid. “Santa needed help with the presents…and mommy helped him.”

You flash a small smile, hoping he’ll understand. Ben looks up at you with a puzzled face, clearly not buying it. 

Dammit, five-year olds are getting too smart these days. 

“Don’t worry; mommy’s on the good girls’ list,” Drew adds on, clearly enjoying this. 

You shoot him a glare - really? “Ben, mommy would never kiss Santa,” you say firmly. “I was hugging him- see?”

“But you kiss daddy like that all the time,” Ben loudly comments, fidgeting nervously. 

A soft laugh leaves Drew’s mouth, absolutely no help to his situation. Great, just another reminder to yourself to maybe keep the affectionate touches to a minimum around Ben in the future.

“Okay,” you start, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Yes, Mommy and Daddy kiss sometimes, but Santa—he's just, well, he’s just here to deliver the gifts. That’s all.”

You glance at Drew, who’s still trying (and failing) to hide his grin. “Right, Drew?” you add, shooting him a look that says get it together.

“Right, right,” Drew says quickly, trying to sound serious. 

“So, Ben,” you turn your gaze back to your son, holding his tiny hand. Gosh, he’s adorable. “Santa's just doing his job to make Christmas magical. Okay?”

Ben nods slowly, his tiny face scrunching as he seems to take it all in. “Okay, mommy.”

You smile fondly at him, reaching your arms out.

He lets out a laugh that’s eerily similar to Drew’s, a lighter sound as he buries into your embrace. The sound of his laughter fills the room, bringing a sense of joy to your heart.

Somehow, with all its goofiness, it’s moments like this that make everything feel so right.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, as he snuggles against you, you can’t help but think—god, he’s basically a mini version of Joseph Andrew Starkey.

“Mommy loves you,” you say, as Ben pulls away. 

“I love you too, Mommy,” he mumbles, his voice soft but genuine. Like every kid, though, his attention span is short. His eyes drift over to the Christmas tree, where a few presents remain under the glittering lights. “Can I open the rest?”

You nod at him, and Ben takes off immediately, racing towards the Christmas tree. You can't help but smile as you watch him grab the first big present in front of him, tearing it apart. 

Although, your smile falters as your eyes drift back to Drew. He’s lounging on the couch, a lazy smile on his lips as he watches Ben, clearly amused.

Without thinking, you slap his stomach a bit roughly, causing him to flinch in his seat.

"Hey!" Drew protests quietly, his eyes widening in surprise as he looks at you. "What was that for?”

“Really? ‘Good girls’ list’?” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow at him.

He scoots himself closer to you, his smirk deepening, “you definitely took it like a good girl last night.”

Fuck. 

You freeze, his words hanging in the air, sending a shockwave through your chest.

"God, you're impossible,” you groan, slapping his hand away, the one trying to slip under your cardigan. 

Drew’s throaty laugh escapes again, wanting to further tease you when Ben interrupts the short conversation. 

He proudly shows off the present he got from ‘Santa’; a toy truck that he’s been begging for since forever. His small hands grip the toy truck, eyes wide with excitement.

The warmth of the moment radiates off you, and everything else fades away. Ben’s joy fills the room, and for a moment, it’s as if time stands still. 

The Christmas tree lights flicker softly in the background, casting a gentle glow, and the world outside feels distant, as if nothing else matters.

What a jolly merry Christmas. 

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

word count: 3.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i want drew's kids. and i hate kids. but i want his.

other | mistletoe | hallow's eve