#this is because these past few days I have had a terrible time with sleeping

[angstigone]

WARNINGS: grief, insomnnia, this is written horribly at the presente tense but I thought I'd try.

a distraction can cost a devil hunter their own life.

aki knows.

you should know it, and yet aki can tell that your movements have slowed down comprehensively and your reflexes aren't as sharp as the job requires; he might have wondered why you were so distracted but the answer came quick and sharp with just a look at your face: heavy undereye bags, zoned out eyes and a slight teary effect to them.

obviously, you don't seem to recount when was the last time you slept peacefully.

when confronted by a playful himeno, you reply that it's simply an aftereffect of some neighbors waking you up earlier than usual due to maintenance works, but none in the squad believes it as you have lost your partner a few weeks ago and the signs of mourning are evident in your face.

nightmares are keeping you up, a condition that aki knows all too well. yet, he finds it difficult to properly comfort you: you aren't that close, and especially, an air of danger gets him whenever involvement with you - his pretty colleague - is brought up.

it feels like he's toeing a line he shouldn't cross.

and yet, his concern doesn't diminish as you come into work tired by the day till you eventually snap.

he shouldn't have kept you waiting that day, especially as you had been working overtime but the dudes of division two had been eager to catch up and he had ended up leaving you steaming in his office for an half an hour.

when he went to open the door with an apology already on his mouth, he caught the sight of you slumped, head against the desk and hands beneath it to cushion it comfortably.

he guessed that you might have thought of adjusting your position more comfortably to plop your head down in relaxation while waiting for him, just to close your eyes and start what must be the first relaxing nap in a long time.

aki is quick to adjust himself so that he doesn't make too much noise, gently closing the door behind him with the silliest 'click', as not to have you exposed to his colleagues - the few that remains, anyway - both as to give you a bit of privacy and both as he doesn't want to share such an adorable sight with anybody.

you don't drool but sleep with your mouth lightly opened and your nose emits a soft grunt, albeit not yet snoring, probably due to the position. your shoulders are slumped and lightly raised with gentle breathing. something is fascinating in watching a person sleep, aki thinks, immediately feeling like a huge pervert as he comes behind you and with a gentle shake of your arm, he's quick to wake you up.

it isn't a choice that he went with willingly: he doesn't think that it's fair for him to interrupt the first wink of sleep that you got in a long time, but at the same time you have to go back home and sleep in a better place, especially as you don't live nearby. he wouldn't want for you to fall asleep again in the subway.

you wake up with a stilted startle, at first slowly as the stilling of your shoulder is a sign that undoubtedly you have risen, before turning like a whip your head to the hand on your shoulder and then swiftly to aki's face. comforted by the familiar sight, your cheeks immediately becomes heated enough that aki can feel the warmth coming from them.

«I... wasn't... I...».

«sorry for having kept you waiting» he says professionally, walking around his desk to move in front of you, not yet seating himself and not yet looking at you to give you the time to collect yourself, which you do by gently closing your mouth and straightening your slumped posture «... and please... if anything, I am glad my office was comfortable enough».

he tries not to let the note of obvious pride linger in his tone; you chose his place - out of every other office in the public safety department - to fall asleep as you haven't gotten a single wink of sleep. it feels like there's something lingering although aki quickly shuts it down again with his careful ease.

«yeah, I...» the apology is on your tongue and you hold it back by simply shifting your gaze from the desk to your lap. a pity as aki has always been so fond of your pretty eyes. «... either way, I have the reports you asked and I'd like to get through them as they might be interesting for...».

the following half an hour is an uncomfortable discussion about tactics while aki's eyes will sometimes linger - when you can't notice it - on the slight rumple of your skin due to being pushed on his desk; is it creepy he thinks it's the closest thing to a mark of him you'd ever have?

«... and that's all» he finishes the quick discussion, as you nod and go to raise up quickly; you do seem a bit more relaxed and aki, himself, noticed the slight slump of your shoulders, that tend to be more tense «... I mean that'd be all if you don't have...».

«at ease» he jokes, obtaining the opposite effect that you tense up, before releasing the slight tension slowly «... I also well, I wanted to ask whether there was anything in this period that...».

as if expecting this question - it must be the one that everybody seems to be asking you as of lately, for sure - your eyes lightly roll in an unamused expression, before answering mechanically:

«it's fine, it's just some lack of sleep. have been waking up much earlier on the weekends than I'd like...».

«sorry to hear that» something in aki's chest pushes forward as he wonders whether he could ask you something further, wether he could comfort you but there's a clear line of demarkation about what he can and what he can't ask you, with the latter being a longer list than the former one «... you could take the day off, if you need it...».

«that'd be nice but in the end of it all,it's my house that's the problem» you are deflecting although there's a partial truth in what you say: giving you a day, a week or a month off wouldn't change the fact that you are still mourning the death of your buddy.

maybe your own self is also mourning the life that you signed away as a devil hunter.

aki should tell you that the civilian sector would be the best fit for you, but as somebody who is pretty vocal about his involvement with public safety, he doesn't think that he has the right to tell you what to do; it'd make a hypocrite out of him.

«alright» let them go, aki, or the next person they'll lose sleep on, it'll be you.

you nod and go to be dismissed before stalling and something in aki is hopeful for once, although your question is anything but what he expects.

«do you... do you use an air freshener or specific perfume for this office?» aki's wide eyes are enough to get you to again feel embarrassed as you rushedly explain «I... I don't know why but this place... it smells... comforting to me».

you could have gone with any other adjective - good, fresh or exotic - but you stuck with 'comforting' and although aki should know better, he feels his heart skip a beat.

«I am... well, I am not sure» he does know that the cleaning ladies have left a few air freshener and diffusers throughout the time, mostly to kill the stink of the cigarettes stress-smoked inside but he can't quite place the clear smell «... maybe you could ask the cleaning ladies? maybe they know what they use in the offices to avoid the whole department stinking like a chimney».

you laugh. you genuinely laugh at his harsh comment, before nodding and with a swift 'I'll do, thanks' you are off, leaving aki to think whether you'll sleep alright tonight, although it isn't any of his business; you are part of his squad and that's it.

and if he stops by the cleaning ladies as he moves out of his office - after having worked overtime - to ask what they use to help his office stink less, he's doing it as a good squad leader.

he's being a good squad ladder even when he leaves a bottle of the specific essential oil on your desk the following day - he didn't wake up early and find a kombini just for it - arriving ahead of you and wondering whether you slept alright.

whether it's the perfume that smelled comfortingly or the fact that you were in his office.

[sunmoonjune]

raspberry leaves

pairing: poly!geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru [jjk au]

warnings: jjk au! geto doesn't defect and everything is happy :)) cursing, periods, severe cramps, painkillers and mentions of taking more than you're supposed to (three instead of two), lots of talk of pain, mentions of vomiting, passing out, panic, mentions of death, mentions of burning yourself, probably ooc megumi but he's a kid here (probably gojo too but I can't not write him soft), family au!, megumi tsumiki and the twins are here!, probably taking liberties on how gojo's technique works but oops, this is for the girlies with severe period symptoms :'), major hurt/comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: drops this and yells "scatter!" and disappears back into seclusion. I did not proofread this :)

Gojo Satoru has never woken up so terrified in his life. 

It’s a horrifying thing; to wake up lurching from your sheets as the love of your life cries out in panic just a few hours past midnight. For a moment, Satoru thinks he’s dying – or that he should be – because as he rips his sheets away from his legs, racing to his feet with his pulse already roaring in his eardrums, he turns to find Geto Suguru crumbling to his knees. The dark-haired man is the one who shouted, his hands fumbling to grasp another figure, their body limp and hanging useless in Suguru’s arms.

It’s your frame, clutched tight in Suguru’s big hands, that steals the breath from Satoru’s lungs. Ripping any semblance of oxygen right from his chest, the Six Eyes user is left stumbling on his feet to reach his spouses as they crumble to the floor – you limp in Suguru’s grip as you fall unconscious. 

Suguru shouts, a desperate cry of your name as he finally sinks to the bathroom floor, urgently scrambling to cradle your weight against him and support your figure. When he’s settled on the ground, a hand carefully cradling your face, Suguru looks up at Satoru, panic in his features and his heart in his throat. For a tense second, neither man speaks, too terrified to properly ascertain the situation. Then, Satoru chokes out a desperate question as he stumbles into the doorframe, clutching the wood until he swears it could splinter beneath his hands. 

“What happened?” 

But let’s rewind a moment, shall we? 

It starts two hours after midnight – well, it starts long before that, but it’s that moment you finally decide to pull yourself from the sheets and stumble into the bathroom. That moment, the one of shortened breaths and a weak whimper, is the one to incite the inferno that will wake Gojo Satoru in an hour or so. 

You’ve been awake for hours. Sleep was a stubborn thing; an obstinate, pig-headed bastard that wouldn’t allow you the mercy of relief even hours after you’ve been awake clutching your stomach and trying desperately not to cry. 

It’s agony. Beginning in your left side and rippling through the entirety of your stomach and down your legs, the cramping sensation seizes you with another tight fist and squeezes. It’s agony, and it’s been keeping you awake for hours. 

Your period is merciless. 

You’ve always had terrible cramps. That was a notion you had grown used to when you were young. Painkillers could only do so much, and you hated to have to take as many as you did just to function near normally. The first day of shark week was always terrible, but this? This was pure agony, and you were nearing your breaking point. 

It festered for hours in your stomach, sending cramps through your form in catastrophic waves and pushing against your belly until you thought you were truly going to die. The urge to use the restroom is horrible, but each time you drag yourself to the ensuite bathroom, you sit there as another wave of agony nearly pulls you to your knees. You’re sweaty and tired, figure quivering as another rippling cramp seizes your legs, and you’ve never wanted anything more than the sweet relief of slumber. 

Nothing seems to help. 

A hot water bottle is pressed against your stomach, the liquid inside near boiling as you clutch it against your bare skin – a bad idea, you know, but the sensation of the burn is nowhere near as terrible as the cramps. You’ve downed three painkillers a few hours ago, probably another bad idea, but you’re desperate now. 

You don’t want to wake Suguru or Satoru. It’s a Sunday night, and you know they both have work early tomorrow morning. They have to get the kids to school too. The four of your children always pile into one of your husband’s nice cars just a few hours past dawn. The kids get dropped off at primary school on their way to work, since it’s just around the corner from Jujutsu High. 

You can’t tear their few precious hours of sleep away from them. 

Not for this. 

There’s nothing they can do – nothing you can do but sit and try to ride out the waves of crippling agony until they finally stop. 

You’ve done this before. These cramps aren’t new. You can deal with them on your own. 

Can’t you?

But as you repress a broken sob, pulling yourself away from the silk of your sheets and into the bathroom once more, you’re not quite sure. 

When you reach the ensuite bathroom, another cramp surges through you and the tears you’ve been desperately withholding finally burst forth. Pressing your weight into the wall as the door slides shut, you click the lock and finally allow yourself to crumple. Your head pushes into your knees as you sob, trying to keep your cries quiet and muffled against your hand as the other clutches the hot water bottle against the throb of your stomach. 

You’re tired. You’re tired and you’re in so much pain that your fingers tremble and your legs shake. It’s awful, and you just want to sleep. 

But your uterus must hate you, because your stomach lurches and you scramble to lean over the toilet as you dry heave. You’ve never vomited on your period, but it sure does feel like you will. 

Your skin itches. From the sweat or the general grime, you don’t know, but you hate it. Your chest shakes with another sob and your fists squeeze tight as you whine out a horrible sound of agony. It’s too much and you wish it would just stop. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh out a choked sound as you curl into yourself. 

“Stop,” you whine brokenly, too defeated to even understand who you’re pleading to. “Please stop.” 

Geto Suguru wakes up a few moments later. 

He doesn’t know what pulls him from slumber at first. His brow furrows as consciousness returns, a deep breath leaving his nose as he sighs and takes in the feeling of body weight pressed into his chest. It’s a muscular figure, long and tall, so it must be Satoru. He’s pressed into Suguru’s stomach, body curled small in a near comical way as he attempts to tuck himself beneath Suguru’s chin. The long-haired man nearly huffs a chuckle as he pries open his tired eyes to see his partner. 

Suguru runs a loving hand over the mess of pale white strands that fall into Satoru’s eyes, his lips quirking upwards softly as he smiles. Satoru nuzzles closer in his sleep, letting out a happy sigh as Suguru runs his nails through the other’s undercut. Then Suguru shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly to find you as his hand reaches out to pull you closer.

But you’re not there. 

Suguru startles. Jolting silently as his heart skips a frightened beat, the sorcerer’s eyes rip open as they dilate. His hand finds an empty bed, the sheets cold and the imprint of your figure long lost. Suguru carefully untangles himself from his lover’s long limbs, his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he sits upright. 

“Baby?” his deep, tired voice rumbles in question. Where are you? He nearly asks, heart pounding in his chest. Are the kids okay? 

Suguru knew it was weird you had chosen to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. You’re usually more than happy to bury yourself in between them, cuddling close and nuzzling into their chests as you try to pull yourself even tighter into their embrace. 

But last night, you gently pushed Suguru into your place, offering him a wave of your hand and a lame excuse as to why you wanted to sleep on the outside. Something about not wanting to sleep yet, he remembers. 

He waits a moment, hoping you’ve just gotten up to use the restroom and you’ll return to them soon. The sound of Satoru’s quiet breaths echo through the space, and has to fill the long seconds by tracing his fingers over his lover’s back. Tracing gentle lines over the defined muscles, Suguru sighs softly and tries to calm his racing pulse. 

A minute passes. Then another. And one more – until Suguru isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting. 

Then Suguru cannot resist the swell of panic that ripples through his stomach. 

His heart lurches in his chest as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, too panicked to offer Satoru more than a hushed sound and a stroke over his back when he tiredly mumbles in protest. 

“‘M just gettin’ up for a sec,’” he mumbles quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees the light in the bathroom on. “I’ll be back, love.” 

Satoru grumbles something else, but is soothed when Suguru presses a gentle kiss to his brow. 

“M’kay,” Satoru sighs, easily falling back asleep as he snuggles into the warmth Suguru left behind on the bed. If he wasn’t so worried, Suguru would smile, his heart clenching tight in his chest as he watches Satoru curl into his spot with a soft sound. 

When Suguru stands, adjusting his sweats as he quietly makes his way to the bathroom, he pulls his hair from his eyes. Brushing the strands over his bare shoulder, he sighs as he fiddles for a hair tie in his pocket. He doesn't find one, so he simply pushes the dark strands back from his brow, letting them fall behind him and settle against his bare back. 

You’ve always liked it when his hair is loose anyway. 

Suguru knocks on the bathroom door first. It’s quiet, but you should be able to hear it. When you don’t respond, Suguru frowns and tries again. Knocking gently once more, he swallows as another wave of panic curls in his stomach. 

“Sweetheart?” he tries quietly, voice still rumbling deeply from the slumber he was pulled from. “You’ve been in there a while, honey. Are you alright?” 

Still, you don’t respond. 

You want to. Of course you want to. It’s Suguru, and you don’t want to worry him. 

But the waves of agonizing cramps have stolen your voice. All you can do is sit still and breathe. You feel utterly useless. There’s nothing you can do but control the slow pace of your breaths in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the crippling sensation radiating from your stomach. 

You want to respond – tell him you’re alright, tell him something, but the agony seals your lips shut. It’s horrible and another wave of tears spill from your tired eyes. You hate it. You wish you would stop crying; it’s not helping and it only makes you feel weak. 

“Baby? I’m gettin’ worried.” 

All you can manage is a sad, weak sound in response. It leaves your lips in more a sob than a hum, and you muffle the tears that shiver through you after. 

“Honey!” Suguru murmurs worriedly, trying to twist the handle of the door, only to curse when he discovers it’s locked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

He shifts on his feet, lifting a hand to pull on the strands on his hair to soothe some of his panic. The sound you manage in response is another broken hum, and it only worsens the thundering pulse of Suguru’s heart. His gut twists as he tries the knob again, as if a few seconds will have changed the status of the lock. 

You whine and Suguru swears his heart cracks. His head presses against the door as his eyes squeeze shut, fist still closed around the handle. 

“Can you open the door f’me, sweetheart?” he murmurs desperately. “‘M really worried about you.” 

Your eyes close, the watery burn rendering them useless as you sniffle. You huff around another breath of pain, pushing your head further into your knees. Trembling softly as your skin flushes, you battle against the waves of agony and the flash of heat that makes you feel sickly. Another wave of nausea ripples in your gut, and you remember how awful you must look. 

Your hair is plastered against your head and your neck and you must look a mess. Wearing a pair of oversized sweats and one of Suguru’s shirts, you feel utterly gross. More than anything you want to open the door and let Suguru take you in his arms. Cuddling into his firm chest and feeling his big arms wrap around you would probably feel nice, but you’re all too aware of how sickly you must look. 

You don’t want him to see you like this: sweaty, messy and sick as you curl in on yourself as you weep through another terrible cramp. You just want to sleep – you want it to stop, everything needs to stop. 

Suguru hums out another question, but you don’t really hear it. It’s not until you hear the lilt of panic in his voice and his voice fiddling with the handle of the door do you manage to find your voice. 

“Sugu…” 

He startles. Head darting up to the door in front of him, Suguru breathes a sigh of relief and chokes out your name. 

“Open the door, darling,” he whispers softly. “Please…” 

You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it. Frowning as you sniffle, you lick your lips to taste salt and the disgusting hint of snot. You’re a mess, and you don’t want him to see you. 

“No, Sugu,” you manage to mutter, head knocking back to rest against the wall as you continue to focus on breathing through your mouth. You visibly shiver through another cramp, this time seizing and whining as it echoes through your legs. 

Suguru bites down on his lip, feeling another sliver of his heart crack at the broken sound of your voice. It pains him, your defeated sigh. He desperately wants to comfort you, to bring you into his chest and kiss your tears away. His hands ache to touch your skin, to feel the warmth he knows by heart. Closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against the wood of the door, Suguru sighs and swallows as he speaks again. 

“Why not?” he murmurs worriedly, voice clipping words from fatigue pulling at his figure. “I need t’know you’re alright, my love.” 

“Don’t wan’ you t’see me.”

Suguru’s head tilts and the lump in his throat swells. Heart clenching sadly, one of his hands lifts to rest on the door, as if he can reach you on the other side if he tries hard enough. He knows he can get through this door if he really wanted. It would be too easy for him to splinter the frame with his strength alone, and he has more than one curse at his disposal that could pick a lock smoothly. 

It’s the sound of your voice that holds him back. 

You’re so… tired. You’re broken whisper echoes through the wooden door with a sad coo, and it makes Suguru’s chest ache. 

“My sweet girl…” Suguru whispers, fingers trailing across the wood like they’re desperate to stroke across your cheek. “Why don’t you want me to see you?” 

You frustratedly sigh, cursing the tears that continue to track down your cheeks. No matter what you do, they keep dripping over your skin in tiny rivulets, staining your face with tracks of dried salt. You wipe them away but they’re quickly replaced by another stream. 

You just want to sleep. 

“I don’t feel good, Sugu,” you sigh tiredly, voice quivering around tears. It’s pathetic – how watery you sound. You wish you were stronger. “I look bad and I don’t want wan’ t’keep you an’ Toru awake.” 

You don’t feel good? He nearly questions. Why didn’t you wake me? 

But all he does is sigh softly, fists clenching against the door. For a moment he contemplates waking Satoru, knowing you probably won’t be able to resist them both. Though, when he turns over his shoulder, Suguru sees the bags beneath his lover’s eyes and the tired slump of his form in their sheets. 

Satoru needs his sleep. It’s difficult enough for him to find slumber when the Six Eyes strains him dry. 

Suguru lets him rest. 

He murmurs your name again, his eyes closing as he continues to rest against the door. 

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Suguru sighs sweetly, his lips lifting slightly to reveal a fond smile. “You could never ‘look bad’ to me, my darling.” 

Shifting on his feet and looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders sag as he worries. What if you don’t open the door? He’s considering settling on the floor with his back against the door when he whispers again. 

“And you don’t need t’worry about keepin’ me awake, alright? I want you t’come to me when you’re not feeling good.” 

He pauses once, dropping his hand from the knob as he breathes. 

“I worry about you, honey,” he finishes. “I just need to know you’re okay.” 

You sniffle, feeling the cramp finally seep away to nothing. They’re not over, you can feel another wave rising from beneath the last, but at least they offer you a single moment to reach up and twist the lock. 

It’s too much for you to handle alone. 

You want to bury yourself in Suguru’s strong arms and weep as the pain shivers through you. If there’s nothing you can do to soothe the agony, then at least you won’t be alone. 

“Okay.”

Suguru hears the lock click. 

Gasping softly, he pulls himself upright and reaches down to grip the handle of the door with a skip of his heart. He was pondering waiting outside the door in the fading light of the moon when you whispered the tired word. His chest aches when he twists the knob, pulling the door open to reveal your figure.

You’re curled on the floor, calves crossed and legs pulled into your chest as you bury your head into your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself, one hand clutching the hot water bottle pressed tightly to your stomach. 

Suguru frowns, his heart thumping sadly as you weep out another broken sound. His entire body aches in a way he cannot describe, physically pained at the choked sounds of agony leaving your lips. He’s already on his knees at your side when you lift your head, looking up at him through your tears and your lip quivering in a way he knows you cannot control. 

He’s never seen you look so hurt. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he coos quietly, putting the pieces together as you shiver through another wave of crippling cramps, hand squeezing tight around your leg – your period. “You’re not alright.” 

“No,” you weep, shaking your head with watery eyes leaking salty droplets down your cheeks, and you suck in a shaking breath as your fists clench. Your brow furrows as your eyelids squeeze shut, unable to mask the pain as it ripples through you. Suguru’s face softens into an expression of pain, frowning sadly. You have a high pain tolerance for your period cramps – he knows that. You’ve had painful periods your whole life, and he and Satoru have seen you conceal the agony in your features for years. 

This is a knife to his heart. 

You can’t conceal the sweat on your brow, nor the tremble of your fingers and the painful gasp of breath you suck in when the pain returns tenfold. 

“It hurts, Sugu…” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, desperately wishing there’s something he can do to stall the agony. “C’mere, honey.”

Suguru’s mouth twists into an expression of pain, and he carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you away from the wall, the dark-haired man maneuvers you into his chest as he sits onto the floor. You twist into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his frame as you weep softly into his bare chest, caring little for the tears that stain his skin. Suguru could care less. He’s far too worried about the expression plastered onto your features and the shiver that trembles through you. 

“How long have you been up?” he whispers as he cradles you in his lap, hand stroking over your hair and strong arm wrapping around you. 

You shake your head and Suguru’s frown deepens – if it’s even possible. 

“Haven’t slept yet.” 

Suguru’s hair falls into his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss between your brows. He stays there, breathing through his noses as he continues to lay tiny kisses to your forehead. His eyes screw shut, hand stroking over your cheek as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. 

Your skin is warm, flushed with heat and your hair sticks to your forehead in a way Suguru knows must make you feel sickly. He carefully strokes the strands away and kisses the skin beneath with a soft sigh. 

“Have you been awake all night?” he finally whispers, voice deep and quietly sad. “With cramps like this?”

You nod into his chest, wincing again and closing your eyes as you sob through another agonizing cramp. Your legs shake as you tuck them into yourself together, trying desperately to push the hot water bottle deeper into your skin. 

“Oh, baby…” he sighs, leaning back to rest against the wall and pull you back into him. He strokes another hand across your face, thumbing the space between your brows when he sees the way they’re scrunched. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

You sigh and breathe a few times to steady yourself, slowly loosening your fists when Suguru pries your fingers open to intertwine his own around yours. He pulls your hands into his chest, tucking them by his heart so you can feel the pulse of his heart. He hopes you don’t notice how quick it’s beating. He’s still worried. Suguru cannot help the way his heart lurches when you wince. As if each throb of agony is his own, Suguru buries his face closer to your own, clutching onto your hand and not faltering when you tighten your grip to counter the waves of pain echoing through you. 

“You’ve got work in the morning,” you pant quietly, voice still watery and weak. “And you an’ Toru gotta’ take the kids.” 

“Honey…” he sighs sweetly. “You’re in pain… I want you t’wake me if you’re in pain, sweetheart. No amount of sleep could soothe me if you’re hurt and alone.” 

You manage a hum in response, face still screwed shut and Suguru frowns when you muffle another sob as a cramp seizes you once more. 

“Okay, baby… Okay,” he whispers, rocking you into him a little in an attempt to distract you. Now is not the time for a lecture, he supposes.“You’re alright, darling. You’re gonna be alright.” 

He hates the sound of your tears. 

When you shudder through another agonizing sound, Suguru’s face crumples. He’s never felt so useless. You’re in agony, and he can do nothing to fix it. 

“You took your painkillers?” 

You nod again, weeping into his chest and squeezing his hand tight. 

“Three,” you mumble tiredly, focusing on the feeling of Suguru’s warm, bare chest pressed against your skin. It’s grounding and you don’t want to move. “They aren’t working.”

“How long ago?” 

He doesn't want to pester you with questions, but he’s desperately pulling at strings, hoping one will grant him the solution to your pain. 

“Midnight,” you manage. You wince again, and Suguru peppers kisses along your hairline, gently hushing you. You curl tighter into yourself, desperately huffing as the pain continues to swell higher. It feels like it will break at any moment, but it just… doesn’t. The agony continues to rise, as if there is no limit to its torment. The cramping sensation just comes back again and again, until you’re sure that there’s something wrong. How can a period be so painful? 

“It hurts so bad, Sugu,” you cry, reaching the end of your tether. You’re desperate for the ache to stop, but it feels like there’s no  point of end in sight. “I just want it to stop…” 

Suguru feels his stomach twist, heart crying out in a pattern of your name. He pulls you tighter, a wave of his own tears swelling behind his eyes. Your cries chip at his heart, pieces of his soul falling apart in your agony. He wishes he could do something – use some kind of technique to null the pain, to soothe you, anything. 

“I know, honey,” he soothes, cradling you closer and rubbing his finger over your cheek as he murmurs into your hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry I can’t take this from you.” 

You shake your head, clutching him tight as you attempt to focus on your breaths again. Hand wrapped tightly around his own, you try to use his touch as a grounding sensation. Eventually, the lulling motion of his finger over your cheek and his lips at your hairline soothe some of the tension beneath your skin. You relax into his touch despite the continuous waves of cramps still panging through your stomach. 

“Just stay,” you weep, lifting your other hand from your stomach to clutch behind Suguru’s head. You hold onto his neck, burying your fingers in his soft hair and desperately inhale his familiar scent. Suguru is familiar – he’s safe. “Please…”

You don’t have to worry about anything as long as Suguru and Satoru are around. 

“Always, sweetheart,” he whispers against you, dropping the hand at your cheek to press your hot water bottle into your stomach for you. “Always. You don’t have t’ask.” 

 His large hand keeps your bottle in place, spreading across your stomach and rubbing soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. His hand is big enough to settle on your stomach and the fabric of your hot water bottle. 

Suguru hates this. He hates seeing you in pain. He hates that all he can do is sit and press delicate kisses to your hairline as you writhe in agony. It physically pains him to be unable to help – to have to watch as one of the loves of his life suffers. 

Suguru buries his nose into your hair and kisses you once more, whispering sweet words of encouragement and humming in an attempt to distract you. He loves you so much, and he hopes you know that. 

“You’re doing so well, my darling.”  

Eventually, the wave passes, and you limply release your intense grip on his fingers and relax into his hold. It’s a slow process. Finally succumbing to some brief glimpse of exhaustion, you slip loosely into Suguru’s hold and trust him to catch you. There will be another cramp soon, but at least this one is over. You breathe out a sigh and look up at Suguru with tears on your lashes. 

Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes, and Suguru has never looked more beautiful to you. Sitting on the bathroom floor with you three hours past midnight, no shirt and a loose pair of sweats on his hips (ones he’s not sure are his own), and Suguru has never looked so endearing. The way he looks down at you, bangs dangling in front of his dark eyes and full lips leaning down to kiss your face gently; he’s princely. 

Your heart finally slows to an acceptable pace as Suguru leans down, and you close your eyes as he lays a soft kiss to one of your eyelids. His full lips peck sweetly against one, then he leans away to kiss the other. Your eyes well with tears again, but this time you think they’re for a different reason. 

“Hi,” he whispers sweetly, lips lifting to show you that tiny smile of his that makes your heart do funny things. You’re too tired to offer much more than a sigh and a quirk of your lips, but Suguru is grateful for the expression all the same. 

“Hi, Sugu.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

You shake your head, sighing quietly as you shift.

“Not really.”

Suguru frowns again, and you’re tempted to lift your thumbs to pull his lips upwards again. Suguru looks so much prettier when he smiles. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers. “Do you wanna get off the floor, at least? The bed’s much more comfortable and Toru’s gonna start worrying soon.”

You figure now is the best time to try moving, so you nod. There’s probably only a few minutes between these waves of terrible cramps, so you’ll take the moment you have to get back into bed. 

“M’kay,” you sigh tiredly. Suguru's expression softens for a reason you don’t understand, but the sorcerer fondly smiles as he thinks of the same sound Satoru had made just minutes before. 

“Alright, love. Let’s get you up, alright?”

You nod again, allowing Suguru to unwind his limbs from yours. He softly chuckles when you whine as his fingers unlace from your own, but readjusts his grip to carefully pull you to stand. He holds his other hand out, tenderly helping you stand. 

“Careful…” he whispers. “Go slow, baby.” 

Your head spins as you stand and you lift a hand to press against your temple. The rolling tide of nausea in your stomach had quelled for the time being, but the tremble of your legs is still too apparent. You step forward shakily, reaching out to grasp Suguru’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He returns the look with soft eyes and nods sweetly as he allows you to step out of the bathroom first. 

When he’s certain you can stand on your own, Suguru turns over his shoulder to turn off the bathroom light and shut the door. 

But he only gets so far. 

Suddenly, you inhale sharply. Freezing in place, your body curls inwards on itself as a blinding swell of cramps overtakes your form. This one is sharp and crippling, radiating down your legs until even your calves feel weak. Your body is suddenly too hot, and the air is far too cold. Shivers trickle down your spine and you feel that all too familiar bolt of stifling panic strike through your chest. It runs through the entirety of your figure, sizzling beneath your skin and striking each nerve it passes. You feel that terrible curl of your stomach and the waves of oncoming panic filter through you.

You sway on your feet. 

Something’s wrong. And it’s making you panic. 

You open your mouth, lip quivering as you attempt to croak out a plea of Suguru’s name, but nothing comes. Some tired, broken whine leaves your lips instead – a desperate cry for help, for Suguru.

When Suguru turns around, head whipping over his shoulder sharply, he expects to see you headed towards his side of the bed. Instead, he’s met with your body swaying slightly as you pant and shiver. Suguru thinks his heart stops. 

Then your body stills, and you crumple. 

“Baby!” 

Suguru throws himself forward, just managing to grab your figure as it goes limp. He sways, shifting your weight into his arms and panicking as you continue to sink into the floor. Your body is dead weight in his hands, still shivering but cold and unmoving. 

He’s going to be sick. 

His stomach curls as bile spills onto the back of his tongue, and Suguru can hear his heart pound in his ears. The lump is back in his throat, swelling until he can barely suck in a desperate breath to calm his panicked heart. Fuck, he’s never been so scared. 

“Baby, oh fuck!” he cries, voice no longer quiet and delicate. Suguru openly shouts, desperately trying to carefully maneuver you to the floor, but his mind is screaming thousands of things at him at once. All he can hear is the roaring in his eardrums. His eyes scan over your limp figure and Suguru swears his heart cracks. He can feel it; deep within his chest, a splinter finally cleaves open. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Suguru chokes out, carefully cradling you as he sinks to his knees. “You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, honey.”

He doesn’t know what to do. His heart is pounding and his soul is openly weeping. There are tears welling in his eyes and dragging down the pristine skin of his cheeks. 

Suguru doesn't know what to do. 

“Okay,” he whispers frightfully. “Okay…”

You’re laying on your back, facing the ceiling, and the way your blank expression stares back at him makes him nauseous. 

“Sweetheart?” he calls carefully, brushing a hand over your cheek to push hair away from your face. “Baby, c’mon…” 

You don’t respond. There’s not even a twitch in your brow or a flick of your fingers. You’re unconscious. Suguru’s heart accelerates again, pounding until he thinks it might burst from his bony rib cage. He turns over his shoulder with a broken cry, calling for the one person he so urgently needs. 

“Satoru!” 

His voice is panicked, shouted with a guttural cry and he thinks it might echo through the house, but Suguru vaguely hopes he doesn't wake the kids. 

“Satoru, wake up!”

But Satoru is already awake. 

Lurching forward in the bed, the Six Eyes user is already throwing the sheets away from his legs as he scans the room. His technique is activated, and Suguru can feel the familiar curtain of Infinity wrap around his body. 

“Suguru?” Satoru calls as he stands, his body tense and prepared to fight. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Suguru doesn’t have the chance to respond, because Satoru steps forward and his crystalline eyes find his lover’s hunched figure crouched in the doorway of the bathroom, bent over the body of their wife. You’re limp on the floor, hair sprawled out beneath you as Suguru cradles your head and glances up at his partner with desperate, fearful eyes. 

Satoru thinks he’s dying. 

It’s the only possible explanation for the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the stuttered pulse of his heart. His legs wane at his knees, nearly propelling him into the floor, but Satoru manages to keep himself upright as he throws his hands forward to brace himself on the bathroom doorway. 

“What…?” Satoru whispers breathily, voice uncharacteristically quiet – uncharacteristically weak. “What happened?” 

His Six Eyes are activated, flickering over every crevice of your form. They’re urgent, desperate to find the source of your pain. When they find nothing, Satoru swallows back a sound of desperation. 

“She passed out,” Suguru whispers plainly, panic evident in the quiver of his voice. “She started her period early, Toru. She’s in so much pain…”

Satoru feels his knees wane again. His heart can’t take much more of this. She’s in pain? His soul cries. 

“She’s been laying on the bathroom floor crying,” his lover mumbles, stroking a hand over your cheekbone as a tear drips into his mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked her t’get up – she was weak and I didn’t think –”

“Suguru.” 

The dark-haired sorcerer stops. Lifting his head to stare up at Satoru, Suguru frowns. 

“This isn’t your fault, Suguru,” Satoru whispers, trying desperately to keep himself calm. His heart is in his throat and his pulse roars, but he cannot allow himself to weaken. Suguru needs him – you need him. 

“She’s not waking up…”

Satoru sucks in a breath, his hands curling into the doorframe and gripping the wood until he thinks it will splinter beneath his grip. And it might. Satoru has to be mindful of the strength he uses. 

‘She’s not waking up.’ The phrase echoes through his head until it’s the only thing he can process. You’re not waking up. His wife isn’t waking up. 

“Is she…” Satoru doesn't even know if he can say what he wants to know – what he needs to know. The words make him ill. “Is she breathing?” 

Suguru chokes out a desperate sound. He hadn’t even considered…

And he doesn't want to. 

His hand seizes one of yours, wrapping tightly around your fingers as he pulls it into his chest as he did before. He pleads for you to wake up and feel his heart pulse against your fingers again, just as you had minutes ago. He delicately thumbs over your pulse point, hand sliding down your neck where he cradles your cheek. 

Suguru openly weeps when the thumping beat of your heart races beneath his fingers in greeting. 

“Yeah…” he sobs out weakly, pushing his forehead into your chest. “Yeah, she’s breathing.” 

Satoru sags in relief.

“Okay,” he covers his mouth with one of his palms, trying to suppress the broken sound that nearly leaves him. “Okay, that’s good.” 

Before either man can ascertain what to do, there's rustling at the doorway. It’s a quiet sound, just a soft coo and the creak of the door as it slides open. Satoru’s head whips around, his fingers twitching to activate his technique when he falters. 

Because seven year old Fushiguro Megumi stands in the doorway: his son. 

Megumi’s clutching a plush dog, one that looks remarkably familiar to his Divine Dogs. The soft, dark fur is cradled in his hands as he hugs the stuffed animal to his chest. The plush nearly conceals him entirely, and his dark, spiky hair pokes out over the red mark on the dog’s forehead. It’s a matching toy – the dark one was a gift from Suguru while the white counterpart came from Satoru. They were presents (custom-made plushies) ordered by his fathers when Megumi successfully summoned his Divine Dogs for the first time. 

Satoru still whines when Megumi prefers the dark stuffed animal to the white one. But Satoru doesn't know that Megumi snuggles the alabaster-coated dog when he’s gone on long missions. The boy barely goes anywhere without it until his father comes home. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Megumi tiredly mumbles, one of his hands lifting to rub at his eyes as he yawns. His too big shirt, one of Satoru’s shirts from their youth, hangs over his frame and covers his knees. You were the one to tuck your son into bed last night, and Satoru doesn’t have the moment to fondly think of his boy asking to wear one of his dad’s shirts to bed. 

Satoru sucks in a quiet breath, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Suguru. His husband is still on the bathroom floor, bent over your unconscious figure, but he looks up at Satoru with a silent nod. He’s alright. You’re alright. 

Satoru sighs and turns back to Megumi, suddenly glad the ensuite bathroom is hidden from the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn't want Megumi to see his mother unconscious, or his fathers’ panic. He doesn’t want Megumi to see him scared. Satoru is his father – he needs to show his son that everything is going to be alright. 

Swallowing down his tempered fear, Satoru tries to conceal the quiver of his voice when he responds to his son. 

“It’s –” Satoru stops. He can’t say ‘it’s nothing.’ Because it’s not nothing; and he won’t lie to his son. “It’s alright, Megumi.”

That’s what he decides to say instead. Satoru breathes through his nose deeply as he tries not to turn back over his shoulder to check on you again. 

“Mama’s just having some cramps, she’ll be okay.” 

Megumi nods. He knows what Satoru means, because Geto Suguru would be damned before he raised a son that thinks menstruation was ‘gross.’ Megumi doesn’t know everything – he’s still a kid, afterall. He does know, however, that his mother is plagued with terrible pain once a month, and that it’s completely natural to talk about it. 

Megumi toddles on his feet, the fatigue of the early morning hour making him uncharacteristically soft. He’s usually quite stoic for a kid, exhibiting the same, blank sort of look impassively. But no matter how quiet, you and the boys are well-adept at deciphering your kid’s feelings by now. 

With sleep tugging at his eyes, Megumi paws at his tired lids and yawns sweetly. Shifting his balance again, the boy looks up at Satoru with a tiny, sweet frown.

“Mama’s hurting?” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out slightly. His fists tighten around his stuffed dog, eyes shifting around Satoru to try to get a glimpse of you. Fortunately, Suguru has already readjusted you in his arms and you’re both hidden in the ensuite bathroom. 

“Yeah…” Satoru coughs to conceal the tremor of his voice. “Yeah, Mama’s hurting a little. But she’s strong, remember? She’ll be alright, her cramps will go away soon.” 

He doesn’t know if his words are an attempt to convince Megumi or himself. 

 From behind Satoru, Suguru strokes another thumb over your cheekbone. He inhales a shaking breath as he feels the frightful warmth of your skin. 

“C’mon…” he whispers in the tiny space that separates you. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes again.” 

Swallowing thickly, Suguru’s throat bobs as a tear begins to leak down his cheek. 

“Please.” 

He’s lost. Suguru doesn’t know what to do other than count the seconds since you’ve gone still in his arms. Each one feels longer than the last, but Suguru continues to count them. He doesn’t know why he does it. Perhaps some part of him thinks there is a certain point at which he’ll need to call for help. Is there a distinct period of time that has to pass before you need medical attention? 

Suguru curses himself for not paying enough attention to Shoko’s basic first-aid lessons. 

Satoru’s head flicks over his shoulder, crystalline-blue eyes finding your face as his heart clenches again. He’s conflicted. More than anything, he wants to drop to his knees at your side, just as Suguru has. He wants to clutch your remaining hand and feel the pulse of your heart as a reminder that you’re still there – still breathing. His heart hurts; torn between lingering at your side and comforting his son.

But then Satoru remembers the way you look at your kids. He recalls the fond crease of your eyes when you beam down at them, smiles shining and hands drawing them into you for an embrace. You love your kids more than anything, even though you’ve only had them for a few years now. Even though they’re not your biological kids, even though they’re not babies, and despite not even wanting children before them; they’re your pride and joy. 

Satoru finds the strength within him to smile fondly. He knows you would be pushing him in Megumi’s direction if you had any semblance of consciousness right now. 

Satoru tries not to frown at the reminder of your state. 

Turning on his feet, Satoru steps away from the door, even as his heart cries out for him to return to your side. The remainder of his heart calls for his son – his boy, who is beginning to worry about his mother. It’s evident in the way Megumi shifts on his feet, fiddling with the soft fur of his stuffed pup. 

When Satoru drops to his knees in front of Megumi, he spreads his arms wide in an invitation. He doesn’t expect Megumi to accept; he rarely does. Satoru is affectionate, it’s a sentiment clear as day, and Megumi usually prefers to avoid physical touch. He’s shy that way. 

So Satoru is fondly surprised when Megumi toddles tiredly on his feet as he leans into his father’s embrace. Wrapping his arms tight around his son, Satoru stands from the floor with his heart beginning to return to a normal pace. Having Megumi in his arms is a comfort that soothes some of his rampaging nerves. The knowledge that the rest of his family is safe is a notion that eases some of the tension in his shoulders. Satoru knows he won’t find sleep for the rest of the night if he doesn’t peek into the girl’s room later to ensure they’re sleeping peacefully. 

“It’s alright, Gumi,” Satoru whispers softly, stroking a hand through the spiky strands of the boy’s hair. Megumi rests his head on Satoru’s shoulder with a sigh. “Why did you wake up so early, bud?” 

Megumi wraps an arm around Satoru’s neck, the other still cradling his pup between them. He closes his eyes and sighs sleepily once more as he mumbles in response. 

“Heard Dad yell,” he tiredly whispers. He fiddles with a strand of Satoru’s white hair before he sheepishly continues. “I was scared…”

Satoru tries his hardest not to tease the boy. He knows it’s in his nature to make light of situations with humor, but Satoru also understands that this, perhaps, is not the time. Despite wanting to make Megumi feel better by laughing off the problem, Satoru also remembers the horrible strike of panic that had bolted through him when he heard Suguru yell. 

Waking up to Suguru crying out for you as you collapsed was horrifying, and Satoru can only imagine how frightening it was for Megumi. 

“Oh Gumi, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers, rocking on his feet in an attempt to comfort the boy. Even though Megumi isn’t a baby, Satoru cannot help the instinctive sway of his feet as he runs a hand through his hair. “Dad didn’t mean to shout, pup. He was just worried about Mom.” 

Megumi nods softly, snuggling closer to Satoru’s chest in a way that makes the father’s heart ache. 

“Can I… Can I help?” Megumi quietly questions, words spoken only for his father to hear. “Mom always makes me feel better when I’m sick.” 

Megumi mumbles something else; something that sounds like ‘don’t wan’ mom t’feel bad,’ but it’s muffled into Satoru’s neck and he barely catches it. 

Satoru smiles despite the panic still roaring in his chest. The way Megumi calls you ‘mom’ and Suguru ‘dad’ has always made him a little emotional. It took more than a year for Megumi to truly grow comfortable in your makeshift family, but eventually the boy’s cautious exterior melted away into what he really was: a kid looking for a home – a family. He was abandoned for God’s sake, Satoru knows the kid was guarded when he found him. And he had every right to be. 

But in just a few short years, Megumi has begun to call Tsumiki and the twins his sisters and on rare occasions, he’ll call Satoru his father. However, he knows those nights will always end in Satoru smothering him with affections and playful teases so he refrains from doing it often. Satoru does not take offense; he knows Megumi is shy. 

“Yeah, she takes good care of us, huh?” Satoru murmurs fondly as he rubs a hand over his son’s back. 

Before Satoru can reassure Megumi further, he’s interrupted when Suguru lets out a relieved sound over his shoulder. It’s a strange sort of combination of a sob and a gasp, but Satoru hears it all the same. 

“Sweetheart…?” Satoru hears Suguru call, voice brighter but still wavering through the short syllables. 

There’s a muffled sound of shuffling, then a groan and a cough before Suguru is concealing his tears in your neck. 

Satoru exhales with relief, shoulders sagging as his eyes slide shut. He rubs a hand over Megumi’s back in the hopes the boy doesn’t see the fear slowly seeping from his father. 

Inside the bathroom, Suguru clutches your hand tight to his chest, squeezing it thankfully and burying his face in your neck as he bends over you. Blinking slowly, you huff a choked breath and shakily reach upwards to lay your palm over Suguru’s head. Tangling your fingers in the mess of loose, dark hair you sigh deeply through your mouth. It’s a relief to feel Suguru bent over you; his weight presses into your chest and grounds you as you come back to consciousness. Though you’re still dizzy and a bit panicked, the feeling is beginning to leech from your limbs like poison from a wound. 

Waking up was startling, and there’s a lingering sense of fear buzzing beneath your skin. It frightens you, and you clutch tightly onto Suguru with a tremble. The pain still twists in your stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how you felt before you passed out. 

“Suguru…” 

His name comes out in a sort of pleading cry, not unlike a frightened child, but you cannot help the way you long for his comfort. Tears leak from your eyes, another wave of salt that you find you cannot control. 

Suguru responds to your call with a sweet coo, pressing a wet kiss to the skin of your throat and rumbling deep within his chest to reassure you that he’s still there. Brushing your hair from your eyes, Suguru leans away to peck your temple and stare down at you with relief painted across his features. 

“You’re alright, honey. ‘S okay,” he whispers warmly, soothing the tension in your brow and brushing your tears away. When your eyes crack open, staring up at him with waning fear and confusion, Suguru huffs a laugh and smiles widely. “Hey, pretty girl.” 

 Your lips quiver upwards into a sort of sad smile, but Suguru is happy to see it despite the exhaustion in your features. Squeezing his hand, you look up at the dark-haired sorcerer as his hair falls into his eyes. 

“Wha’ happened?” 

Suguru looks over his shoulder, mouthing something you can’t hear, but you know he must be talking to Satoru. The muffled sound of his voice barely reaches your ears as you wade through the stream of your consciousness. You fight to keep Suguru in focus, and fortunately manage to cling to the waking world as sounds finally return to your senses. Something that sounds like “she’s alright, Toru,” rings through the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Satoru replying but you can’t hear it. Your heart calls out for your other husband, and you squeeze Suguru’s hand in question. 

“You passed out, darling,” Suguru looks back down at you with a sad smile. He hushes you when you wiggle, trying to sit upright. “Careful, love, careful. You scared the shit out of me, you know?” 

Shooting him a sorry glance, you allow Suguru to gently lift you to a seated position every so slowly. He leans you against him, his thick thighs on either side of your hips as he lets you rest against his chest. You nod slowly as he delicately pulls your hair from your face and wraps his arms around you. 

“Sorry.”

Suguru shakes his head with a hum. 

“Don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers. “I’m just glad you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? How’s the pain?”

You slouch into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist and nodding as your eyes slide shut. 

“‘S not so bad. Where’s Toru?”

Suguru’s heart clenches sweetly, feeling warmed by your desire for Satoru. He adores the two of you with his entire being, and watching both of you always strikes a fond chord within his chest.

“He’s taking care of Gumi,” Suguru murmurs, looking down at you with a lovesick expression you cannot see. When you sit up straighter, Suguru accommodates your position with a scooch of his hips and his arm falling into your lap. 

“Gumi’s awake?”

“Yeah,” your husband responds quietly. “I think he heard me shout when you fell. He came in a few minutes ago, and Satoru’s comforting him.”

Suguru sounds a little guilty when he mentions his outburst. He’s not embarrassed by any means; it was a cry shouted in overwhelming fear, so he feels no bashfulness for the tone of his voice. He does, however, feel guilty that he managed to wake his son in the process. 

“He’s worried about you, I think.”

We all are, he almost finishes. 

You sag into Suguru’s chest, weight sinking into the warmth of his bare skin as you slide your hand over the arm that is wrapped around you. Just as you begin to speak, Satoru peeks his head through the doorway. His body is twisted, obscuring Megumi’s view inside the bathroom. When he finds your gaze, Satoru visibly softens. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” Satoru rumbles, a fond smile spreading across his features. “You feeling alright?”

You nod tiredly, resting your head against Suguru’s clavicle.

“That’s good. We were really worried, honey.” 

Your sigh through your nose, trying to give him an apologetic look, but the fatigue is beginning to pull your eyelids downwards. Satoru’s gaze softens even further, if at all possible, and he continues. 

“Can Megumi come in? He’s worried about you,” Satoru reiterates his partner’s words, clearly holding the boy against his chest as he speaks. 

You’re about to nod, more than happy to cuddle with your son, when Suguru interrupts. Stroking a hand over your hip, the long-haired sorcerer hums. 

“Let us come out, love,” he responds, already beginning to shift you in his lap. “We can talk about this in bed. I think everyone’s a little tired right now.” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the ache of your muscles cry out for rest. Your arm trembles weakly when you lift your hand, and you frown at the lack of strength in your limbs. Suguru hushes you sweetly as he shifts you to sit upright as he stands. 

“You’re exhausted, baby. It’s normal.” 

Satoru murmurs his agreement on the other side of the doorway, already beginning to step away to set Megumi in the middle of your massive bed. He ensures the boy is comfortable as he stands upright, stretching his shoulders and turning to watch as Suguru hoists you up onto his hips slowly. Satoru figured he wasn’t going to let you walk after what happened the first time you tried. 

Suguru’s hand is carefully cradling your head and the other wraps beneath your hips, keeping you stable and pressed against his big frame. The sorcerer is incredibly strong from the years of exorcizing curses and teaching students, so carrying you to the bed, despite your muffled protests, is an easy venture. 

Setting you on the bed gently, you shift quickly to face Megumi as you lay back against the sheets. You nestle quickly into Suguru’s previous place in bed, already reaching out for your son as he nuzzles forward to latch onto your front. 

“Hey, hun,” you whisper kindly, brushing dark strands from Megumi’s eyes. “What’s going on, Gumi?”

The boy looks up at you, still clutching his Divine Dog plush, and frowns. Your head tilts in confusion, and you watch as Megumi makes himself comfortable in your arms, cuddling close to your stomach and closing his eyes. You don’t protest, heart warming sweetly as the boy snuggles close. He doesn’t usually cuddle like this, so you’ll take every opportunity to hug him as you can. 

“Dad said you’re feeling bad,” he mumbles into the stuffed dog now pressed between you. “‘M gonna make you feel better. Like you do when I’m sick.” 

You smile. Heart full, your eyes slide shut as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the tired boy’s forehead. He mumbles something else, but he’s fading fast. Soon he’s lost to slumber, and he snoozes peacefully in your embrace. 

“Thank you, Megumi,” you whisper as you press another soft kiss to your son’s forehead. Looking up at Satoru with tears brimming in your eyes, you find the white-haired sorcerer is already looking at you. There’s fondness spilling from his smile and a sweet gentleness in his expression, and he looks utterly lovesick. 

“Hey,” Satoru murmurs. 

“Hi.” 

The Six Eyes user steps away for a moment, nodding at Suguru who whispers that he’s going to step out to get you water and your medicine. Satoru knows he’s also going to check in on the girls, so he gives Suguru a smile and a peck on the cheek as he slides around the bed to your back. 

When Satoru climbs into the silken sheets, he immediately presses his bare chest into your back and wraps his strong arms around you and his son. Pressing his soft lips to the nape of your neck, he pulls you and Megumi into his chest as he relaxes. You feel the familiar tingle of Infinity wrap around you and smile tiredly. Satoru is always protecting you and your family. The technique easily wraps around you and Megumi in addition to Satoru, and you know the sorcerer will easily adapt it to cover Suguru soon too. 

That’s just Satoru; he’s always looking out for his family. 

When you sigh deeply and snuggle back into your husband, Satoru presses another gentle kiss to your neck and you feel him shake. 

“Toru?”

The man shivers again, and when you shift, turning slightly to see his face, your face crumples as you find tears leaking from Satoru’s eyes. He looks utterly relieved, but his mouth still twitches in a sad sort of way and his sky-blue eyes shimmer with salty tears. For all his silly teasing and childlike humor, Satoru rarely looks so… scared. He’s always so strong – the strongest. But there are truly rare circumstances in which Gojo Satoru is confronted with true fear. 

Circumstances in which he remembers how vulnerable his family can be. 

“Oh, Satoru…”

Satoru buries his face in your neck again, concealing his tears as he calms down. 

“I was so worried, baby. Oh my God,” he mutters into your skin. “I woke up and you were on the floor and Sugu was crying…” 

You pull his hands tighter around you, careful not to wake Megumi. Stroking gentle circles into the muscle of his forearms, you coo a soft sound to soothe him. 

“‘M alright now. Just a little bit of pain, it’s mostly gone.”

Satoru nods, clinging to your back as he finally grounds himself through the gentle touch of your fingers on his skin. He pulls you closer, seeming as though he’s trying to fuse his body to yours with how tight he binds himself to you. It’s the soft contact of your skin against his that soothes the beat of his heart and loosens the tension of his muscles. The tingly feeling that lingers on his skin where you press into him leaves trails of prickled nerves in their wake, as if physical contact between your bare skin incites a biological reaction beneath his flesh. 

With you in his arms, tightly wrapped in his embrace where he can feel the pulse of your heart against his chest, Satoru finds serenity. 

You’re here. And you’re safe. 

Satoru chews on his lip as he sighs. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking his chin into your neck and dropping a hand to rub his palm over the side of your stomach. It’s uncanny, you think, that he already knows exactly where it hurts without you mentioning it. Satoru pays far more attention than people give him credit for. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to take it away.” 

You shake your head, fatigued eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of Satoru’s big hands and the gentle circles he massages into you. 

Satoru continues in a voice uncharacteristically weak for the Strongest. 

“You were… alone and in pain,” he mumbles, guilt seeping into his tone as he frowns. “And I didn’t even know – we didn’t.” 

Satoru carefully pulls your hair away from your neck to press a kiss to your bare shoulder and then one more against the skin of your throat. He inhales a wave of your familiar scent and flutters his eyes closed as he sinks into your back. 

“I don’t want you to suffer alone, my love.” 

You stroke a contemplative finger over his arm, humming quietly as you shift Megumi in your arms. 

“Okay, Toru,” you whisper as you find the mirth in your exhausted figure to tease him. “You want me to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn when I’ve got cramps?” 

Satoru muffles a small chuckle into your neck and you enjoy the feeling of his chest shaking with the feeling. 

“Yeah, baby. Even then. Especially then.” 

You huff a breath of laughter through your nose, only stopping when you swiftly inhale as another cramp seizes your abdomen. It’s strong, but nothing like the ones you were having earlier. You can manage these. Satoru leans up on his elbow when you stiffen, lifting his other hand to check the hot water bottle Suguru had returned to your stomach. 

When Satoru pulls the bottle away, his brow furrows and he hisses when he finds faint hints of inflamed skin where you’ve pressed it too tight to your belly. It’s too hot and too close, he realizes. It’s burning you. 

Satoru nearly sits upright quickly, his frame leaning over yours as he gasps faintly. 

“Honey…” He’s on the verge of scolding you, but he sees the way you wince through another cramp and decides against it. Satoru looks back down at the hot water bottle and the way you clutch it tightly to combat the waves of throbbing in your belly. 

“This is burning you,” he states it obviously. 

“Hmm,” you respond in agreement. “Feels nice.” 

Satory looks down at you with pain in his features, face twisted into a frown and his crystalline eyes a shade duller. 

“Baby, it’s hurting you – How can…?” 

Satoru trails off. He thinks about how terribly you must have been aching to continue pressing something that was burning you into your skin. How agonizing were your cramps that the pain of the burn was comforting? 

Satoru lays back down, a frown on his lips as he wraps his arm back around you and lays his palm over the hot water bottle. If you’re going to keep it pressed into your skin, then he can make sure it doesn’t get too warm by leaving his hand against it.

“My god, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He can’t even comprehend how agonizing this must be for you. Satoru kisses your nape again. He apologizes again, and you almost miss the silly Satoru who would typically be teasing you right now. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.” 

You yawn, finally feeling exhaustion begin to drag you beneath the slow, rocking waves of slumber. Pushing yourself deeper into your husband’s embrace and squeezing your son tight once more, you sigh out a few more words before you finally sink into sleep’s warm hands. 

“You are doing something,” you murmur, pulling his hand up to your mouth to kiss it tiredly. “You’re here, Satoru. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.” 

When Suguru climbs back into bed on Megumi’s other side, he kisses the fond smile on Satoru’s lips and teases his partner about the stars in his eyes. The crystalline-eyed sorcerer refutes Suguru’s quip by reaching out to gently slap his bicep, but it’s all in mirthful adoration. Suguru leans over to press a tender kiss to your sleeping brow and then one to his son’s, before he settles behind Megumi and sighs contentedly. 

“She’s sleeping?” Suguru whispers, voice barely carried through the quiet night. He stares down at your face, the peaceful expression on your lips far more comforting than the limp, placid look of unconsciousness he remembers. Satoru watches his husband watch you, adoration swelling in his heart like an ebbing tide. Unbound by all but the moon, Satoru swears his heart only grows fonder each time he truly takes in his partners. 

“She’s sleeping,” he confirms sleepily, still staring up at Suguru with warmth in his chest. 

“Good.” 

Suguru’s response is sighed out thankfully, his shoulders deflating with the tension easing away from his muscle. He wraps his arms around Megumi and pulls himself closer to the boy, smiling when he easily cuddles into his father. Not often does Suguru have the opportunity to snuggle his son, so he eagerly grins as Megumi’s sleeping form curls near. 

“She’s early,” Satoru mentions plainly from across Suguru. “She wasn’t supposed to start until next week.”

The dark-haired sorcerer nods, recalling the date he marked in his phone. He and Satoru both kept track; it was easier that way. At this point, though, Suguru is certain he doesn't need his calendar to know these things. Your anniversary is ingrained in his memory, as is every one of your important dates. The three of you have spent more than a decade together, this kind of instinct was certain to develop at some point or another. 

“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. He twists slowly to glance tiredly at the clock on his bedside. “She took some painkillers at midnight, can you write that down? If she wakes again she can take some more.” 

Satoru nods, a hand already reaching for his phone on the nightstand behind him. It was second-nature to jot down the time you took medication. You always tried to keep track yourself, but sometimes noting the time slipped your mind, and you were left trying to recall the last time you took them. Satoru easily adds the time to his notes, and marks the date in his calendar to adjust your future schedule later. He checks that there’s still a bottle of your preferred painkiller in his nightstand drawer and a granola bar to eat when you take them. 

When he sets the phone down, he looks back over at Suguru, who sleepily stares down at your sleeping face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but Satoru can see where Suguru has slid his around yours, pressing two of his fingers into the pulse point of your wrist. 

He’s counting your heartbeats – making sure you’re still breathing. Because Suguru remembers the way you crumpled all too clearly. 

Sighing a shaking breath as he familiarizes himself with the gentle thump of your lifeline, Satoru slides a hand around you and his son, and he lays it across his lover with a sad smile. Suguru looks up with tired eyes, the dark bags beneath his lashes barely visible in the night hour. They match the ones beneath your eyes and probably Satoru’s too. 

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles. “She’s alright, Sugu.” 

Suguru nods, finally sinking into the mattress and pressing a final kiss to Megumi’s hair as he makes himself comfortable. Satoru does the same, delicately squeezing the hand still wrapped around yours and cradled sweetly at your chest. 

“We’re alright,” Suguru confirms, eyes finally sinking closed as he falls back asleep with part of his family in his embrace. “We’re alright.” 

In the morning, you awake to two Divine Dogs guarding the foot of your bed. The white one sits with its side pressed against the dark one, and both face the bedroom door. You awake alone in bed, but you can hear distant voices quietly chatting in the hall. The little pups’ ears are perked upwards, diligently listening to the conversation outside. 

When you sit up, the white one flips his head over his shoulder, happily sticking his tongue out in a joyful expression. He pants and his tail thumps against the floor as you beckon him closer. 

“Good morning, pup,” you laugh as it wiggles excitedly when you scratch behind his ears. The dark-coated one quickly follows soon after, eagerly joining his brother for scratches. “What are you two doin’ here?” 

The pups tilt their heads with that silly, tongue-out expression, as if communicating their eagerness. You stifle your laughter and carefully stand from the sheets, making your way into the kitchen with the dogs on your heels. 

When you enter the living space, you find Suguru on the couch with the twins on either side of his lap. They’re eagerly leaning over one of Suguru’s books, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves as their father reads aloud. It’s one of his novels, and you chuckle knowing that the girls were probably the ones to pick it out for him to read. 

Tsumiki is at the table, leaning over some kind of puzzle, and her brother is at her side. She looks up as you come in, offering you a gentle smile and a nod before she goes back to her puzzle. Megumi sits on his knees in the chair, spiky hair unkempt as always and a look of concentration on his face. 

Before you can speak, Satoru is pressed against your back, greeting you with a gentle hum.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” he coos, pecking your cheek and sliding a croissant into your hands and holding a glass of water in his other. “Eat up. You can take some medicine when you’re done.” 

He always makes sure you eat before you take your medicine. Your heart thumps happily beneath your ribs, and you smile in return, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and thanking him. 

“Thanks, love.” 

Satoru hums and slides his free hand over your waist to squeeze your hip. He opens his mouth to say something, but the twins interrupt him. They gasp, standing from Suguru’s lap and eagerly racing over to greet you. 

Suguru chuckles, but still gently chides them as they race into the kitchen. 

“Careful!” 

Nanako and Mimiko crash into your hips with eager sounds, each grabbing you around the waist and crying out.

“Mama!” They cry worriedly, scrambling to hug you as they bury their faces in your legs. They start pushing you towards the couch with little hands, earnestly murmuring things you cannot make out. You look up at Satoru with a confused furrow of your brow, and your husband only chuckles and holds his hands up in a gesture of ‘i’ve got nothing to do with this.’ 

When you reach the couch, the girls scramble to make you sit beside Suguru, who is all too eager to wrap an arm around your shoulders to accommodate your arrival. 

“Good morning,” he hums as he pecks your temple. 

Nanako is already sliding a blanket into your lap as Mimiko climbs onto the couch, depositing herself at your side and snuggling into you. 

“Good morning,” you respond, watching with a fond smile as the girls make themselves comfortable in your lap. “What’s all this?” 

Suguru chuckles, reaching out to gently ruffle Nanako’s hair as she smiles. The girl looks up at her father with a beaming grin and snuggles closer to you when you wrap an arm around her to keep her stable. Your husband leans closer with a smile, murmuring quietly for only you to hear. 

“Megumi told them you were sick last night,” he fondly whispers. “I think it worried them.” 

Your head tilts in an expression of tenderness, and you give Suguru a knowing look before you lean down to kiss both your girls on the forehead. 

“Good morning, girls,” you rumble happily. “I’m alright, sweethearts. Megumi and your dads took very good care of me.”

Mimiko wiggles closer, snuggling into you and her sister with big, worried eyes. 

“Really?” her tiny voice murmurs. “Megumi-nii said you were hurting.” 

You can almost hear the pout in her voice without looking down at her. Giggling happily, you stroke a hand over her head and squeeze her close. 

“He even brought out his puppies!” Nanako quickly adds, squirming as he attempts to find the two Divine Dogs. “He said we couldn’t come in to see you because you needed to rest.” 

The two Shikigami have already returned to their owner, sitting on either side of Megumi’s chair with wagging tails and their tongues still sticking out. The boy is absentmindedly petting one while he focuses on the puzzle, shyly avoiding your gaze as if embarrassed. 

Your heart clenches sweetly again, and you turn to look at Satoru with a knowing smile. The sorcerer returns the look as he steps into the kitchen for your painkillers, ruffling Megumi’s hair as he goes. The boy lets out a muffled sound of discontent, but he doesn’t fix his messy strands. 

“Did he? That’s very sweet of him.” 

You and Suguru do not mention the faint pinkness of Megumi’s round cheeks. 

When you lean into Suguru’s side, the croissant in your hand warm like your lover’s body heat, you sigh happily. The cramps are a faint memory now, even though you know they’ll return soon. For now, you can savor the warmth of your family. 

“You’re taking the day off then, I suppose,” you look up at Suguru with an arched brow. Suguru smiles, leaning his head into yours to rest there. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, cuddling close to you and the twins. “We all are.” 

You suppose you can deal with the consequences of their unscheduled departure from work and school later… You’re far too warm and content now. When Satoru returns, sliding a glass of water into your empty hand and two painkillers into your other, he patiently waits as you take the pills. Then he sets the glass on the side table beside the mug of raspberry leaf tea he brewed for your cramps,  and then he eagerly dives into the limited space left on the couch. 

Scrambling into the twins’ space, Nanako and Mimiko giggle happily as Satoru presses kisses over their faces and squirms onto the couch. He plops Mimiko into his lap so he can sit at your side, laughing when the girls squeal happily. As you settle, you see Megumi look up from the table, shyly glancing away from his sister. Tsumiki gives him a knowing look as she climbs from her chair and eagerly walks over to Suguru. 

Suguru is too happy to allow her the tiny portion of space on his other side, and Tsumiki slides onto the couch, her side pressed tight to Suguru’s. She offers you a good morning and laughs when the twins attempt to squirm away from Satoru’s tickling fingers. 

Eventually Megumi stands from his place at the table, looking over at the couch as he debates something internally. A moment later, he stands in front of Suguru, shyly shifting on his feet as he looks at the only empty space on the couch. 

Megumi doesn’t need to say anything, because Suguru is already lifting the boy into his lap with a smile. Saving his son the embarrassment of shyly asking for the affection he usually avoids, Suguru chuckles as he deposits the last member of his family into his lap. 

“We could all use a day off,” he murmurs into your temple as he kisses you sweetly. 

You sigh happily, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and the laughter of your family. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

The moment is only interrupted when Megumi’s Divine Dogs, only pups at this age, launch themselves onto the couch, eager to join the snuggles. The seven of you dissolve into laughter as you try to maneuver the excited puppies, and you can’t ask for anything else. 

“Megumi!” You laugh, trying to brush white dog hair from your face. “Control your summons!” 

The boy only laughs happily as the dark-coated puppy wiggles into his lap. 

No, he doesn’t think he will. 

bonus:

gojo, looking down at reader and geto: you're so cute and pretty

reader, sleepily: I could beat the shit out of you

geto, nodding along: she could

gojo, lovingly: I know

a/n: no I am not back to writing just yet :')) I wrote this in a pain induced haze while having some terrible cramps so if you have terrible periods like me, this one is for you! this is purely based on my experience with cramps, and everyone is different, but I just wanted to write something for me :") I've never passed out but I've felt like it and I know it's super scary so I hope this can provide some comfort for you if you need it <3

ALSO this was written as comfort for jjk 236 :'))) bc everyone in this fic deserved better and I refuse to acknowledge canon

[rileysluvr]

something really short cause i have nothing else. könig nsfw

just imagine a situation where you’re forced to sit on könig’s lap because there’s less room than needed on the small military aircraft due to a field emergency, so you opt for his space because he’s the closest person to you out of the bunch and not to mention the largest, kindest, most comfortable looking one. he’s so hesitant at first but it’s all kept internal because he could never say no to you, let alone stand to watch you on another man’s lap for the next two hours. he begins to question if he prioritized the correct things, however, when he ultimately fails at suppressing his hard-on after just barely managing for the first half hour of the flight.

you feel his dick practically digging into your ass through the multiple layers of cargo pants, and he knows his prayers for discretion have gone unanswered when you adjust your hips against his lap. the feel of it surprises you—you want to laugh, why now?—but the entire concept of it does not come as a shock; it only nourishes the given cockiness in you. you’d have to be a blind mutt not to notice the way he looks at you, shying away when he thinks you’ve caught him staring. silly guy. the hood doesn’t hide all, könig.

“scheiße, du schweinehund,” he breathes defeatedly to himself, eyes squeezed shut in humility. he’s the only mutt here, really. he can’t imagine how pink his cheeks have gone, except for the fact that they feel like they’ve been repeatedly grazed by a blowtorch you hold. he musters up a straight voice, yet his words just barely break past a whisper; “…forgive me.” he grits his teeth and bites his tongue, “gott—i am not in the correct headspace right now, i-i am so sorry.”

you giggle that same laugh that had his knees threatening to buckle in on most days. “it’s okay, könig, really,” you tell him, so convincing and so sweet that he has no choice but to believe it to be true. still, he’s beyond mortified. you hum after a few seconds, “more than okay.” he sucks in a sharp breath. you don’t need to see him to know what sort of affect you’re having on him, arms crossed over your chest while his are unsteady and sweaty at his sides. he’s so awkward, it’s adorable.

like this, you can truly absorb all of him like you never could on an average day; he’s soft spoken off the field and with a deeper drawl, and far more reserved. that manly, post-mission musk of his, apparent through the close proximity, is only insanely attractive. and he’s just so. fucking. big. you lean further back against his frame, head resting on his broad shoulder, and you can feel his heart beating at his ribs against your upper back. with everyone else chatting amongst themselves or already deep into their sleep, you wouldn’t mind teasing him a bit.

“i actually think it’s really cute,” you add, with another slight of a giggle, of course. “and hot.” you bite and bite and he groans so lowly every time, something almost of a broken whimper, you’d say. you wiggle your hips a bit, not terribly noticeable to the outside world but he swears your every action comes with a bite of an aphrodisiac. you smirk and he hears it, right past the nonchalance in your voice; “and quite impressive, i’d say.”

you hear a whine die in his throat—it’s fucking whorish, and needy—along with another swear, and in an instant, you’ve made up your mind to take him out of the public eye once you land and show him just how impressive he really is.

[incognit0slut]

Buried in the pillow

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A night of restless sleep ends better than expected. Based on;

warning: 18+ explicit content including edging, a little chocking, sexual intercourse, and dom spence

words: 4,6k (I got carried away😭)

a/n: am I supposed to be writing something else? Yes. Will it stop me from writing a slow, lazy sex scene? NO

MASTERLIST

“…you’re buried in the pillow, yeah you’re so loud…”

THERE WAS NO DENYING THE WARM FLOOD OF AROUSAL RUSHING IN HER SYSTEM. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse throbbing through her entire body. She readjusted herself along her pillow and closed her eyes before exhaling, her thighs pressed together as she tried not to let her mind travel into any lewd thoughts.

But the sound of his shallow breathing was enough to make her terribly aware of the abrupt shift in her body. She could feel the dull, needy throb between her legs merging with that burn of sheer want for him low in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open then, and there he was, sleeping on his side of the bed with his face facing toward her.

Spencer looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing along his cheeks, and his mouth slightly parted while his chest rose in a steady rhythm, a sign of him in complete slumber. She had seen the drowsiness in his eyes the moment he walked through the door this evening, the fatigue clumped in his shoulders as he kissed her in greeting. It had been days since the last time he had proper sleep, having to travel across the country for a recent case, and today he finally had the chance to rest his bones from all of the work.

But it also meant it had been eleven days, fifteen hours, and forty-six minutes since the last time she had him buried deep inside her...

Not that she was counting.

Fine—maybe she was. Maybe she was keeping up with their time apart because being with him was something she looked forward to, in and out of the bedroom. How could she not? He was her partner; her smart, caring boyfriend who she loved too damn much and would do anything to bide the time relishing in his presence.

Although tonight she did have a specific activity in mind, which now seemed more like wishful thinking considering he was already deep in slumber. He needed the sleep, she reminded herself. He was simply tired and he needed all the rest he could get.

Swallowing hard, Y/n tried to push her desire back down. She turned over, laid back down on her back, and let her eyelids fall back down as she settled her arms to her side. But the position was too uncomfortable. She let out a groan and shifted again, hips moving along the bed a few times before she finally stopped.

The feel of something shifting woke Spencer up, his mind slowly stirring awake. A soft sigh escaped him as he lay silently, his mind quieted in the stillness of the night. Then his breathing evened out a moment later, exhaustion of the past few days took over before his eyelids lowered, body drifting back to sleep. Except for a little bit later, he heard more rustling along the pillow, a soft, feminine sound of frustration barely ringing in his ears. This time he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting himself in the dark.

The first thing he noticed was a mass of hair laid in front of him, then bare arms and a slender body clad in a silky nightgown. There was silence as he tried to pick up her breathing, watching her back move steadily in the poorly lit room. When another exasperated sigh escaped her, Spencer inched closer and reached out, an arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer toward him.

"Hey," he softly murmured, concerned about her constant movements in her sleep. "You alright?"

Y/n stopped herself from letting out a moan. On normal occasions, being pressed up against him in bed would lull her to sleep, the comfort of his arms provided an immense amount of warmth and safety. Definitely not tonight. The way his arm tightened around her, tugging her back into his solid chest awoken that part of her she tried to suppress. The heat of his body enveloped her and she found herself leaning back, accepting the warmth he was offering.

"Hmm," her returning hum answered, sinking deeper into his embrace.

"Bad dream?"

She stopped herself from snorting. She couldn't even get a wink of sleep and here he was, concerned about the possibility of her having nightmares. But it was a better reason than to admit why she couldn't rest her eyes, so she nodded, her voice slightly breathless as she whispered, "Something like that."

The silence in the air after her reply was jarring. If Spencer was half-awake before, he was fully awake now, the rasp in her voice far too familiar for him to ignore. And when he finally regained his consciousness back, he became highly aware of his surroundings. The soft mattress underneath him, the plush pillow below his head, and the soft curves pressed against him.

He could feel her body trembling underneath his palm, her breathing picking up its pace as his fingers glided along her stomach. He could practically hear the sound of her heartbeat as he pulled her even closer, his head shifting along her shoulder, his nose brushing against the back of her neck. The subtle fragrance of flowers and honey filled his nostrils as he breathed in her scent, nuzzling further into her, the stubble of his jaw grazing along her skin.

"Spence," she muttered, tilting her head into the pillow. "What are you doing?"

"You seem to be having trouble sleeping." She felt the bed shift behind her as he moved again, and then a moment later she felt him pressing his hips into her ass. She let out a gasp. "I'm helping you relax."

She felt something pleasantly warm grazing her neck, his lips moving deliberately slow, as if he was in no hurry and only wanted to savor the taste of her skin. His hand then slid further up her stomach, palm flat as it dragged up her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It eventually stopped its roam, halting its search when he cupped her left breast tenderly.

She couldn't stop the strained moan from slipping out of her mouth. "Sleep isn't exactly on my mind right now."

"I figured," he murmured beside her ear, his hot breath drawing goosebumps along her skin. "How long have you been awake?"

His hand gently kneaded her breast as his mouth traveled along her neck. Her eyelids lowered slightly, a wet heat forming between her thighs as her arousal intensified. "I haven't slept."

"And why is that?" A finger brushed across her nipple through her thin nightgown. She suppressed a helpless whimper as his thumb circled around the nub, caressing it so gently she could feel her body shaking with need. "Go on." He tugged on her nipple between his fingers. "Use your words."

"I..." She felt his tongue softly grazing her skin before he wrapped his mouth around her flesh, sucking on the spot. What was she to say? That she was too aroused to relax? She carefully weighed her words, feeling bashful verbalizing her thoughts, so she finally settled with, "It was too hot."

He hummed in response, somehow acknowledging the meaning behind her words. She watched as his hand left her breast, sliding up her bare arm before it settled on the strap of her flimsy sleepwear. He gently tugged down the thin string as his mouth lowered towards her shoulder, languorously trailing kisses down the line of it. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we?"

She couldn't think clearly when his touch sent her into a whirlwind of chaos. To crave something was one thing, to actually acquire that craving was an entirely different thing. She had wanted to feel him so much, but as his hand trailed back to her now-exposed breast, her mind was in a mess of desperate longing and need. Somehow his mouth trailing on her neck wasn't enough. Somehow his callused fingers stroking her nipple wasn't enough. She needed to feel every inch of his body on her. She wanted all of him.

More, more, more.

"Spence," she breathed out, her hoarse voice hanging in the air.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Tell me." His grip on her nipple tightened, and she shuddered at the sensation. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she answered in a daze. "I want you."

"What do you want me to do?" He gently bit her flesh. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Do you want me to touch you, relax the tension in your body?" Then her heart sped up in her chest, slamming roughly into her rib cage at his next words.

"Do you want me to fuck you to sleep?"

A strangled whimper left her mouth. Spencer was a lot of things in bed. When they had first been together, he was so timid and unsure of himself, too caught up in his thoughts that left him too afraid to touch her—which she honestly hadn't minded, she loved being the one who saw his transformation in the bedroom. But when he finally started to loosen up and be himself with her, exploring things he wanted to try, to finally take control? It drove her absolutely wild to experience him gain his confidence it made her weak in the knees every damn time.

Like this side of him now always managed to render her speechless. Perhaps it was the way he was so poised and calm outside the bedroom, a very different demeanor when he was alone with her, that made it all seem so overwhelming. In the safety of their bedroom, he was everything he desired, and being crude and demanding was what he decided to be this night.

His hand caressing her nipple slid up her chest, his fingers gently wrapping around the base of her neck. Her breath hitched as he softly gripped it, pulling her even further into his chest. "Tell me, is that what you want?"

She was breathing even heavier now, her shoulders heaving with each audible inhale. "Yes."

He bit her earlobe, evoking another breathless shudder out of her. "Explain it in words, I need you to speak to me."

Y/n enjoyed the sweet, gentle way he made love to her. She really did. Very, very much so. But there was a certain enjoyment whenever he was in control. Whenever he let himself go and have his way with her—crass words over sweet nothings, rough stokes over soft touches. It burned her skin and gripped onto her arousal, waking up the submissive side of her which she enjoyed more than she should probably have.

Spencer's grip tightened at her silence. "Are you not going to answer me?"

"Yes," she quickly responded, feeling the subtle bulge of him pressed along her backside. "Please."

"Please... what?"

She couldn't believe he was making her say it. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and leaned into his touch, practically shifting the weight of her body on top of him. "Spence."

"I need to hear the words or you won't get anything at all," he spoke, his thumb grazing her chin.

The thought of being left sexually frustrated was enough for her to nod, giving in to his command. "Yes," she whispered, and because she wanted to make him feel as desperate as she was, she squirmed, hips writhing along his groin as she searched for friction. "I want you to fuck me to sleep."

A pleased rumble vibrated in his throat. Letting go of her neck, his hand trailed down her body and landed on the top of her thigh, gently massaging the muscle beneath his palm. His fingers skimmed up toward her skin, pushing up her nightgown, exposing more delicate skin and skimpy underwear barely covering her ass. Then it happened so fast. One moment he was caressing her, the next thing she knew his hand drew back before it came barreling forward with a sharp smack that echoed in the room. She gasped in pleasant surprise, her clit throbbing in excitement as his palm rubbed along the stinging flesh.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

She whimpered in response. Then his hand retreated from her ass only to come flying forward again with another sharp crack. Her hips jolted forward at the impact, her eyes closing at the delicious sting as his hand held onto her her stomach. His fingers then slowly trailed south and her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his lips hot on her ear.

"Open your legs, sweetheart."

Her knees fell apart at the demand, one of her legs laying on top of his. She waited for him to touch her, to dip his hand into her aching folds in the confinement of her underwear. Instead, his fingers slipped into the side of her fabric, tugging the material to the side, exposing wet, damp skin to his desire. The slick evidence of her arousal stuck onto the fabric so thickly it was enough for her to feel the heat creeping along her cheeks.

"Would you look at that?" He whispered, lips touching the back of her ear. "I haven't even touched you here and you're already soaking wet."

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she watched him. There wasn't a moment of hesitation while his fingers tugged the waistband of her underwear, gingerly sliding them down her legs before pulling them past her feet and casting them somewhere over the side of the bed. Then he grabbed onto her knee, parting her legs further apart but not doing anything to quench her desire. He could feel her trembling, writhing with need as she pressed further into his front.

The cool air hit her exposed skin, and it took a lot of self-control for her not to beg even further, but the way her body squirmed was enough to let him know what she craved. Though his hand stayed where it was, firmly gripping onto her left leg, sliding it on top of his while his lips lazily mapped along her neck.

"Here's what we're going to do," his gruff voice filled her ears. "I'm going to touch you, I'm going to please you in every way you like—" His hand slid painfully slow down her thigh before it came to a complete stop. "—but you can only cum when I give you permission to." His fingers inched closer to her throbbing heat. "Do I make myself clear?"

A shiver spread along her body, understanding what he meant by those words. He wanted to rule her, he wanted to be the one in charge of her own body. And while she should've felt appalled at the thought, her arousal rather grew deeper at every ticking second as he waited for her reply.

And then suddenly his fingers wrapped around her neck again, gently pressing onto her skin as he jutted his hips towards her. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," she begged him, her hand lightly tugging around his arm. "Perfectly clear."

Then his hand trailed down again, slightly brushing her aroused nipples before it settled on the heated span between her legs. When the pads of his fingers lightly grazed her clit, his teeth bit down on her shoulder. A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth. Two of his fingers began running back and forth between her damp folds, the sensation was gradually pulling shallower and shallower breaths from her.

"You're so wet," he growled against her skin. "This what you've been needing?"

She faintly nodded, her hips moving gradually with his fingers. His fingers circled in swift motion and it was enough for her to roll her head back onto his shoulder. His fingers then slid back into her slicked entrance before he abruptly slipped two of them into her. Eyes snapping shut, she groaned in pleasure. He began thrusting slowly into her over and over, curling them deep inside. A whimper escaped her mouth at the feel of them as he began to pump into her roughly, her hips pressing eagerly back into his hand.

"I can already feel you clenching around my fingers," he whispered. "You really needed this, didn't you?"

"So much," she found herself answering, a hand grasping onto his arm as he kept thrusting his fingers at a steady pace. "I needed you."

"Then you have me. You'll always have me."

A breathy moan flew out of her at his words, her back arched in response. She felt his lips pulling into a smile along her skin, thrusting his fingers all the way in. She moaned loudly, her head dropping down between his shoulders as he pulled his fingers out before quickly pushing them right back inside.

"Spence," she breathlessly sighed, his fingers still vigorously thrusting into her, only pausing to occasionally curl inside of her which in turn had her toes curling on the bed, her body feeling closer to the edge of her release. "I-I'm gonna—"

"No. You're not."

She let out a loud groan, griping his arm as he thrust deeper, his fingers spreading wider into her as another finger entered her heat. His warm breath was brushing over her skin, the sensation mingled with his finger still thrusting into her deliciously pleasant. "Baby, I-I can't—"

"You can," he whispered, his breathing sounding harsher than before. "You're going to wait until I give you my permission."

A harsh moan ripped in her throat, her body spasming as she tried to force herself to control her body. but it was getting harder to do when her vision felt like it was blurring, her breath coming in sharp pants as his fingers continued to drive into her, the sensation had her legs shaking. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him pumping into her echoed in the room.

"You're really enjoying this," he ground out as his pace picked up. "You're already so close."

She nodded against the pillow, whimpering out an affirmative noise that wasn't quite a word.

"Then I can't let that happen."

Instead of getting what she wanted, he abruptly pulled his fingers out from inside of her before she whined in protest. The loss of his touch on her body was too much to handle as she gripped his arm again, guiding him back between his legs. Spencer couldn't help the amusement dripping in his voice as he watched her move his fingers with her own. "What are you doing?"

"Spence, I was so close—"

"That's not how this works."

Then he retrieved his hand again before shifting behind her, and when she caught him pulling down his sweatpants, she couldn't help but arch her body towards him. She swallowed hard, goosebumps raising along her skin as she watched him pull out his cock, his hand gripping onto the length of it as he settled between her legs.

A moment later she felt the head of his cock rubbing through her damp folds, a shudder running down her spine at the sensation, a soft hum vibrating through her lips. She felt him line himself up with her entrance, her breath feeling like it was catching in her throat as she impatiently waited for him.

And then, finally, after many days of being apart, the tip of him slid inside of her so slowly. A gasp fell out of her mouth. Spencer rumbled out a very gruff, contented noise as he gradually sunk even deeper inside of her, pausing to let herself adjust to him.

"You feel so warm," he groaned out. "So perfectly warm."

She moaned in response, breath coming in hard. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

She could feel her walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to his girth. Then his hips slowly began rocking into her, pleasure washing over her body in waves at the sensation. His mouth lowered beside her ear, each of his panting breaths falling straight into it. "Nice—" He moved his hips back before pushing them forward leisurely, enjoying the way she clenched around him. "—and slow."

The roll of his hips pulled her into a trance as her body responded; muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Sparks of electricity began to ricochet along every nerve. The coil inside her was building up, her chest was rising and falling faster, more and more, dragging desperate breaths into her lungs with every thrust of his hips.

Then her eyes shifted downwards, watching the way he entered her deliciously body. It was a strange sight, to watch her body react to something so wonderful. Her muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along her skin, and it was all there for her viewing pleasure. She watched as he shoved himself into her, over and over again, her walls trembling at how intoxicating he was making her feel.

"Baby, I—" she whimpered, trembling in her wake. "I can't hold much longer."

"You can," he assured her, his fingers digging into her skin.

Weak and desperate, she surrendered in the wake of the urge elicited by his abrasive touch. His hands were all over her, large and expansive, confident in the way he touched, squeezed, and fondled every part of her body. Eager flames bloomed in the pit of her gut. "I—I can't."

He relished the way she clenched around him, her breathing coming out shallow as he took what he wanted. Then he gripped her hips, building up his pace as he thrust deeper into her. "You're so close, I can feel it," he pointed out. "Do you want to cum?"

She tried to focus her mind on something other than the feeling of him inside her. "Yes."

"Hmm," he hummed out, his pace briefly slowing. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he demanded, "Beg me or I'll stop."

A whimper left her. "Spence."

His lips found her neck when he felt her walls squeezing him even tighter, "Do you want to cum?" he repeated against her skin.

"Mhmm."

"Use your words," he groaned as he increased the pace of his movements. "Say it."

Swallowing hard, her head rolled against his shoulder. Her lips were quivering as he kept up his pace, her body inching closer and closer to her release. She was fighting to hold it back, her body slowly beginning to shake along the mattress.

"Beg." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

She was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded her voice rang in the air, breathless and desperate for his mercy from the overwhelming pleasure. "Please," she finally breathed out, almost letting out a cry, her lips parted in delight. "Baby—I-I... please let me cum."

"What was that?"

"Spencer," she whimpered desperately. "Please. Please. Let me—fuck.. baby, please."

This time she did let out a cry.

He snarled behind her before his teeth snapped at her earlobe, tugging at the delicate skin. Her body was quaking on the bed as she whined, struggling to hold back any longer. And when she felt like she was about to lose control, he finally released her earlobe and spoke, "Go on, then. Cum for me."

A loud moan flew up out of her throat, her body pressing back into his. She felt the hard clench of her walls around his length as pleasure spread through her entire body. As the coil in her stomach grew, she couldn't help but snake a hand down to where they were connected and quickly found her throbbing sex. Catching her desperate fingers, he swatted her hand away, replacing it with his own as his fingers circled around her clit.

His rough fingers taunting their joint bodies tipped her over that tantalizing edge. She felt each pulse of her walls so acutely, felt the heat flow throughout her spine as the high she reached never came to an end. He buried his face into her neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin. A certain movement from his fingers made her whole body shake. She couldn't handle it, couldn't see through the tears falling, couldn't feel anything but him and the hot pleasure.

She finally came with a scream, wrenched from her throat so roughly it seared its way out of her lungs and into the air. She felt herself clench around him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against her. Her ears tingled at the rhythm of his grunts as he exhaled her name, his thrusts growing erratic. Then she felt him completely, she could feel his warmth seeping into her heat as he let out the most primal groan she had ever heard.

Silence engulfed them afterward, their heart slowing down from their erratic breathing. It wasn't until he slipped out of her that she let out a tired moan, her voice echoing in the dark. He gently grabbed her body and turned her around, cradling her cheek before leaning in for a kiss.

Then slowly, but steadily, all he tasted was her. It felt like a missing puzzle falling back to its place as his warm lips connected with hers. He was so enraptured by her touch, by the taste of her, that it took a lot for him to pull away. Breathing heavily, he finally rested his head back onto his pillow, a coy smile stretched on his lips as his thumb stroked along her cheek.

"Hi."

A sincere smile flourished on her face. "Hi."

"Well, that was... something."

She laughed as she leaned closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "It was fun."

"It really was," he agreed, suddenly feeling shy as he realized what had just occurred. "I always surprise myself when I'm with you."

"Good," she simply said. He wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his embrace. They lay in comfortable silence, her head on his chest, legs draped over him as his fingers drew lazy patterns on her thigh. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence.

"You know," he started, his voice very soft. "You could've just woken me up if you have trouble sleeping."

She slightly leaned back to look up at him. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Nothing about you will ever be disturbing to me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Even if you got home from a long, exhausting trip, you wouldn't mind if I woke you up for sex?"

"I'd especially want to be woken up for that reason," he replied in disbelief. His fingers trailed under her chin, angling her gaze on him. "Wouldn't you?"

She smiled at the thought. There was a delightful feeling as her mind wandered on the possibility of him interrupting her sleep because he craved her touch. "Alright," she agreed. "Duly noted."

His arms tightened around her. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

She hummed out a positive response, her face burrowing along his skin, just beneath his chin. Her body suddenly felt the heavy post-sexual bliss, and now surrounded by his warmth, she could feel the fatigue creeping into her body.

"I was hoping so," he murmured.

Tugging the sheets up higher over their body, she felt him shifting along the bed for a minute, his arms encircling her waist. His chin was carefully tucked onto the top of her head as he drew her in tight under the covers. And when the steady rhythm of his breathing embraced her, her body finally relaxed, falling into sleep.

[lowkeyremi]

YOU’RE DOING GREAT, MAMA !

pairing: ushijima x fem!reader note: this has been in my drafts foreverrrr. it’s finally seeing the world thank God. i need to write more abt toshi summary: your husband comforts you through postpartum depression. content: angst, fluff, bittersweet moments, marriage, implied pregnancy, reader doubts her ability to be a mother, etc

The three of you returned home after three days in the hospital. During those three days you haven’t really been yourself at all.

Your baby boy, Nao was born healthy and strong. He’s doing all the normal stuff a newborn should do, but for some reason when you look at his tiny face you feel dread pitted deeply in your stomach.

Shouldn’t you feel joy when you see your little baby’s face? A lump forms in your throat as you start to think of the worst outcomes. Are you… rejecting your child? There’s no way. You and your husband spent months waiting for little Nao’s arrival. You were so excited setting up his room and buying him stuff. The ultrasounds were also very amusing to look at.

None of that excitement remains right now. “You must be tired, honey. Since you’ve already nursed him I’ll put him to sleep.” Wakatoshi pulls you out of your saddening thoughts. He shoots you a look of worry, because you’re clutching your chest tight, like you’re struggling to breathe.

“O-okay. Thank you ‘Toshi.” A faux smile crosses your face just to try and reassure your husband. He walks off to Nao’s nursery with his baby carrier in hand, but you know that he knows you well enough to ask what’s wrong later.

While your husband put Nao to sleep you changed out of your clothes into some comfy pajamas and you head to the bathroom to pee, brush your teeth and wash your face.

As the minty paste foams in your mouth you start thinking about your son again and you don’t even notice that you’re crying until-

“Sweetheart, why are you crying?” His voice comes soft and he uses his big hands to wipe away your salty tears.

You spit out the toothpaste, and in a few seconds you’re rinsing your toothbrush and your mouth out.

“I’m not sure- I just- I-” you pause letting out a shuttering breath, how do you even explain something like this? “I’m not as excited about Nao as I had been before he was born…”

Wakatoshi engulfs you in a hug from behind. “I’ve noticed at the hospital how you didn’t want to hold him much.” He too pauses before continuing on, “I was reading into this a few months earlier, but many women get postpartum depression after their baby is born.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, we just brought a life into this world and I don’t even feel any excitement about it.” Wakatoshi rubs small comforting circles onto your stomach which hasn’t completely gone back to its normal size.

“‘Toshi am I a terrible mother already?” You ask looking at him through the mirror. His brows furrow at the suggestion and he shakes his head violently which almost cheers you up because it’s so out of character for him.

“Not at all. Please do not talk about yourself that way. You’re going to be an amazing mother. Just give it some time.” He’s telling the truth, Wakatoshi is nothing but brutally honest about things, so you have no choice but to believe him.

Although, everything feels like it’s not okay, you allow your husband to comfort you through these baby blues. It won’t last forever, you tell yourself, as you put your toothbrush back in the cup.

Wakatoshi kisses your temple, it’s so soft and delicate. “We’ve created a beautiful baby boy and he’s going to grow up with the most loving parents.” He means that too, Wakatoshi grew up in a divided household so it’s no wonder he wants his son to grow up in a household that’s warm and loving.

“You’re right, we’ll raise our baby boy the best we can. Thank you ‘Toshi. I really needed to hear that. I was starting to spiral.” He squeezes you in a hug again.

“It’s nothing, and if you ever feel yourself in these baby blues again, just let me know, so I can remind you that you’re a great mother.” What in the world did you do to deserve this man?

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[selarina]

continuation to this

so, that night gojo satoru leaves with no jacket and half a broken heart and for the first time since he was 12 years old, he takes a sip of alcohol as he slouches against his home bar.

it's bitter, and it tastes a bit too much like soy sauce for his liking but he sips and sips until he sees the engraved "S.G" inscription at the bottom of his glass.

"hello, husband," a voice comes from behind him, interrupting his sob fest.

and for a moment, for dumb little moment, he thinks it's you. the voice sounds nothing like you though, it's far too high-pitched, but he's dreamt of this far too much for him to imagine someone else calling him husband.

aya tsukino materialises next to him, and seats herself on a seat beside him. she moves with a certain a quiet sleekness that he barely caught her moving from behind him. or maybe, he's finally out of it. "excited for the wedding, then?" she deadpans as she pours herself a drink.

"thrilled," he parrots back, merely a barren echo of emotions.

there's more truth in this room than there's been in your shared room for weeks. because it's simple really— gojo doesn't want to marry her, and aya couldn't care less as long as she got the money his family had.

before they had even exchanged any words, it was clear that they had this silent agreement that the two of them had little to do with love and everything to do with societal expectations and status.

as gojo attempts to take another sip from his empty company, he can't help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. your anger, and the way you stood up for the love you believed in. it'll haunt him for the rest of his life.

he wonders if you'll genuinely come to understand that he did have you in mind when he left you. he doesn't want you to be a mistress, a dirty little secret. he's seen how it broke his mother apart. how could he wish the same fate upon you knowing how his mother's life ended?

you're strong, and he believes you will persist and he will see at the end of his life sleeping grey and old in his bed as he stares at the way the sunlight hits your laugh lines.

but he also remembers the way you cried in secret. he never brought it up, he never brings it up. he was just waiting for the day you'd be comfortable enough to cry in front of him but for now, he settles for meaningless presents he brings afterwards to wipe off the blue from your face.

he places his glass down with a clink, and he hears a resembling clink from aya. "i'll ask you this only once, gojo satoru," she speaks up. "do you want this marriage?"

"i never wanted this marriage," his reply is immediate.

"of course not," she says. "i meant, do you still want to go through with this?"

he doesn't respond. the both of them know the answer to that, it's written all too clearly on his soppy little face.

"what if i don't," he finally speaks. "what about your money? your status?"

"my money..." she feigns to ponder. "as someone who's always sought out money, i can tell you one thing about it. money, it comes and it goes. i'll find another way as i always do," she says. "i will be fine."

"your father—"

"—is a terrible man, who will go on his pissy campaign against me but i hope it's not presumptuous of me to expect you to come to defence when needed. you know, for all the trouble?"

he chuckles with no mirth. seems trouble is all he's capable of causing the past few days. "of course," he responds.

aya smiles, she supposes there's one benefit of having the strongest sorcerer as her ex-fiancé. she stands up, as she pulls her coat snug against her body as she prepares to leave. "besides, you're not the only rich high-status man in town, you know?"

"well, they're not all me," he replies. his smug demeanour returning to him like it's breathing a new life into him.

"wow, a bonus too," she chuckles.

"and who was that handsome man with you on friday? blonde, glasses, chiselled like a—"

"nanami kento," he replies with a grin.

"nanami kento. is he rich?"

"not as rich as you," he replies. it's true. he's rich, he worked on wall street after all and nanami is a smart man, he has so much in his savings account, it's enough to feed an entire nuclear family. why he saves up is something that's beyond gojo.

"well, he's handsome. tell mr. kento i said hello," she smiles facetiously.

"tsk, fine." he grins again. "get out of here."

-

it's been a week since you heard about the wedding falling apart. and since, you've been hearing about it daily, almost hourly if you're being honest. after all, you're at the centre of it. it only makes sense.

there's a whole slew of narratives running around, cheating, money laundering, even murder. but the most popular one was about how aya was the rosaline to your romeo and juliet. gojo's as romeo as he comes — handsome, influential and maybe a bit endearingly dumb but you fail to see how you're juliet. she was rich, influential, beautiful — everything you've been starkly reminded that you are not.

but everyone's talking about the romance of it all and you haven't heard from gojo himself so it's strange to take their words to mind or heart. you ignore them, forming a ready-made response sheet in your head to every possible question you encounter across the week. they become white noise, as you go through your day like a pre-programmed robot.

but that changes on a hot, dusty afternoon as you're sitting in a cafe, awaiting a man you were advised against seeing, and he's late. of course, he's fucking late. he broke up with you and he has the audac—

he walks in. he looks exhausted, lankier than usual, and there's a cruel part of you that likes it. to know he looks as miserable as you've been seeing. there's the other, familiar part of you that wants to run your fingers against his sensitive eyes as you feed him with the warmth of the diner's food.

but you do neither, you neither smile nor frown. you sit in place as you wait for him to come and sit opposite you.

"hey," his voice sounds gravelly. "i'm sorry i'm late."

"nothing i'm not used to," you reply with a glare as you cross your arms.

his hands reach for the menu as he plays with the edges of the paper. he always orders the same breakfast meal from this place. he must be nervous.

"i... i wanted to talk to you," he starts. "i want you back."

"excuse me? you can't just—"

"i'm willing to do anything. anything. if you want to take it slow, i understand. if you want to take your time, i understand. if you want me to get down on my knees and beg, i understa—"

"do it."

his eyes widen, you can tell — even though the black glasses are blocking his eyes, you can tell. it only lasts for a split second, because you blink with contempt and he's beside you. on his knees, as he stares up at you. he barely stares up at you — he's so tall, he's almost eye-to-eye with you. but even so he hunches his back, makes himself small.

"i'm sorry," he says again, as he takes off his glasses placing it onto the table in front of you. his eyes are alarmingly blood-red, and it takes every muscle in your body to hold back from running your fingers over his. "like i said, i'll do anything. just pleas— take me back."

you stare, and he stares back at you. you're too lost in the way he looks at you — at your mercy — that you miss the strange and baffled looks from people around you. and when you finally do, your cheeks flush with heat.

"okay," you say. " please, get up now."

"no, let me— let me stay," he says. pleads. "just let me stay until you take me back."

"fine," you sigh, as if there was any real objection from your side. "get up now."

"really?" his blood-red eyes gleam, you could almost see a tinge of the vibrant blue coming back to life.

"yes," you groan as your hand grip his elbow. "i was willing to be your fucking mistress. did you really thin— i would say— mmpph"

and just like that he's up, sliding next to you on your seat, as he kisses you. you're ashamed to admit that your first thought was the idea of getting kicked out for public indecency but your second thought was about how you think you could stay like this forever. despite the public gawking at you through mean and baffled stares.

"i'm serious about doing whatever it takes," he says, sincerity laced in his voice. "you shouldn't let me get away with this lightly."

you smile. "I hope you mean it," you reply. "and i won't. i’ll make you work for it, just a little."

he nods with a smile, "anything. i'll make it up to you."

"you have to do the chicken dance," you say, seriously and firmly.

"what?"

"you have to do the chicken dance. right now in the middle of the diner and i'm taking a video," you pull out your phone. "and... i'm sending it to nobara."

his eyes widen, almost like he's feeling actual fear. "not nobara," he gasps. "but she's so mean, baby."

"well, you said anything."

he sighs. gojo looks around the crowded diner, his tall frame rigid and tense. he glances at you, then at your phone, and finally resigns himself to the absurd request.

"fine," he mutters, standing up from the seat as he begins flapping his arms and doing a clumsy version of the chicken dance in the middle of the diner.

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji had stayed the night at many women's houses. At some point down the line, he started requesting they order him an Uber or something, but in the beginning, he was hardly at his own place. And for a brief period, when he was in a real desperate situation, he stayed with the women because he didn't have a place of his own.

That's why it's so strange to Toji, to feel apprehensive at staying the night in your home.

You won't even be there, what's it matter? He thought.

But then again, that might be why he's a bit uneasy about the whole thing. You were to be gone three days for a work event. And you had entrusted him with your entire place. He had showered and napped in your house, eaten your food and brought in the mail. He was comfortable to the point it felt like a second (much nicer) home. What he had never done, was stay the night. He certainly hadn't slept in your bed...

You had seemed overwhelmed and uneasy about the situation while walking him through everything. You had been on the opposite side of the kitchen island when you had said,

"I know this is so short notice, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't even supposed to be on this trip, I asked not to go, but the other official called out sick." Your hands made grand and elaborate gestures and your dogs head wobbled as he followed your theatrical hands. "So now, I'm stuck, I have to go." You sounded upset.

"'S not a problem. So, what day does the trash go out, again?" He held back a grin as your shoulders drooped.

"Toji, you're my hero. Thank you. And Wednesday, don't worry if you forget to take it out though."

You had informed him that the dog would probably like it best if he stayed downstairs with him while you were away. Meaning-sleeping in the master bedroom. In your bedroom. On your bed.

Oh...kay...

He shrugged it off as you muttered some, "of course, I'll clean the sheets so don't worry about that..." And explained about the difficult relationship between the dog and the mailman. But he was too caught up in the fact that you were so trusting of him.

There didn't seem to be any uncomfortable air around you, other than your work-related stress around the trip, but you didn't seem to have a problem with this big-ass man spending a few days in at your place.

Toji had lots of appeal, and he had grown to know, the majority of it was sex appeal. And the fact that you clearly had no interest in that aspect of his abilities... made him feel odd. Any time he would throw a compliment at you, you would smile politely, and say something nice about him. Except it was always,

"You're so good at you're job!"

"I'm so glad I can trust you to look after my puppy!"

"I appreciate how efficient you are!"

it made his ears feel hot.

So did the smell of your bedsheets. In fact, your pillowcases had such an effect on him, on that first night you were gone, he found himself rummaging through your things to distract himself.

He meandered through your room, pulling books and sticky notes off dressers and walking through your closet nook. He intentionally did not open any drawers but when he stumbled upon a pair of pajamas lying on a bookcase ladder, he quickly turned around and went to examine the fascinating blanket collection at the foot of your bed.

Staying at your place meant he could sleep in if he wanted to, but that morning he got out of bed earlier than usual. He wasn't going to let his mind wander while lying in the same spot you lay.

He found himself pretending he actually lived in the space. Getting dressed. Feeding the dog. Making breakfast. All in the luxurious home he did not belong in. After some time he realized all of these fantasies included you. He imagined making coffee as you sat across the island, he imagined talking with you, as a normal person, over pancakes, or whatever the hell rich people ate.

Eventually, he had to shake the thoughts from his head as they began to seem too domestic.

One thing that carried throughout the days of your leave, was the photos. You had repeatedly told him to never hesitate to contact you, "And please feel free to send pictures!" So send pictures- he did.

On walks, in the back yard, while booping the dog's nose, after giving the beast a treat. He sent most to you but kept some for himself. You acted as if he was spoiling you with these images of your own canine, the hearted messages and polite, "This really made my day!" stuck with him, when in reality, you were the one spoiling him with how much you had given him for his stay.

Once upon a time, the money he had in his wallet would have already been gone. A real likelihood being that he took the cash and left the dog to fend for itself. Only naive people paid before the service was completed. But he was a different man now. Or so he told himself as he pondered how you must think of him.

You must think highly. To pay so much upfront. You must trust him.

That evening, after walking the dog one last time, he flipped his phone around in his hand while lying down, legs hanging off your mattress. It was late, he was wondering what you were doing and what he should spend his money on when he felt the vibrations of his phone.

He saw your contact pop up and was quick to open the messaging app. What he saw, however, confused him a great deal.

"I would like for you to not involve the police with this. If possible, do keep this event and its handlings between us, I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this."

He sprang up in the bed, his feet planted on the floor as he read and reread your message over and over. Confusion filled him, was this message intended for him? If so, had you discovered something about Toji's past? Or had you mistakenly sent the message to him?

What was this about?

He began to write back, only to stop. He wanted to see if you would alter your text, or confirm your mistake. When you didn't and he could not take it any longer. He responded.

"What event are we discussing?"

Immediately he saw that you had read his reply, and quickly he saw an ellipses appear. It faded quickly. He waited for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to say. "I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this" he knew you had discussed his working for you before with your co-workers before he distinctly told you he wasn't looking for more work.

Sick of all the waiting, he decided to call you. And as soon as the phone rang, it immediately went to voice mail.

Clearly, you had been in a hurry to avoid his call. Unsure of how to proceed, he texted again.

"???"

He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he rose to pace the bedroom. Finally a message arrived.

"Terribly sorry, that message was intded for my boss. I texted your ontact by mistake."

Toji tried to digest exactly what this meant. He saw the typos in your message and quickly wondered if you had ever been so careless before. He scrolled up to scan previous conversations but decided it was unimportant.

"I see" he began, he wanted to ask what was happening but he knew he wouldn't want anyone prying into him, especially if it involved anything incriminating. He tried to relax himself. Perhaps the comment had nothing to do with him, even so, he decided to call you again to clarify what had just happened.

In a harsh contrast to before, the phone barely had a chance to ring before you picked up. Toji knew he hadn't been thinking straight. But when he saw the call start he realized then that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. It wasn't but a moment later that he discovered that all of his unanswered questions were irrelevant.

He held the phone up to his ear and heard quick breaths from the other end of the call. What he assumed was a frantic exhale, came out more like a sob as he heard pained whimpers.

"Didn't mean to...sorry about tonight. It was my mistake." You were speaking very slowly, in a calculated sort of way. Still, your voice shook.

Toji was impossibly still as he listened to your voice. "What's going on, y/n?"

That night he would lay in bed, trying to sleep, and realize that this particular moment might have been the first time he used your name intentionally. In the moment, however, he was all too occupied to care. He wanted to come off as gentle and friendly, something he was completely unaccustomed to.

The line went quiet. There was a long pause before a throaty squeak came and a warbled, "...sorry" was heard. Just before the call ended.

Toji began to pace again, he called you once more before he decided that it might be best to not pressure you. He ran a hand down his face as he tried to write a text. But he had nothing to say, he was experiencing confusion and confusion alone.

Turns out, he didn't need to start the conversation again, in your never-ending kindness, you sent, "I'm sorry for all of this, this is a small matter with work at the moment and I did not mean to startle you. I see how it might have come off as concerning. I promise this will not effect you. I'm sorry. Please forget this occurred."

Relief flooded Toji faster than he could question it. So this didn't involve him. But what exactly was happening? He gave your message a thumbs up... but something was still stuck eating at his brain.

"Were you crying just now?" He sent.

He expected a long wait before you responded but, to his surprise you reply was prompt.

"Sorry about that."

And a moment later, "I didn't mean to involve you."

That feeling in his stomach sunk further as he stared at his phone. Unsure of what to say, your dog whimpered at his feet and Toji took a deep breath.

"I wasn't asking for you to apologize" he typed, trying to put his intentions into words. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't remember the last time he had asked someone about their wellbeing. So when you responded,

"Yes. I think so." He found himself slowly walking back to your bed. Staring at the floor as he sat on your comforter. He decided he wouldn't press.

He liked your message.

He laid in your bed.

And he tried to get the sound of your shaky breaths out of his mind.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[mxltifxnd0m]

heat wave ࿔ s. winchester

summary: heat waves suck in the bunker

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader

word count: 1.7K

warnings: no use of y/n, not beta'd, fluff, complaining about heat, nudity, suggestive content, one or two dirty jokes

a/n: i made a post about complaining about this heat wave that is happening in my area and decided to write about it. this was intended to be a blurb but it spiraled out of my control LMAO

(also i haven't posted this frequently in like... ever LOL. so please say thank you to sam winchester for being my muse)

please reblog and lmk your thoughts and opinions!! i wanna hear what you guys thought about the fic!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You hated the heat. Nope. Scratch that you loathed the heat. Despite growing up in hotter climates, you never grew to like the heat. You can tolerate it, but you've always preferred the colder months, where you can layer all you want and get warm and cozy.  

But with summer, there was so much you could wear until you were almost naked.  

The bunker could only do much to keep out the heat during the summer and keep the heat in when winter rolled around. An unexpected heat wave hit Lebanon, and since the bunker didn't have any AC or windows, it was practically hell on earth in the bunker.

Sam and Dean were out on a hunt, and you were stuck in the bunker due to having a nasty run-in with a witch that left you concussed and bruised ribs. They said the hunt was a quick salt and burn a state over, so they would be back in a few days. But in the few days they were gone, the heat became almost unbearable.

You spent the past few days stripped down to a bra and the shortest PJ shorts you had. You would have strolled around the bunker naked, but you were a little paranoid that Sam and Dean would come home early, and you didn't want to give Dean a free show. The amount of water that you had drunk could be considered criminal, but you managed to sweat most of it.

You even went out and bought multiple box fans for the library, war room, kitchen, and your bedroom (To hell with your boyfriend and Dean's bedroom. They could buy a fan for themselves.) because you could barely stand the stifling heat that managed to worm its way into the bunker.

The heat had gotten to the point where you were sprawled out on your back, starfish styled on the cool tiles of the shower room. This was your only saving grace in this place (and taking cold showers right before you went to sleep). When the tiles below you would get warm and sticky, you would just shuffle (drag) your body slightly to another patch of cold tiles.

You were so focused on cooling down your hot body that you didn't hear Sam calling for you when he couldn't find you in your room. He and Dean eventually found you on the shower floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean's voice echoed off of the shower room walls.

"Finding reprieve from this god-awful heat." You sat up on your elbows to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway, uncaring of your state of undress. Being a hunter and getting injured in inconvenient places had left you topless in front of the boys plenty of times and vice versa, so it left no room for modesty.

"This bunker doesn't have any AC or windows, and this heat wave has been terrible. You guys need to fix that." You said before sliding back down and moving to a patch of cool tile.

Sam's chuckling made you smile despite the heat. "Considering this bunker was built in the 30s, they didn't exactly have to worry about heat waves or AC."

Your smile dropped as you scowled at Sam's words. "I hate global warming. Also, how are the two of you not sweating your balls off yet?" You had noticed that they were wearing their flannels.

"We just got back and spent the past 10 minutes trying to find you. Safe to say we haven't spent much time in the bunker to feel the heat."

"Well, you're about to Deanie-boy, be prepared to strip." You went to take a sip of water from the bottle you had brought with you, only to find that it was empty.

"You would love to see that wouldn't you."

"It's nothing I haven't seen before." You said before getting up from the floor with a slight groan.

"Besides, I'd prefer to see a strip tease from a different Winchester." You winked at Sam as you walked in between the boys, giving his ass a quick tap as you left the shower room and headed toward the kitchen to refill your water bottle.  

About two and a half hours later, the heat had gotten to the boys, and they were stripped down to their boxers, trying to survive. Dean ended up stealing one of the fans you bought and stashed it in his room, but even then, the fans were just blowing around the warm air that was in the bunker.

When it came time to eat dinner, you guys quickly got dressed because none of you wanted to spend another second in the hot bunker. The cool night air was like a healing balm over the heat wave as you guys found a diner that also had outside seating. After you guys were done eating, Dean drove the three of you around for a while with the windows down in the Impala, not wanting to go back to the stifling hot bunker.

You guys got back home at eleven o'clock, and the temperature in the bunker got significantly better, but it was still uncomfortably warm. You all headed to different bathrooms to shower off the stickiness that the three of you were already feeling.

You took your time in the cold water, not wanting to leave it just yet, but you eventually left the shower once your skin acclimated to the water and started to feel warm to you. You wrapped yourself in a towel and made your way to your room.

Once you made it to your room, you turned on your fan, cranked it to the highest setting, and dropped your towel. You didn't bother with any clothes or getting under the covers because you would throw them off of yourself the second you started to sweat. You crawled on top of your covers and rested your back against your headboard. You wanted to read a bit before you went to bed, so you grabbed your Kindle off of your nightstand and began to read.

About fifteen minutes later, you got a knock on your door. "Babe?" Sam's voice was muffled by the thick door.

"You can come in." You tell him, not looking away from your Kindle.

You heard the door open, and that's when you looked up at Sam entering your room. You caught his surprised expression as he took in your nude form and quickly shut the door. You saw lust flashing through his hazel eyes as his gaze traveled up and down your body.

Sam cleared his throat as he kept his eyes trained on yours. Ever the gentleman. You thought as you smirked at his reaction.

"Did you need something?" You asked, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend as you placed the Kindle in your lap. Your eyes also wandered up and down Sam's bare torso as he was only in his boxers. His anti-possession tattoo stood out against his tan chest and was littered with scars that had faded with time.

You saw Sam swallow thickly as his eyes flickered from your chest to your eyes. "I was wondering why you weren't in our room?"

It was technically Sam's room before you moved into it. After a couple of months of dating, you found yourself sleeping in his room more often than your own when you initially moved into the bunker.

"As much as I love you, Sammy, I cannot sleep with you during this heat wave."

Sam frowned slightly as he made his way to your bed and sat on the edge of it. "Why not?"

You scoffed. "Because you're practically a human furnace, and as nice as it is sleeping with you during the winter, I just know I'll be soaked just sharing a bed with you."

A dirty smirk wormed its way onto Sam's face as his warm palm landed on your ankle and slowly trailed up your leg. "I'm glad I have that effect on you, but I already knew that."

You narrowed your eyes at him as you wriggled your leg away from Sam's grasp. "Ha, ha, you're so funny." You deadpan. "But I'm being serious. You radiate heat, which isn't fun when we're trying to survive a heat wave."

Sam started to pout at you. "But babe-"

"Nope. Not hearing it." You cut him off and shook your head at him as you moved your Kindle to your nightstand. "You're sleeping in your bed alone until this heat wave is over."

"Now, go back to your room." You gestured to your door.

A small huff left Sam as he got up from your bed. "Fine, but at least give me a goodnight kiss."

You rolled your eyes slightly. "Get over here, you big baby." Sam moved to the side you were lying on and bent down to kiss you.

You intended the kiss to be chaste, but Sam (being the little shit he is) had other ideas. He grabbed both of your cheeks with his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss.  

It was unexpected, but you melted into the kiss as your hands instinctively went to his chest. He tasted like mint and something that you could only describe as Sam. Sam swiped at the seam of your lips, and that is what broke you from your Sam-induced haze.

You pushed him away from you and glared at him lightly. Sam just had a cheeky grin on his face.

"Nice try, now go to bed."

Sam still had a grin on his face as he bent down again and kissed your forehead.

"Goodnight, baby," He murmured softly against your forehead before pulling away.

"Goodnight, Sammy," You said with a soft smile as he left your room.

You turned to your nightstand and turned off the lamp that illuminated your room. Your room was engulfed in darkness as you shuffled further down your bed until your head hit the pillows. You fell asleep as your fan blew cool air towards your bed.

Little did you know, Sam ended up sneaking into your room once you were asleep and woke up in the morning soaked in sweat and having a moose of a boyfriend wrapped around your sweat-slicked body.

It's safe to say that you gave Sam a very rude awakening that morning.  

[peachdues]

TOXIC

LEVI X READER

A/N: a combination of the horny angst that’s been swirling in my head for a few days.

Listen. Do I condone what’s about to happen in this? No. Was it fun to write? Absolutely.

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below • toxic fucking • unprotected/raw sex • creampie • breeding kink • fucking does not solve problems • neither do babies • toxic Levi and toxic Reader tbh

This was a bad idea. Terrible; one of your worst to date.

And yet, as Levi spread you out across his kitchen counter — the counter that, until two weeks ago, had also been yours — you couldn’t for the life of you remember why every alarm bell in your head was sounding off, begging your body stiffen, to reject the man lowering himself between your thighs, his gray eyes glowing nearly silver with desire.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” His lips are hot and silky as they slope messily across your thighs, and his fingers push aside the hem of your sundress to make way for him. “Because try as you might, you know no one will ever be able to fuck you like I can.”

Ah. That was why.

Because you and Levi had broken up. You were no more; a past concept, a memory.

In the end, your three-year relationship died not in a fiery blaze of glory, but in cold resignation. He’d sat stoically at the kitchen table as you’d confessed that you could no longer stomach being second or third or whatever place behind his true passion — work — and that it was time for you to put yourself first, for once, since he wouldn’t.

The only sign of his emotion has been his fists — clenched so tight that the skin of his knuckles had gone white.

I’m done. I have nothing left to give you, Levi. Not when you only ever take and offer nothing in return.

He’d tried to argue once you announced your intention to move out that night. He’d fought to convince you to wait until morning, to put away the small suitcase you’d packed with your most essential belongings, to sleep on it — on the decision overall. But you’d known that if you’d stayed, you would have changed your mind — would’ve let him change your mind, and he’d known that, too. So you’d held firm, turned your back on him and forced yourself to walk out of the door to your apartment, suitcase in hand.

You hadn’t intended to return, and it seemed like he’d accepted it. He’d even gone so far as to mail whatever of your belongings you hadn’t managed to pack to your parents’ address. So though you spent your nights staining your pillow with bitter tears, your heart feeling like little more than a misshapen lump of meat barely beating in your chest, you’d at least gotten what you thought you’d wanted: a clean break.

Until he’d texted you that all of your mail was still being sent to your — his — address. He’d offered to pay to have it forwarded to you, but when you saw how much that would have put you in his debt, you’d begrudgingly told him you’d stop by on your way home from work and pick it up.

Really, you knew better; should have known better, at least.

And perhaps your logic would have won over your desire, but then Levi’s fingers tug your underwear to the side and his mouth latches to your core, and all the chatter that constitutes your higher reasoning fades to an indiscernible buzz in the back of your skull. The moment you feel something hot and wet prodding your entrance, your mind whites out without the hope of coherency returning any time soon, as Levi begins to fuck you with his tongue.

With a keening cry, your legs seize around his head, trapping him between your thighs. Your hands shoot to grip his hair, desperate to find purchase; to find anything to help keep you tethered here, to reality, rather than risk floating away in clouded bliss.

But Levi is too committed to tearing down the wall you’d carefully spent the last two weeks building, brick by brick. So as his tongue pumps steadily into your core, he shifts, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he presses you harder against his face. His jaw works furiously and when his teeth graze against your clit, you lose whatever last vestige of control you’d clung onto.

You’re sobbing through clenched teeth but utterly helpless to stop your hips as they begin churning and grinding against his mouth. Levi hums in approval, and throw your eyelashes, you spot the way his pupils dilate, chasing away the cool silver of his irises and replacing them with something black and hungry.

“Atta girl,” he praises between his thrusts, and the vibrations of his mouth against your heated, sensitive flesh nearly makes you drool. “For once in your life, stop fuckin’ thinking.”

He swirls his tongue around you entrance one more time before he replaces it with his fingers, plunging two into your cunt and curling them. He finds that rough patch on your innermost wall with a near frustrating ease.

It’s infuriating to know that the person you know can’t give you what you really need is somehow the only person who knows exactly how to give you what you want. And, judging by the faint smirk pulling at Levi’s lips they latch around that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, you know he can see your resolve crumbling under his feverish mouth.

“You don’t even remember why we were arguing, do you?” He jeers between harsh sucks at your clit as you continue to writhe and cry out for more. “You just wanted to cause a scene; make me sweat a little.”

You want to fight back; you want to tell him that he’s wrong, that you’d meant it when you’d said your relationship had run its course, but he won’t give you the space to do so. Not when he presses his face firm against your center and rocks his head side to side, reducing any protestations you might have had to pitiful whimpers.

“You’ve got my attention, sweetheart. Let’s see if you know what to do with it.”

Levi slips a third finger into your core and you come undone. With his teeth grazing your clit in time with each measured thrust of his fingers into your heat, you shatter against the kitchen counter, hard enough that stars dance in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Levi groans as he continues to lap at your sensitive and overstimulated flesh. “You’re always so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

His praise, coupled with the way his mouth continues to work at your cunt prolongs the waves of your release, until your legs are trembling against the smooth granite of the countertop, and tears are gathered in your eyes. Your walls spasm weakly one final time and then it’s over, your limbs limp and your brain little more than a puddle of liquid between your ears.

Levi steps back and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable; you know, by the way his eyes turn from steel to molten ore that he wants more; wants to take and take and make you bend to him.

You shouldn’t do it; you know you shouldn’t. You know that what’s happening between you is a manifestation of everything that was toxic about your relationship. Levi, always needing to be in control, who only listened when you were at your breaking point, but could never fully give you what you needed. You, who made far too many excuses, who let him dictate the norms of your relationship because it was easy; being with him was easy, until it wasn’t.

So no, you shouldn’t give in; you should stand firm.

You reach for him anyways. “Levi,”

That’s all it takes; a pleading whimper of his name, your hands outstretched toward him, and Levi pounces. His mouth crashes against yours, and his kiss makes you feel whole even though you know he’s tearing your resolve apart.

And you let him; you let him, because you’d sworn you were going to spend your life with him. You believed, without a moment’s hesitation, that Levi was the one for you — the one you’d share the remainder of your days with, the one with whom you’d create and share a family. It was all you’d wanted, and Levi, to his credit, had assured you it was what he’d wanted, too. At least, he did; once.

And, as Levi’s hands slide under you to peel you off the counter, your legs locking around his waist with practiced ease, you know it’s what you still want; he’s what you want.

For all your desperation to have him, Levi is just as eager for you. He pivots you away from the counter, lips still moving heatedly against yours, only to drop you both to the cold tile floor, spreading you out beneath him as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, your neck. He’s too impatient to carry you to the bedroom, his hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt so he can have you then, now, on the kitchen floor.

“‘S been too long,” he pushes the straps of your sundress from your shoulders, yanking the bodice down to expose your. He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, and idly you wonder whether you made the subconscious decision to forgo your bra when you dressed that morning, in the event you’d end up here, under him.

His mouth closes around one pert nipple and you think it was the best decision you could have made; for nothing could possibly feel as right as the sensation of his hot mouth and silken tongue swirling around your soft flesh, nipping and sucking his devotion into your skin.

Your chest is heaving as his hands stroke down your body, pushing and pulling the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. Your legs are still little more than jelly thanks to the intensity of your previous climax, but you manage to wrap them around his hips all the same, clenching in an effort to bring him closer.

“Fuck,” he growls, and he imparts one final nip at your breast before he pulls back, his hands hurriedly shoving the waistband of his trousers and briefs down his hips, just far enough that he can pull his cock free. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, ramrod hard, his tip already leaking with his desire.

He’s just as desperate for you as you are hopelessly in need of him.

Your eyes trace back up from where his length stands hard against his belly back to his face. A pretty pink blush has flushed his cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest, and his eyes are glassy with want.

“Levi,” you plead with a soft moan. “Baby, please —“

Baby. You hadn’t called him that often while you were together, but when you had, it was because you’d been so filled with affection — with love — that his name hadn’t been enough.

It was a slip, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex. In an instant his body is covering yours, and he’s moaning into your mouth as one hand ensnares itself in your hair. Between quick kisses, you swear you hear him whisper your name against your lips, before his tongue swipes back in and steals your breath away.

He breaks your kiss to shove a hand between your bodies, gripping himself at his base and giving his length one, solid pump. You shift, spreading your thighs wider, ready to take him and feel whole once more.

He lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance and pauses. Impatiently, you buck your hips forward, trying to take him in, but he twists back just far enough that your wetness can only brush against him, a mockery of how you truly need him.

Levi ignores your howl of frustration. “If you want it, then tell me you’ll come home.”

Your teeth clench hard enough to crack, but you won’t give in; not yet, at least.

He’d been right; you wanted him to sweat a little, and damn if you weren’t going to try and bring him to his knees, if only for a bit. At least until he had you back in the palm of his hand, begging for a crumb of his attention.

So with a gritty determination that borders spite, you lock your ankles against his backside and haul him into you with all your might.

“Jesus — fuck!” His yell echoes off the gleaming stainless steel appliances as you force him fully inside you, unwilling to let him win this battle so soon. He falls forward, an arm flinging out beside your head to catch himself.

Your boldness pays off, for Levi is forced remain still, panting hard and his eyes screwed shut as he adjusts to the sensation of being fully buried in your warmth after so long. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way the muscles in the arm needed by your head ripples under the force of his restraint. Slowly, his eyes open and the darkness in them makes you pulse and contract around his length, your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Your mouth falls into a perfect “o” as he begins to move once more. He sits back on his knees, back straight, and his hands come to rest on your hips. He tugs you up just enough that your backside rests against the tops of his thighs, your back forced into an arch away from the floor. His gaze drops to where you’re connected, your base pressed flush against his, and the sight of himself embedded so deeply inside you makes the fingers on your hips tighten.

Slowly, and with careful precision, he withdraws his cock from your heat until only his tip remains lodged in your entrance. His eyes flick to yours and then he slams back into you, forcing your breath from your lungs. He repeats the movement again and again, until your lower lip is wobbling and your fingers are sinking into the corded muscles of his forearms, unable to do anything but cling on as he hammers into you.

The stillness of the kitchen is soon disrupted by the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your breathy moans and Levi’s pants. Between the sharpness of his hips and the cold tile of the kitchen floor, you know you’re likely to walk away from this with bruises, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. Especially not when Levi is moving like this, each of his thrusts as punishing as they are calculated.

“What’d I say, huh? No one can fuck you like I can.”

Levi more often than not was a soft lover. Kind; generous; prone to taking his time with you, so much so that it was nearly painful, usually leaving you in a tearful puddle on your mattress, begging him for more.

But now, he’s trying to remind you of what you’re leaving behind by leaving him; he’s punishing you as much as he’s begging you to stay.

The thought makes you moan out, wanton and desperate, and the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

His hips snap harshly against yours, choking off the sound in your throat. “So come back home,” and though you know he means for it to sound like an order, his eyes betray his urgency, his desperation to confirm that you hadn’t really meant it; that you’d given up on him in a moment of stress and exhaustion. “Quit being a brat and come home.”

You want to tell him you can’t — that the door had closed on your relationship the moment you’d pulled it shut behind you that day, but try as you might, the words will not form. All that spills from your mouth are broken utterances of his name, and even those flatten out into pathetic whines as Levi’s callused thumb finds your clit and begins to work, determined to haul you to the edge of your sanity and shove you over.

Your legs spasm around his waist as you begin your ascent to that sacred precipice. Your eyes are rolled back, your head thrashing from side to side as the pleasure, white hot and searing, mounts within you, that coil in your belly winding tight with every impassioned movement of his body against yours.

Distantly, you feel his hold on your hips tighten, and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppy. You know it’s only a matter of time before one of you succumbs to your release.

He growls your name, the last syllable tapering off in a small whine. “T-tell me — fuck — tell me where.”

Your eyes fly open and meet his, sobering awareness washing over you like a tidal wave.

Only once in the entire course of your relationship, did Levi ask where he was allowed to cum: the beginning. He’d asked the very first time you’d slept with him, legs in the air and over his shoulders, and once you’d made it clear you were on birth control, that had been the end of the discussion. You’d known that if you’d changed your mind, all you’d needed to do was tell him, and he’d adjust. Truthfully, however, you’d not minded the possibility of your birth control failing; you’d been content to let whatever happen, happen.

You’d told him as much, and he’d told you he shared the sentiment.

But that was then; this time, he’s giving you an out. A way to make sure this remains a one-time thing, a moment of weakness between two people too lost and broken to want anything different.

Levi’s eyes widen as the silence stretches between you, and his hips slow until he stops moving all together. The friction mounting where you’re connected is nearly unbearable, and you know the only way to relieve it is to give him an answer — whatever it may be.

This was it; the decision that will make or break you both. For once, he’s out the ball entirely in your court, and whatever comes after this moment of bliss — or frality — ends depends entirely upon you.

“Inside,” you barely manage to squeak, eyes wide and locked unwaveringly with his.

Even Levi hesitates. “Y/N —“

“Inside,” you repeat with slightly more conviction. “Cum inside me, Levi.”

“Your pill?” His hips have already resumed their pace, and you can feel how he’s grown harder at your insistence. But though his body is already moving in accord with your demand, his eyes look ready to bulge out of his skull when you manage the smallest shake your head.

“Inside.” You beg again, and you dig your heel harder into the steely muscle of his backside, limiting how far he’s able to pull his hips back; to pull out at all.

Because damn if he isn’t the only person in the world with whom you could fathom facing the consequences of fucking raw without even the safety net of the tiny blue pills still sitting at your pharmacy, waiting.

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, a tendon in his neck throbbing. “Fuck, you want me to give you a baby? So fuckin’ be it. As long as you’ll stay.”

He shifts over you, planting one foot on the ground so he can use his thigh to pin one of your legs back and to the side. His hand shoves under your other thigh, mimicking the position of your other leg as he mounts you, his full weight pressing you harder into the floor and keeping you spread wide for him.

Gone was the calculated precision of his earlier thrusts; now, Levi only presses his groin firmly against yours as he begins to rut, each rock of his hips pushing his length impossibly deeper into your slick warmth.

A cracked moan of his name signals that the blunt tip of his cock has brushed up against that spot within you that Levi knows will have you coming apart in minutes. And so, with a feral gleam sparking to life in his eyes, he shifts himself to press the head of his cock firmly against it, his hips rolling hard enough into you that you begin moving in time with him, your hips lifting up from the floor only to be pushed back by him as he works.

His balls are heavy against the underside of your ass as he continues to rut into you. You know he’s close when you feel him begin to twitch inside you, and the anticipation of being filled by him — so hot and sweet — makes the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

If you thought you were a mess before, the way Levi mounts you on the floor has you nearly screaming with pleasure, so electric and blinding that all sights of the kitchen fade to white, and your eyes flutter shut.

But Levi won’t allow you to check out; not now, not ever.

“Look at me.” His free hand grabs your jaw in an attempt to force you to meet his eyes. You want to give him what he wants, but it’s far too difficult, what with the way yours are glued to the back of your skull, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“L-Levi,” you try and plead, to explain. But he has always demanded more of you than you knew how to give.

“Look at me.” His fingers squeeze your cheeks, insistent. “If you want my baby, then you’re gonna look at me while you cum.”

He’s doing it to prove a point — to prove that he still has control over you, over whatever it is that remains between you. And you, helpless against the whims of your heart, let him have it, because you love him.

Fuck. You love him.

You force your eyelids open to meet his punishing stare, and then his lips are crashing down against yours in a fiery clash of lips and teeth as both of you fight to consume the other. But you lose first, breaking your kiss to cry out as your climax slams into you with the force of a freight train, knocking your breath clean from your lungs.

It’s powerful; the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in memory, one that sends your back arching sharply up from the cool kitchen tile below, and pulls a howl of Levi’s name from your mouth.

You’re still straddled among the clouds of your pleasure when Levi succumbs to his own. His body tenses for a moment and then he’s coming undone, his hips giving one last, mighty push before he explodes.

He cums with a strangled groan that he silences by searing his mouth against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he pulses within you.

You don’t try to stop the pleasured grin that forms on your mouth, nor the contented hums which vibrate in your chest as you hold him close to you, savoring the feeling of being warm and full of him.

You know you might regret the decision later; but there, spread out across his — your — kitchen floor, Levi’s full weight bearing down upon you as he continues to flood you with his release, you can’t help but feel that maybe this wasn’t the toxic choice at all. Perhaps this is simply a manifestation of everything that is good in your life.

Good. That’s what you decide to tell yourself as you feel Levi’s lips press sleepily against your neck. This is good; this is right.

Because this — he — is your home.

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: Let's see how Vixen and the boys will fare after the preparations of the prank... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 61: Mr. Blue Sky

“Shhhh,” Sirius whispered as Remus opened the door. He was holding your sleepy frame by the waist. Remus had been the one to carry you from the tower back to the common room, but he had accidentally stepped on a wobbly step on the stairs and almost face planted along with you a couple of minutes ago.

Thankfully, Sirius had been quick to sit right in front of the two, breaking most of your fall. The fact that Remus had stretched one of his hands to keep himself up had been of huge help, but it had also made them end up in a rather awkward position. Sirius leaning back against the stairs, you on his chest, sandwiched right in between him and Remus, whose hands were one on the steps, and the other around your waist, respectively.

“They ought to fix that fucking step,” Remus murmured after he cleared his throat. 

Sirius just smiled. “I don’t know, I rather like what it’s done to us,” he retorted. Remus would have probably smacked him if it weren’t for the fact that both of his hands were busy maintaining the structure and stability of the position they’d ended up in. Sirius leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his temple before he helped him stand back up. 

He was moving you over to him when Remus held his hand up. “Wait, wait,” he whispered. Tentatively leaning on his foot, “shit, no–“ he finished while shaking his head. “Can you take her the rest of the way?” 

“You okay?” Sirius asked with a small frown. Your head was leaning on his shoulder and your breath was almost ticklish against his neck, but he was worried about Remus nonetheless. 

“Yeah, just. Probably a sprain or something,” Moony said as he attempted to lean on his foot again and winced. “Hurts though.” 

“Want me to help you up?” 

“Pads, you’re strong. But there’s no way in hell you carry Vixen and a 90-pound werewolf at the same time.” 

“But I have magic,” Sirius said as he pulled his wand out and raised his eyebrows. Remus gave him a look, something between amused and scared and then shook his head. 

“Just bring her up, it’s not that bad.” 

“If you say so,”  Sirius retorted with a shrug, that he later regretted because you groaned in your sleep. 

“If you wake her up, I’ll hit you.” 

“That’s domestic abuse!” Sirius complained. 

“If anything it’d be animal abuse,” retorted Remus and took a few steps ahead, trying to hide his wince as he stepped on his bad foot. “She probably slept like shit these past few days.” 

Sirius sighed, trying not to think of you alone in that inn, sleeping inside Rem’s jumper near the fire because you missed them both terribly so, but had resulted in staying far, for their sake. “I know,” he sighed and pulled you up bridal style as he walked behind Moony, keeping his eye on the boy’s foot to ensure it wouldn’t give in under his weight.

Once they got to the door, Remus opened it with a spell as Sirius shushed him since you were still stirring in your sleep. Sirius thought it was kind of a miracle that you hadn’t awoken by then since you had rather light sleep, but it was true, you’d had quite a rough day, and he just assumed that was the reason.

Remus pushed on the door and looked inside. “They’re not here yet,” he whispered. “You think they got stuck somewhere? Caught?” 

Sirius shook his head. “They’re probably hiding because of the ghost looking for them. They won’t be back soon, I think.” 

Remus hummed in return, and opened the door fully, allowing Sirius and you to get in. Sirius walked straight towards Remus’ bed and gently dropped you in the middle. 

“I guess we can just share your bed,” Remus said as he took off his jumper and jeans, to change into his pyjamas.  

“Like shit,” Sirius said. “We’re all gonna sleep together.” 

“She’s asleep, we can’t just snuggle up to her!” 

“Like we haven’t done it before?”  Sirius asked with narrowed eyes as he stared at Moony.

“That was different,” Remus said. “You were a dog, she was a fox. I’ve never cuddled her, only Vix.”

“Because she turns into Vixen before invading your bed every single time…” Sirius retorted sarcastically.

Remus sighed, it’s not that he didn’t want to cuddle you, heck he had dreamed of sleeping next to you and Sirius for the longest time, but it was as if he wanted you to want it too. He wanted you to ask him to cuddle you, rather than just impose the cuddles while you were asleep.

“What if she gets upset over it in the morning, huh?” 

“Would you be upset if the two of us jumped into your bed and cuddled you all night?” 

“Of course not! But it’s different, she’s a girl!” 

Sirius tried not to laugh, and he had to cover his mouth to stop the snigger from spreading through the entire room. “Are you for real?”

“And you’ve been dating for longer, I just got here and–” 

“Hey!” Sirius when he noticed Moony was overthinking, leaning closer and placing a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently to get his attention. Moony took a second to focus on the boy’s eyes and Sirius was patient, only speaking again when he was sure Remus was paying attention to him. “We want you with us,” he reassured. “The two of us” -he assented slowly- “we’ve wanted you for a while, we just hadn’t realised it.” 

“Sure she won’t mind?” Remus pressed. Sirius smirked, and kneeled on the floor next to the bed, levelling his head to your sleeping frame. “Wait–” Remus said once he realised what he was about to do. “Sirius wait–” 

But it was too late, Sirius had already placed his hand on your face and pulled some of your hair behind your ear –in a rather similar way to the one he had used when you had been in his arms after that dreadful night– Remus realised. Remembering just how eager you had been to stay on the bed, with him, not as Vixen, but as yourself. Perhaps you really had cuddled before. He was about to stop Sirius with his newfound reasoning, but the boy was already whispering something to you. 

“Hey Starshine,” he said softly, there was a warm smile spreading across his face. “Étoile,” he insisted after not getting a response. 

You open your eyes, sleepily, looking at him and then closing them again. “Yeah?” you mumbled.

“Do you mind if Moony and I cuddle up to you?” 

“But we need to get to the room,” you said, voice sleepy, some words dragging closer to the other. 

Sirius laughed. “We’re already here, we had to carry you,” he said softly. “You fell asleep in the middle of the prank.” 

“No, I didn’t,” you retorted in a mumble. “You were taking too long placing the bombs in the tower.” 

Remus suppressed a laugh when he noticed the small frown that was etched on the boy’s features. “That–” Sirius was about to argue but stopped himself. “Never mind… so, it’s okay if Rem and I cuddle you?” 

You didn’t respond, instead, you extended your hand trying to find him and started pulling him towards you. Sirius smiled and pulled Remus, who had already changed towards himself and changed places with him quickly. That’s when you managed to get a good hold of his arm and pulled him as strongly as your sleepy self managed to. Remus smiled and helped you by pulling the covers and joining you on the bed. Sirius was smiling as he looked at the two and pulled his jacket off. You looked so cute getting all comfortable with each other that he almost didn’t want to go to the bathroom in case he missed anything.

Eventually, Remus had settled on the bed, and you had gotten yourself comfortable on him. Yes, on him. You had half of your body on top of his, much like Vixen did when she cuddled with Remus. “You’re not Sirius,” you mumbled as you dug your head into the crook of his neck, feeling the comforting smell of chocolate and books.  

Remus was taken aback by that, all of a sudden he felt like an intruder, and he started squirming under you. “Sorry,” he rushed out. “Sorry, I’ll call him, wait–” he tried to push you off him.

“No!” you mumbled and pulled him closer again. “I like that it’s you,” you added, your smile tickling the skin of his neck. “You’re really good with cuddles.” 

Remus sighed, a relieved smile curving the tip of his lips upwards. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you confirmed and accommodated yourself further. “Did I ever tell you that you have really nice hands?” you slurred. 

“My hands?” Remus asked as he looked at his palm. “You hadn’t.” 

“Should have,” you said and hummed when you felt one gently running through your back. 

“Thought you said you didn’t want to take advantage of her while she was sleeping,” Sirius said as he stepped out of the bathroom. Remus had to do a double take when he realised Sirius had walked out completely shirtless, and Sirius upon noticing, smirked and pulled his eyebrows up teasingly. “Like what you see?”  

“You’re not sleeping like that,” Remus said as he threw one of his shirts in Sirius’ face. 

“Such a wet blanket,” the boy retorted as he put on Rem’s shirt. It smelled as great as Remus did, but he wasn’t going to let him know that he thought that. In a second he was on the bed as well, opting to lay by your side –technically it was the only available bit– and cuddling up to you, making you end up even closer to Remus than you had been before– if that was even possible. 

“Wait,” Remus said, moving upwards a little and causing you to groan and push him back down. 

“Reeem,” you whined, dragging out the “e” on his name childishly since you were still asleep. Sirius leaned on his elbows just to look at the sort of face his lover had made, he bit his lips, holding back a smirk when he noticed the slight blush creeping up Remus’ neck. If you saying his name made Remus feel anything close to what it made him feel, then dear Moony, might have just gotten himself in a lot of trouble. But the good kind of trouble. 

“Sorry, Luv,” he said as he leaned his head a little closer to yours. “I mean,” he whispered, now trying to look over you and at Sirius, “what if Peter comes? And sees us? Sees me with the two of you…”  

“We’ll just say it’s a dog thing,” Sirius said with a diverted shrug. And then looked towards the boy’s crotch that same smirk now spreading across his lips. “If it’s because of a different kind of problem then–” 

“Oh please,” Remus scoffed.

“Just saying,” Sirius shrugged and allowed himself to lay back on the bed, the smirk on his lips not wavering as he pulled his hands behind his head. “If she were to move that leg just a little to the right–” 

“Sirius.” 

The boy laughed, he had such a beautiful laugh, it was hard for Remus not to want to laugh along with him. “Just saying, I wouldn’t blame you. In fact, I think I could even help you.” 

“Help me? How on earth would you even–” The words died out in his mouth as he realised what Sirius had meant, his blush becoming even more evident now, not that Sirius was looking at it anymore, he had closed his eyes and had a rather satisfied smile on his face. 

“I mean, I’m not sure how it works with boys, but you know I can be very creative,” he added suggestively. “Just the other day, back when you busted in on us, I was doing just that and–”  

“Stop flirting, I’m tired!” You reprimanded, as you pulled one of your hands, searching for Sirius’ mouth and placing it on top of it. 

Sirius mumbled something inaudible and it was Remus’ turn to smirk, “Yeah Sirius, stop trying to get in my pants, Vixen’s trying to sleep.” 

Sirius would have scoffed if your hand hadn’t been on top of his mouth. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to it and killed the lights with a small wave of his wand. You smiled satisfied at his actions and finally took your hand from his mouth, just sliding it down and allowing it to rest below his jaw, your fingers gently playing with the curly strands from the nape of his neck. 

Sirius smiled and leaned a little closer so your hand had better access to his hair. He wanted to get cuddles from Remus too, but perhaps it was too soon. There was a huge difference between joking about getting on his pants and actually doing it. Especially when he –unlike Remus– had no experience in that realm. He had never held a cock that wasn’t his own. Well, that and James’ but that had been an accident and both of them promised never to talk about it afterwards. 

Remus really, had not been thinking of that last night. In fact, he was so tired after the day he’d had that he had fallen asleep almost instantly. Unlike Sirius who spent way too much time thinking about how things would go around in a boy x boy relationship. He ended up concluding that he’d have to ask someone about it. Luckily, he knew exactly the right person to ask. And no, he had not gone for the logical answer –Remus– but instead he’d gone for the second most logical answer, the only other gay person he knew, Tom Harrow. He’d figured your relationship out already, why not contribute a little further? Besides, Sirius did not want to admit it but he really didn’t want to be the inexperienced one in the relationship. He had never been the inexperienced one and he was not about to start now. 

Regardless of how long it had taken Sirius to fall asleep, he had woken up without an issue, in fact, it was Remus the one that was trying to hide his issue, as you stirred, your leg actually close now. 

“Little Witch,” he muttered as he tried to move you a little to the side. Everyone else was asleep. He could hear Sirius’ soft breaths and Peter’s light snoring from the bed opposite. Least they didn’t get caught, he thought as he remembered Sir Pendragon chasing after them both with all his might.

Now though, he was the one that might get caught, and while you would have probably been understanding, he was certain he wouldn’t live it down if Sirius noticed. Not because he wasn’t understanding, but rather because he definitely wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. Thankfully, he was kind of asleep. Unfortunately, you weren’t all that much. 

“Morning,” you mumbled with a soft smile as you propped your chin over your hand and looked up at him. You had a clear view of his sharp jawline and the very light stubble growing across his neck. You had never realised before that he had one, he probably shaved every day. 

He swallowed and adjusted himself to keep your legs as far from his crotch as it was possible –not that much was possible, not with Sirius still pushing you against him, even as he slept. Heck, he’d swore another Godric-damned person fitted on the space Sirius wasn’t occupying. “Morning,” he retorted, the raspy and slightly deeper undertone he had in the morning was as adorable as you remembered.

You yawned, “Did you really carry me all the way from the tower?” You asked. 

“Mhm,” he responded. You turned your head, it was still pretty dark outside, which meant it was either still the middle of the night, or ridiculously early. 

“It’s 4,” Remus said when he noticed you eyeing the window. You groaned and buried your head on his chest, you grumbled something there too, but it was muffled by his shirt. “You can stay here all you want,” he offered, getting the gist of the complaining mumbles. 

“No, I cannot,” you said as you turned your head. “I’m going to have to fly with Prongs and Puppy.” 

“I doubt either of them will want to wake up.” 

“But we have to,” you insisted. “It’ll be suspicious if we didn’t. They’ll think we might be behind the prank,” you added as you accommodated yourself. You didn’t miss the almost hiss coming from Rem. “Sorry…” you said while you turned to him again. “Want me to get off? I’m not sure what came over me yesterday.” 

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said with a smile, still his voice sounded a little strained. “You were sleepy.” 

“Yeah but– I’ve never been sleepy like that. Only that time with the potion you borrowed, I’d even say it felt like I’d taken something similar,” you said thoughtfully. “By Melin! That’s it! It must have been the Mooncalf milk!” 

“What?” He asked with a confused frown. He’d had dinner with you and he didn’t remember any Mooncalf milk in the Great Hall. In fact, he hadn’t even seen you drink milk. 

“You know how me and the girls had Oreos last night?” you said as you started to draw simple circles over his chest. “Well Lily and Mary were convinced we had to have milk with them, but it was pretty late and I was not about to suggest we sneak out to get some from the kitchen to the sweetest little prefect we have–” 

“Thought that was me,” Remus teased with an eyebrow raised as he turned his gaze back on you. 

You smiled, leaned up to him and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw, “I’m sorry, this is Lily Evans we’re talking about.” 

“Should I be jealous? I mean she’s a redhead…” 

“Nah, she’s taken already,” you replied equally teasingly. He scoffed playfully at that, and after a moment of silence, you knew it was time to continue your tale. “Anyway, I remembered I had a spell for transfiguring water into milk.” 

“Oh, no! You know how hard it is to transfigure food!” 

“It’s not like we were trying to make wine,” you retorted, “just milk.... The first time it was terrible, it was too sour to even drink, so we tried again–” 

“And?”

“Well, it was good! Lily’s brilliant at transfig.”  

“But…” 

“Well, both Marlene and I agreed that it tasted an awful lot like Mooncalf milk, so maybe there was something off with the spell, I don’t know… Now that I think about it though, Mary and Marlene were soundly sleeping way faster than they would have on a normal basis,” you yawned, your eyes closing down again. “How come every time I’m intoxicated with a potion I end up with you, or thinking about you.” 

“What do you mean every time? It’s only been twice. My painkillers and today…” 

You shook your head as you yawned, perhaps the sleepiness hadn’t worn off entirely. “No, it was three, you missed the horny potion at the Slug Party.” 

“I beg your pardon?” he said, turning to you again. “You’re telling me you stopped James from drinking a horny potion through those snacks?” 

“I’ve saved his ass more times than he can count.” You nodded. “I mean imagine if he had gotten a boner in the middle of the party, Lily would have been outraged, it would have been so inappropriate!” 

Like the one Remus was trying to hide right then? Would you also consider that one inappropriate?

Remus cleared his throat, “Yeah, totally.” 

Which is why it was rather unfortunate for him that you caught the nervous tone in which he had answered almost in an instant. You turned to him. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gotten one in the middle of a party.” 

“I won’t,” he said resolutely. 

You huffed. “That kind of just makes me think you have,” you said with a small frown and he chuckled, the rumbling of his chest beneath you making you feel quite at ease. 

He could have gone on and told you it was kind of hard to control sometimes –like for example right at that moment– but you looked way too sleepy for a male anatomy lesson. So instead he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on the crown of your hair. The familiar smell he had yearned for, doing one too many things for him. “Shouldn’t you start getting up?” 

“No,” you said and clung to him a little more. 

“What about flying?” 

You groaned childishly at that, you knew he was right, you knew you had to get up, but it didn’t make you want to do it any more than you previously did. Remus was warm and big and comforting, you didn’t want to switch it for the bitter cold you’d feel once you were outside flying. Even with warming spells, his cuddles were better. 

“I’m gonna start thinking you want to get rid of me,” you joked with a pout.

“You’re the one that mentioned flying in the first place, not me,” he retorted. “For all I care we stay here and become suspects number one of the prank. I mean, if we all end up in detention together, I win more time with you.” 

“Ugh, that’s so mushy!” 

“Not my fault you fell in love with the mushy werewolf.” 

“It is,” Sirius mumbled, half awake now. “Happens to you because you’re so handsome.” 

You smiled when you noticed Remus’ heart pace increase, even if it was just slightly. And then you heard Peter stir on his bed, remembering he didn’t know yet. “Did you guys put a silencing spell around us?”

“No,” Sirius said with a frown. Rem shook his head. 

You sighed, “And here I thought the werewolf and his best friend would be a lot better at keeping their secrets,” you joked and finally pushed yourself off Remus, the covers sliding almost completely off him as you did, and he was quick as hell when he pulled them back over his mid-drift. But Sirius noticed, to Remus’ later dismay. 

You were now lying right in between the two, Sirius had been forced to scoot over just a bit as you wiggled for some more space. Your wand was somewhere with your coat, so you grabbed Sirius from the table and cast a silencing spell. You yawned and stretched before you sat up on the bed and rubbed your eyes awake. The window was still pretty dark, and it wasn’t helping you become any more resolute to get up, not when your two boyfriends were lying on either side of you, both stupidly cuddleable and warm. 

“Who cares if we get caught,” Sirius mumbled as he tried to pull you towards him by the waist. 

“Well I don’t want to be cleaning the boys’ bathrooms ever again,” you said as you took hold of his hand, pulling it from your waist, but keeping it wrapped in yours. “The smell… sometimes I have nightmares of that,” you added in an overly exaggerated dramatic tone.

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius said as he pulled you by your hand with a lot more strength, causing you to collapse between them again. He leaned to you with a small smile on his face, “Not even if you get all the cuddles in exchange?” 

“Not even then,” you retorted with a smile and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Come on, at least let’s go there for a few minutes, make sure someone sees us being obnoxious in the air, and then we come back to sleep.” 

“You’re so not going to want to come back after flying,” he said with a pout. He knew you well enough, after practice adrenaline was all over your body, you had never once fallen asleep after, except for that one time you had been drugged.

“Come on,” you said as you leaned over yourself and pressed another short kiss to his lips. “Help me out.” 

Sirius huffed but helped you cross over him to get out of bed. He noticed as you walked to the bathroom, Moony’s lingering stare and his shifting his hips again. 

“You alright there, little Moony?” he asked with a smirk, looking at the bathroom door before turning to Remus.

Remus cleared his throat, “Mhm.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you,” Sirius smirked and nodded towards his lover’s crotch. “Someone woke first, and it was neither you, nor me.” 

Remus’ eyes opened widely when he realised Sirius had figured him out, a sharp, but almost silent intake of breath along with it. Sirius just wiggled his eyebrows, the smile never leaving his face. Remus shut his eyes in a wince and then brought his hands up to cover it. “Please don’t mention it.” 

“Mention what? Your boner?” Sirius said nonchalantly.

“Sirius!” Remus grumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. 

“If it makes you feel better, I think she didn’t notice,” he added. 

Remus just kept shaking his head, drowning in his own embarrassment. Why wouldn’t it just… subdue? 

“And we are going to leave too, so you can take care of it while we’re gone,” Sirius added, the devilish smile on his lips being slapped off by the pillow Remus had thrown at his face. “You’re very aggressive,” he complained. And Remus huffed in return. When you walked out of the bathroom you already had your flying clothes on. Sirius smiled when he noticed you, until he noticed you were walking towards James’ bed, and not towards him. 

“Oi, Prongs, wake up!” you said as you nudged him with your wand. “This time I’ll make it rain instead of snow.” 

 James groaned about you being a terrible friend and threw you a rather disgruntled look when he opened his eyes. “Do you even know what time we got here?” he asked. 

“After us but before now,” you said with a shrug. “You can tell me all about it while we’re doing laps.” James shook his head. “Prongs, it was especially hard to get out of my bed, it was really fucking warm and comfortable–” 

“Bet,” he retorted with a smirk and teasing eyebrow wiggle. He might have been sleepy, but he was always ready to tease. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “I’m not gonna beg, Prongs. You either get out of bed and we go flying, or I go flying, and you become suspect number one. You know I can already imagine Maggie asking me where you were in the morning and me having to feign ignorance by telling her you and Pups stood me up.” 

“Just him,” Sirius said as he stood from the bed. “I’m ready to go.” 

James groaned one more time before he shook the covers off, “I get the feeling this is revenge for the times I’ve woken you early.” 

Sirius stood just behind you with a little smirk. “And she’s got all the right to do so,” he said as he thought of all the times James had hauled him out of bed for practice. Especially in year two when he was determined to make it into the quidditch team and forced Sirius to go flying every single day (including weekends).

James threw him an intimidating look, slightly similar to the one you had done back when you had been polyjuiced into him, and it was almost as terrifying as yours. You were certain it would have made anyone backtrack at least a few centimetres, anyone except for the marauders, at least…

Sirius obviously wasn’t fazed. He just retorted the look with a small pout and then pulled out his tongue. James got up in an instant, thinking perhaps that could intimidate him, but neither you nor him moved an inch. On the other hand, you looked down and pointed towards his boxers, “Nice undies,” you said with a sneaky smile. 

James turned his head downward and realised he’d been wearing the ironic, but ridiculously comfortable snitched-patterned boxers Monty had gotten him for Christmas. 

“Bet Lily would love them,” you added just to tease him further and he turned to you with a mortified expression. 

“I’ll go change,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

“You forgot your clothes, loser,” Sirius shouted and picked up some clothes from James’ trunk and threw them his way when he opened the door of the bedroom. 

“Thanks, Padfoot!” he said before he closed the door again. 

Sirius sighed and walked over to his own trunk, pulling some clothes and shamelessly stripping in the middle of the room. It’s not that any of the people in there had never seen him only in his underwear –or without it– but Remus seemed to be rather done with Sirius when he threw his shirt towards his face. You turned to look at Peter’s bed, just to make sure he was still sleeping before you sighed and shook your head. We have to tell him soon, you thought. Your boyfriends were kind of terrible at being discreet.

James was out of the bathroom in a few minutes and the three of you left the room shortly after, you with the cloak, in case anyone saw you walking out of the boy’s common room. Thankfully, as it was with most mornings at 4:30 AM, the Gryffindor Tower Hallways were empty. 

Once you were in the common room you took off the cloak and placed it and folded neatly before placing it in Steve’s closet. Now that most students knew what awaited them inside, it had become the best place to hide things that you didn’t want people to take. Not that you didn’t add a small locking charm on the drawer you placed it in for good measure. 

The three of you walked outside of the common room not without greeting Lady McDougal as if you hadn’t seen her since last night. 

“Morning!” you said with a smile. “How did you sleep?” 

She narrowed her eyes on you. “There were people coming in and out of the common room with invisibility spells,” she responded in a rather accusatory tone. 

“Oh, what a terrible thing,” you replied with a pout. “And the Prefects?” 

She scoffed, “Oh the Prefects. One of those Slytherin prefects was here slandering all the portraits last night, even Nigellus Black was mad at him, and you know how he is with people from his house!” She said, her tone changing from an accusatory to a higher pitched, gossipy one in almost an instant.

“Yeah?” you asked with a smile, leaning closer as if to hear her better. Sirius side-eyed you while James looked genuinely interested –he hadn’t been there. 

“Mhm,” she said with a nod. “He was calling us old, and loud, and all sorts of nasty things. It was that long-haired boy with the disagreeable face, nothing like our beautiful Sirius.” 

Sirius positively beamed at being called beautiful, especially since he had been a “troublemaker” just a couple of hours ago. 

“Snape,” James sneered. He had disliked the boy for a long time, but ever since that time at the Slug Party where he had called Lily a slur (for the second time) his dislike had grown into outright hatred. Not that any of you blamed him for it, Snape really was an asshole most of the time. Even Evan and Barty had something to say for them –and you never in your life, thought you’d be saying something like that. 

“Oh yes, that must be him,” Lady McDougal added. “Terrible I say, he woke every single portrait in the Grand Staircase, some are still trying to regain some of their lost sleep,” she said as she nodded towards an old sailor who was nodding off with a smoke pipe in his mouth.

You shook your head as you stared as if you completely disproved what Snape had done –the hypocrisy of you being the cause had Sirius biting his tongue not to laugh. “Don’t worry Lady McDougal, I’m sure he’ll pay for his transgressions.” 

“Well, I believe Nigellus already went to talk to Professor Slughorn about it, he’s definitely going to get detention for it.” 

“As he should,” James said resolutely, and now it was you the one biting your tongue not to laugh.

Afterwards, the three of you bid your goodbyes to her and walked towards the storage unit at the pitch to get some balls for practice. Your hand was still slightly sore from a couple of days ago so James spared you from doing any of your normal keeper training and instead had you speed flying since you had always been so good at it. 

You had been right, the cold was bitter and it was not nearly as comfortable as cuddling your boyfriends on the bed but it was as exhilarating as it had always been. The sharp wind hitting your face as you cut through the air was like getting recharged. The sleepiness from before dissolving into the very air you were surging through. 

You did a few laps around the Ravenclaw tower, partly because it was the thickest and partly because you knew the Ravenclaws woke up rather early, so there would be more than one witness that the three of you had been out there doing your daily morning flights. James and Sirius were beating a bludger back and forth and even got shouted at by an older Ravenclaw who seemed rather done with their obnoxiousness. 

“Sorry mate,” James said as he shot the bludger away from their tower, Sirius flew towards it and managed to throw it back towards James that had now moved towards the owlery instead. You smiled and decided to fly that way as well. You had some treats for Reese in your pockets and thought it would be a good idea to surprise him in the morning. James turned to you with a confused gaze as you landed on the sill and climbed over the railing. 

“Vixen?” He asked turning to look at you for a second before turning back to look at the bludger that was rather fast, walking towards his face and beating it away.

“Just gonna feed Reese!” you shouted back, now you were behind the railing, and walking inside the small tower. 

You already knew Reese’ spot, so you walked straight towards it and pulled out some treats from your pocket. You had to pull your wand out first, and that’s when you heard a loud shriek. A large white owl, opened its wings and plummeted towards you. Luckily you were quick enough to get out of the way. The owl crashed onto the ground and spun until he managed to get up. Reese’s food had ended up on the floor and a few other owls had now flown to pick it up, but the white owl seemed angry, he was looking at you as he continued to cry, now opening his wings in a rather threatening manner, although he wasn’t flying towards you. 

“Hey,” you said with a conciliating tone. You weren’t particularly good with animals, but you had never been bad either. You remembered Solacis (who was really interested in owls) had once mentioned a bad fall could badly hurt them, and you were scared that your getting out of the way –even if it was to protect yourself– would end up hurting the owl. “Hey,” you repeated, “It’s okay. Do you want some food? Is that it?” you asked as you pulled some food from your pockets. 

The owl leaned closer, and you thought he was a lot calmer until he bit your finger in the most vicious bite you had ever gotten from an owl. “Oi!” you complained as you tried to shake him off, but he seemed relentless. “Please! I mean no harm,” you repeated. Your hand was trembling as you tried to pry him off with the other, but he was using his feet to try and claw at you. Thankfully your protection equipment was thick enough. 

That’s when you noticed whose owl it was. You faltered, as you stared at it. He bit deeper and you allowed him without complaining anymore. “I’m sorry,” you said then, knowing why he had gotten so viciously mad at you. You probably would have too. You closed your eyes and tried to place some images into the small owl head with some inverted legilimency. The same you had used on Arkalis Rosier. 

The owl looked at you confused, his bite finally softening. 

“Desmaius!” James said a bolt of light left his wand. 

“No wait!” you said, but the spell had already hit the owl, and she had fallen, knocked out on the floor. The rest of the owls seemed to be genuinely offended at James’ actions and were now all altered and flying straight towards him. Some were pulling at his hair, making it even messier than normal while others were straight-up clawing at him. He was batting his arms all around himself as he tried to pry them off. The only owls not getting involved were Reese and the Potter’s owl. Even Lily’s owl seemed to be angry at James, but he was just screeching from his spot. 

You sighed, picked up the white owl in your hands and ran towards James as a small owl clawed at his eyebrow. You grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out, the owls following the two of you. “We need to get out!” you shouted as you handed him his broom and crossed over the railing, white owl still in your hands. 

The owls were just behind, still screeching and following James. “Quick, on your broom, Prongs!” you shouted, and he did as told. You mounted yours right after him and held tight with one hand as you tried to steady the other owl on the other. 

“Why are you bringing that beast with you?” he asked. Your finger was still bleeding from its bite. The blood made the injury seem a lot worse than it actually was. Especially since you had wiped some of it on your hand.  

“Because he’s not bad!” you retorted as the two of you started to fly away, the owls seemed rather insistent on following the two of you. 

Sirius, who was soaring just behind a tower, smiled when he spotted you, “Hey guys, why are you–” he started, and then he noticed the angry flock of birds flying behind the two with determination. He gasped and quickly caught up. 

“What the hell did you do to the owls?” He shouted as he managed to catch up with you. 

“He stunned one of them,” you replied. 

“What the fuck, Prongs?” 

“He was biting her!” He retorted in defence, the three of you picking up the pace as the owls shrieked behind you. The same Ravenclaw dude opened his window to tell you off but shut it immediately when he noticed the angry owls chasing behind you. 

“I had it under control,” you retorted. “Follow me,” you added before Sirius could complain and then took a sharp turn, straight towards the forest, you thought perhaps you could lose them there. The two boys did as told. You shut your eyes and tried to concentrate on those half-transfigurations as you entered the forest. A few owls left before even flying inside the forest, and you managed to lose the rest of them after a few minutes. When you were sure they weren’t following, you slowed down the pace and landed. 

The three of you were panting, Sirius’ hair was a mess of unruly curls, James’ face was badly gashed and your hand was still bleeding. 

“You should have left that beast there!” he said with a frown, which caused him to wince shortly after. 

“She’s hurt!” 

“Is that the one that bit her?” Sirius asked as he noticed his red-stained beak. 

“YES!” James added, exasperated.

“He had a good reason,” you retorted. Both boys looked at you like you were insane. “I–“ you breathed, “I have her master’s wand,” you finished. 

“Nina’s owl,” James said, almost in a whisper. 

You nodded. “She hasn’t seen Nina in days, she’s probably scared and lost, and then she saw me wielding her wand, she must have thought I–” you sighed, “She must have thought I took it from her, by force.”

Sirius gave you an apprehensive look.  

“Her name is Nieve,” you added. “Nina got her as a birthday present last year, she asked me how to say Snow in different languages, and picked the Spanish one. Besides, I think she hurt herself when she tried to attack me and clashed on the floor. It must be her wing.” 

Sirius wished he was surprised that you took the owl even after it bit you, but it was something you would do. “You’ll bring her back to your room?” James asked.

“I think so,” you retorted, thinking if you could get help for it. Taking Nieve to Kettleburn didn’t seem like the best idea, but bothering Pomfrey with an owl didn’t seem too wise either. Not when she would care more about your bitten finger and James’ cheek. “Sirius, could I have your handkerchief?” you asked. 

He handed it over and you quickly wrapped it around your finger. You walked out of the forest and towards the Gryffindor tower. Some of the portraits –the ones that weren’t asleep– threw you some judging looks. And by the time you were in front of Lady McDougal, they were already whispering amongst themselves. And it was probably because the three of you looked like an absolute mess. 

“My goodness, did you three fight with Pixies while you were out flying?” 

“Just owls,” you said as you motioned towards Nieve, still knocked out in your hands. 

She pouted at you, “Password?”

James answered this time around and the three of you were allowed inside the common room. Lily was already awake, and working on some homework with Remus when she spotted you. 

“What the hell?” She asked, approaching you, looking at Sirius’ blood-stained handkerchief and then at James. “Jamie,” she said reproachingly and placed both hands around his face. James leaned down a little bit, clearly basking on her attention. Remus was up and next to the two of you in seconds, only lagging by a small limp that you barely noticed.  

“What the hell happened to you?” 

“We got chased by owls,” you explained with a shrug. Remus stared at the white owl still in your hands.  “We’re fine though.” 

“That does not look fine,” Rem said. You opened your mouth to speak. “If you dare say ‘I’ve had worse’ I will pour Firewhiskey down your gash,” He threatened. 

Sirius smiled at that, took the owl from your hands and created a small pillow nest for him in the middle of the table. 

While he was busy with that, Lily had already sat James down on the sofa and was standing between his legs. She cleaned her wound with some water and cotton, that you had no idea where she’d gotten. All the while Remus was carefully unwrapping Sirius’ handkerchief from your finger. The blood had dried a little and now it was kind of stuck and dry. 

He hissed when he actually saw your wound. “Bloody hell he might as well have bitten your finger off!” 

“She,” you corrected. 

“What?” 

“It was Nieve,” you added as you nodded to the owl. Sirius had already gotten a small bowl with ice-cold water and handed it over for Remus to dip your finger inside of it. 

Remus scoffed, and after your hand was cleaned, he pulled his wand out and pointed at the gush. “This might hurt a little,” he warned and then whispered something. You winced but didn’t make a sound. Your finger was like new in a matter of seconds, not even a scar. “You’ll explain to me why you brought the owl that bit you while we have breakfast,” he said matter of factly. 

“So bossy,” you complained as you curled your finger. 

“Hey, Vix!” James called as he turned his face to yours, you stopped looking at your finger and turned to him. “Lily wants to cure me, but don’t you think I’d look cool with a scar?” 

“You’d look ridiculous,” Lily retorted, almost exasperated. 

“I wouldn’t! Vix thinks Moony’s scars are cool!” 

You smirked. “Oh, they are,” you said reassuringly. “But not everyone’s as handsome as Moony, I’m afraid you can’t pull off the scar look.” 

“Oi!” he complained. “This one looks cool, though!” He added as he pointed at his face.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I can’t believe we’re dating,” Lily said exasperatedly and pointed her wand at James’ face. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” James said with a bit of a pout and got cured by Evans who decided to leave just the faintest of it uncured so he could get an almost invisible scar since she knew James would probably be proud and boastful about it anyway. “Thank you, my heroine,” he said and pursed his lips to get a kiss. 

“What’s this, kiss the nurse?” she asked, diverted. 

“Mhm, to make me feel better. Didn’t you say muggles did that?” 

You smiled, “Yeah, I remember she did.” 

“Don’t you want me to feel better, huh?” James asked with another pout, earning an eye roll, and then a short kiss from Lily. Sirius cheered while Remus whistled. 

“You’re ridiculously childish,” she huffed, looking at the three, including at you who stared at her while you wiggled your eyebrows.

“But you love that about me,” Prongs retorted with a satisfied smile. 

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” she said as she pulled him off his seat, and the two of them walked towards the exit. 

“I’ll be expecting that get well soon kiss as well,” you said with a teasing smile as you picked Nieve in your hands, you weren’t sure how you were going to help her, but you were not going to leave her all alone in the common room where she could panic and bite someone else. 

Sirius looked at the empty common room and then at Remus with a knowing look, Remus seemed to understand what he meant perfectly. A second later they were both leaning towards you and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek at the same time. But rather than pulling apart, they both lingered near your neck.

“How is that for a get well soon kiss?” Sirius whispered.

You bit your cheeks in order to keep a smile from spreading. “I don’t know I–”  

Remus had pressed another kiss, but this time just behind your ear, and it was not an innocent peck, he was almost sucking, it made your knees weak.

“You were saying,” Sirius smiled as he kissed the middle of your neck, the spot he already knew made you moan. You felt your knees wanting to buckle underneath you. 

“You coming or what?” James asked as he popped his head back inside. “Oh,” he said when he spotted both Remus and Sirius’ heads buried in your neck, “I guess you might be.” Your eyes shot open as you gasped in disbelief, James snickered. “Just don’t do it in front of the kids,” he added as he nodded towards Nieve. 

Sirius pointed his wand at James and his head disappeared before sparks flew his way.

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[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part XII

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

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This morning you had been greeted by Feyre, her chirpy voice had a sense of urgency to it as she asked if you had any plans for the day. “We are hosting a very formal and stuffy figure from the Court of Nightmares, and we would feel better if you weren’t around for it.”

Your brows raised, but Feyre quickly cut in again. “Not because we don’t like you or anything, but our visitor is quite.. atrocious. I wouldn’t subject anyone to his presence if necessary.” She spent a moment looking for the right words, but whoever this was clearly was not someone Feyre liked or even tolerated.

You nodded, “I’m no dignitary, I’m not sure my presence would be necessary in the slightest.”

You felt a pang in Feyre’s chest, something quick and gone in a flash. Guilt, maybe. It was getting easier to feel the emotions of the people around you, however it was difficult to distinguish everyone’s emotions. The way Feyre felt happiness was different than how Rhysand felt it, causing it to be more work for you to decipher individual emotions.

But something about Rhys’s emotions felt familiar.

“Was there anywhere you’d like to spend the day?”

You thought for a moment, having spent the past few days exploring the city’s restaurants. “Is there a library in Velaris?”

Feyre’s eyes lit up in delight, “I know just the place. Azriel will lead you there.”

Your heart stopped momentarily, blinking. You hadn’t seen Azriel since your power display a few days ago, and when you had asked, Feyre told you he had been gone on a mission for a few days, having just got back in last night.

But that didn’t mean he was far from your thoughts. 

The first night he was gone you were plagued with dreams about him, his shadows cloaking the two of you in a thick darkness as you fell through the skies. As the nights went on, the dreams became more intimate - both sexually and emotionally. One night you dreamt of holding his hand, that dream immediately being followed up with a dream of him bending you over the vanity and forcing you to watch the two of you in the mirror.

You weren’t sure what it was, but you knew being near him would be difficult, these feelings so new for you.

“Are you unavailable?” Your words came out stuttered, uncertain. She quirked a brow at you before her gaze softened. “I am, yes. So is Rhysand.”

Mother’s tits.

“I am terribly sorry, this was very.. Abrupt.” She chose her words carefully, a mask of politeness on her face. “But I can assure you that you’ll be fine with Azriel.”

Something pinged in your chest, a sharp warmth crawling your skin at her words.

“Thank you for the reassurance.” 

She nodded before heading to walk away and your head reeled at the conversation as her steps retreated. Why was it your powers only really worked on males? Were their emotions that much simpler to untangle and assign names to?

You were lost in thought about how unreadable Feyre was to you when a soft breeze carried the scent of pine and night chilled mist.

Azriel.

You turned, his hazel eyes standing out amongst the shadows covering his face. He smiled at you, each day the bags beneath his eyes growing smaller, the crook of his lips getting bigger.

And more inviting.

“Did you sleep well?”

Your face flushed, thinking back to the lack of sleep you had gotten. Every time you had closed your eyes, it was as if your brain were playing a story between the two of you, a moving picture of a make believe life, flashes of joy and heartbreak and domesticity.

You coughed it away, “yes, thanks. Did you?” 

He merely hummed in response, deepening your blush. He looked at you as if he knew what you were up to all night - how your sleep was plagued with images of his hands, his legs, his mouth. How in a last ditch effort to find some peace, your hand slipped beneath your nightgown as you thought about the vivid dreams of his fingers, his scarred hands in lieu of your own.

The breath rushed from you. Had you said his name while thinking of him?

You could feel his amusement in your chest, and you pushed him slightly, not moving him in the slightest.

“Can you take me to the library?” You were quick to change the subject, not wanting to know exactly what your neighbor heard you doing. He nodded, his face looking at you with less amusement and more kindness. 

It made him radiant.

“Where is this library?”

You grabbed a coat, tightening it around yourself before heading toward the front door. You stopped when you realized he wasn’t following you, turning on your heel to look at him. He nodded his head toward the balcony, moving toward it.

“No.”

He put his arms across his chest, one of his siphons glowing a deep blue on his chest.

“Why not?”

“I don’t fly. Wingless, remember?” You moved your hand behind your head to show the empty space your wings took up. Your words caused a pained expression to cross his face, but it was over just as quickly as it came.

“Yes, I am aware. Are you aware I have two arms?”

You gaped at him, “you can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like an unserious male?”

“You look very jovial to me.”

He scoffed, “will you please come with me to the balcony so I can take you to the library?”

“Why can’t we walk?”

“It’s impossible to get there on foot.”

The surprise was all over your face. “Is this a flying library?”

“No.”

“Then there must be a footpath somewhere.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His shadows peeked over his shoulders, as if they were laughing. “There is, but it’s a 10,000 step staircase. What would you prefer?”

You thought it over, contemplating being in the sky, in Azriel’s arms, or passing out halfway up the steps.

You chose the former, Azriel hoisting you into his arms bridal style. He carried you as if you weighed nothing, walking you to the balcony, each step heating your face. His hands wrapped around your waist and legs, his touch doing something to you that you were praying to the Cauldron wouldn’t shift your scent enough for him to notice.

“Are you ready?”

You swallowed hard, before nodding, face full of heat, “is it too late to say I’m afraid of heights?” 

He squinted, “just a little late.”

His wings stretched out behind him, his knees bending slightly as he took off into the skies, his large wings flapping quickly to get you both airborne. You screamed in his hold, causing his grip to tighten around you as he held you. “I’ve got you.”

His voice did little to soothe the panic inside of you. Your arms tightened around his neck, holding on for dear life. You hid your face in his neck as he flew high up in the sky, gaining altitude. 

“I always thought flying was a sacred thing.” Your words were meant to distract yourself, but they only caused you further discomfort as he responded.

“It can be. Some Illyrians go on mating flights.”

Your brows raised, moving in his arms to get a better look at his face, but he continued looking forward. 

“Have you ever been on one?”

The flap of his wings halted suddenly, his flight pattern stuttering, causing the two of you to dip suddenly before picking back up, a soft scream coming from your lips.

“That is a very private question.” His smile lessened, and you felt like a reprimanded child with his response. Your mouth went dry, desperate to change the conversation and to have him change the look on his face.

“Do you like flying?”

He sighed, happy for the shift in conversation. “I do. I like flying with my brothers.”

“Brothers? I thought you had only one.”

His flight stopped again, and you heard him curse underneath his breath.

“Yes I have two brothers. They’re both a pain in my ass.”

You giggled, your fingers subconsciously playing with the hair on the back of his neck. Once you realized what you were doing, you pulled your hand away, not wanting to see the look of annoyance you thought you would find.

Instead his face was covered in disappointment, quickly covered up with stoicism.

“Why’d you tell me you only had one?”

He shrugged, the movement strange as he held you. You could tell he wouldn’t elaborate more, opting to stay quiet. His shrug was enough of a dismissal for you to steer the topic away from his lie.

“I don’t have any siblings. At least none that I know of.”

He nodded, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, “it’s not your fault.”

You turned away, watching a massive castle come into view. “Wow.”

You took in the stone architecture, the structure built right into the side of the mountain. You could see where the ten thousand steps came from, a direction you’re glad you avoided.

Azriel banked to the right, flying the two of you to land directly on a balcony. His landing was incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the landings you had seen in your village.

“Thank you, Azriel.”

“You can call me Az.”

You looked up at him, and you felt something like vulnerability in your stomach.

“Okay, Az.”

Now you felt butterflies at how happy he looked at the nickname.

“I’ll be back for you in a few hours, don’t fly off with any strange bats.”

You giggled, looking out the window. “As if I didn’t fly here in the arms of a strange bat.”

Az smiled, and his emotions felt familiar in your chest as well. Like Rhysand’s, but different. They felt stronger, something inside of you urging you to fix it. His chest felt heavy, but like the weight was manageable. As the two of you spoke, it got lighter and lighter, occasional flickers of joy and amusement slipping through.

He nodded, “yes but I’m the least strange of them all.”

With those words, he turned and walked away, taking off from the balcony, but not before he glanced back at you one last time before he disappeared in the sky.

After he left, you craned your head, looking around the library. You didn’t see anyone, but you heard shuffling and occasional floor scuffing, so you knew at least someone was here. You walked around for a while, your hands feeling the stacks as you searched the titles, pulling anything seeming of interest. You had pilfered through Rhys and Feyre’s library at the River House, but this one was much, much bigger.

After picking a stack of books you could barely carry, you wandered through the floors, looking for the perfect spot to curl up. You weren’t sure how Azriel was going to find you, but he only told you to stay in the library, and you were technically following his instructions.

A few floors below, you found a quaint little corner nook that had a fireplace, a few cozy chairs, some blankets, and the walls were covered in old maps. You smiled, satisfied at how perfect the spot seemed before dropping into the chair, opening the first book in your pile, quickly getting lost in the pages.

You weren’t sure how long you had been engrossed in your book, half of it finished, when footsteps interrupted your reading. You looked up, expecting to find Azriel, but the male before you wasn’t him. He wasn’t even Illyrian. You had never seen a full high fae male before - Rhys was the first wingless male you had ever seen. This male looked… different. He was incredibly attractive, long blonde hair and brown eyes observing you. He had a small button nose that curved up at the end, and you were taken aback by just how pale he was. His skin was practically translucent, the color of his veins visible through his skin.

You didn’t know fae could be so pale. 

You smiled in greeting, nodding politely. He looked up and down your body, and you straightened from the relaxed position you had taken while reading, putting a bookmark in your book before setting it down.

“Well, I don’t believe I have ever been so engrossed in a book myself. It must be fascinating.”

You smiled, your lips straining at the action. He made you feel weird, his emotions a confusing ball inside of you you began attempting to untangle. “Oh, yes. I love a good mystery novel.”

His ears perked at your words, his lips quirking in a smile that made him more sinister than attractive. 

“I am quite fond of mysteries as well.” 

He thumbed through the shelves that surrounded your nook, silent strides across the rug, making his way further into your cozy corner. “And perhaps I have found one.”

You gave a half laugh, confused at his words.

“What’s a pretty birdie like you doing away from Illyria?”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, I’m no birdie.”

His eyebrows raised, an expression of faux shock on his face. “Forgive me, I can be insensitive to your people’s ways.” He stopped in front of the fireplace, the light casting his light in shadow. “Where were you from?”

You eyed him wearily before telling him, “Tartu.”

He moved to the left, his gaze set on the map on the wall, his finger tracing around a few spots near your village, creating a line between the spots and your village.

“In such a small village, I imagine Velaris is a fairytale.”

His words held no malice, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of slime coating his words as they hit your ears.

“Yes, I would agree. It’s a beautiful city.”

He walked the room, eyes lingering on the books lining the walls, his entire presence filling you with dread. “Rhysand makes interesting choices in terms of what he keeps close to the vest. Interesting choice for a High Lord to hide the city he spends most of the year in.”

Your eyes widened at the disrespect toward Rhys - in the few weeks you had spent in Velaris, no one had spoken ill of him to you. “I beg your pardon, I’m not following.”

He rubbed the dust away from his fingers, extending a nod toward you. “He’s a man shrouded in secrets, be cautious of what lies beneath the fog.” He walked toward you, picking up your hand in his. His skin felt like ice as he brought it to his lips, his kiss sending chills through your body.

“What a pleasure it has been, finding you here.”

You search his pale eyes for some flicker of warmth, the ice you found inside making your insides burn with cold. “Likewise.”

The lie rolled off your tongue, watching his blonde hair swish as he left. The room felt suffocating in his scent, and you were never quite able to get as comfortable as you had been before his visit.

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[mydadleft471]

Carian Tea And Bitter Medicine

Summary: You've fallen ill and Messmer is deeply worried for his wife. Over the coming days, you slowly recover.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings other than talk of throwing up. (yuck)

This was a request from @writing-fanics! I'll link it here if you want to see the post. This was super fun! I love writing for the red-haired snake man (clearly that's literally all my blog is lmao). Thank you for requesting and I hope I did it justice!

As always, thank you all so much for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! It means the world to me and I'm so happy I've gotten back into writing!

Messmer had barely left your side for the few days. He was worried sick. No matter how much his servants and healers told him you’d be alright with some rest and medicine, he couldn’t seem to believe them. He thought you were dying, and he could only sit idly by while you suffered. Watching you writhe felt like a stab wound, searing and sharp, right to his chest.

You, his darling wife, looked terrible. A sheen of sweat covered your body even in your lightest nightgown, yet you stayed wrapped in blankets. Chills would wrack your body one minute, and the next you’d be pushing at the blankets because you were overheating. You’d refused almost all food except for a light broth, though it still threatened to come back up. Water wasn’t any easier, and your condition had seemingly gotten worse. Your skin was pale and your eyes didn’t shine like they usually did.

Messmer tried to keep himself busy to drive away the thoughts that plagued his mind. He’d fetch you a cold washcloth and lay it delicately over your forehead, or help you sit up when you’d request a drink of water. You were too weak to lift anything, so he’d carefully tip the glass back enough for you to take small sips.

You’d been confined to the bed for five days due to your sickness. Each morning he’d wake and hope to see you better and healthy once more, but it hadn’t happened yet.

He didn’t sleep well last night, jolting awake in response to any sound you’d make. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he saw you trying to sit up. He hurried to your side immediately, helping you.

“What bothers thee, wife?”

“I just wanted some water. I didn’t want to wake you. I know you haven’t been sleeping much these past few days.” You croak out.

“It bothers me little,” he says while moving to fetch you a glass of cool water. “How dost thou feel this morning?”

“I’m actually hungry, so I’d assume that’s good.”

“I am so very happy to hear that, beloved. Whatever thou wishest for, it shall be done.” He smiles for the first time in days.

“Right now,” you gesture towards him, “I’d love some water.”

He sits beside you on the bed and moves it towards your lips. Your hand finds his and, though shaky, you help tilt the glass back. After a few sips, you tap his wrist and he returns the glass to your bedside table.

“Thank you, husband.” You shoot him a weak smile and his stomach flips. Marriage did little to dull the butterflies you gave him.

“What dost thou desire for breakfast?”

“I don’t mind, really. If we have any left, I’d love to have some of that delicious spiced Carian tea Rellana gifted to us.”

“Of course, beloved.” He gently guides you to lay back down. One of his serpents nips at the blanket and brings it over you. You pat its head in thanks.

“Wilt thou be alright for a short while?” His heart twists uncomfortably thinking about leaving you alone, even if it is just to request food for you.

“Yes, my love. You never stay away for very long.” 

“It pains me to leave thee.”

You grab his hand and squeeze weakly.

“I know. But I’m hungry.” As if on cue, your stomach growls.

“I shall return shortly, my wife.” He kisses your forehead and makes his way towards the door.

Outside, he’s pleased to see a dozen of his most trusted knights. When you fell ill, he ensured you’d be safe from any outside threats. His men were fiercely loyal to both him and his beloved wife.

Noticing the creaking of the door, Fire Knight Salza bowed in greeting.

“How is our Lady, my Lord?”

“She is slowly recovering, though still sick.”

“Shall I send for a servant to bring her food?”

“Yes. She’s requested Rellana’s specialty Carian tea.”

“Ah, a personal favorite of mine. I’ll see her desire fulfilled, my Lord.”

Messmer nods and returns to you, shutting the door swiftly. You’re still laying down on the bed, the covers pulled over you. He sits on the bed and smooths a few rebellious strands of hair down.

“I probably look awful.”

“Never.”

You roll your eyes. “You always were a poor liar, Messmer.”

“I shall never utter a word of disgust or mocking towards thee, beloved.” Even like this, you were beautiful to him.

“I know.” You bring a hand up to cup his cheek and he moves forward, sighing into your touch.

“If I must describe thee, I would say thou lookest sick. Nothing more.”

“How sweet of you. I’m sure if I looked in a mirror, it would shatter.”

“Nonsense.” He kisses your knuckle. “I shall hear these false notions no longer.”

“Fine. But I could probably use a bath.”

“If that is thine desire.”

“Only if you bathe me.” You playfully wink at him. His face reddens.

“Dost thou know no decency?”

“No,” you reply, giggling. “Not around you, at least.”

A sudden knock at the door distracts him. He releases your hand and rises from the bed.

“Enter.” His voice sounds so different when he speaks to anyone but you.

A servant comes in with a small tray of food. They gently set it down on the table beside you and bow to you both before leaving as quickly as they came.

You push yourself to sit up. Messmer moves to help you, but you refuse and slowly get up on your own. He shakes his head at your stubbornness, but he’s happy to see you regaining some strength. Just yesterday you could barely lift your head.

You look over the tray of food and see a bowl of steaming broth with some noodles, a vial of medicine, and your Carian tea. Messmer brings the tray closer to you and you move to pick up the bowl of soup. You feel the worry radiating off of him at the prospect of you burning yourself.

“I’m alright, my love. Just a little weak.” 

You take an experimental sip of your broth and nausea doesn’t immediately make you want to spit it out. Pleased, you continue to take small sips and bites. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, and soon, the bowl is empty. Messmer looks ecstatic that you’ve managed to eat something. 

“How dost thou feel?”

“Fine, actually. Can I have my tea?”

“Medicine first, beloved.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease. He bites his tongue and gives you a look.

He grabs the small vial and takes the cork off. It smells horrible.

“Tell me, does this concoction taste as badly as it smells?” His nose crinkles in disgust and his serpents hiss and recoil.

“Unfortunately.” Taking the vial and tilting your head back, you pour it all into your mouth at once and swallow as quickly as you can. The bitterness coats your tongue and almost burns. You will yourself to not gag and your face scrunches up in displeasure. You can’t wait until you’re better so you no longer have to taste this.

You gesture towards your tea and Messmer hands it to you. You drink some and the bitter taste of medicine slowly recedes to a soothing spice on your tongue. 

“Would you like some?” You gesture towards the tea.

“No, beloved. I would not steal thy favorite tea from thee.”

“You can steal my medicine.” You smile at him from behind your cup.

“I wouldst rather drown.” You laugh.

“Me too.”

“Thou art braver than I.” He refers to your medicine. He places the empty bottle back on the tray and his serpents eye it warily.

You finish your tea and set it down with the rest of your dishes. Messmer moves the tray back to the table for a servant to take away later. He smiles, happy that you’ve finished everything brought to you today. You seemed to be getting better, and for that, he was grateful. Some color had returned to your smooth skin and your eyes seemed more alert.

“Would you come hold me?” You shoot him a pleading glance.

“Thou knowest my weakness, wife. I shall never say no to thee.”

“You just did.” He gently scoots into bed beside you.

“Hmm?” He tilts his head.

“You said you wouldn’t steal my tea. You technically said no to me.” You pout.

He shakes his head, drawing you closer in his arms. His serpents wind protectively over you and you sigh, content.

“I am afraid thou art taking mine words too literally.”

“Maybe.” You mumble into his chest.

“Sleep. Exhaustion clings to thee.” He strokes your hair.

He expects a response from you, and a witty one at that. Perhaps something about how he’s confusing exhaustion for not bathing regularly. But he looks down and you’re fast asleep, tucked into him. He wonders if the Carian tea puts one to sleep. If so, he needs to have a plentiful supply.

His darling wife is getting better, and it did not even require him to pray to Mother. He will dwell on the implications of that later.

[its-time-to-write]

I wrote this in light of the Euros last night. If you don’t know, England lost to Spain and it was absolutely brutal. So for context, this fic takes place post-match in Berlin. (I also knocked this out in forty minutes to distract myself from the fact that I have to rewrite the mafs fic from scratch😭😭)

enjoy.

twentysomethings

The creak in the hotel hall is the only warning you get before there’s a knock on the door. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s on the other side, so it’s no surprise when you open the door to reveal Jamie Tartt.

“It’s late,” you comment when you see him. You tilt your head. “You alright?”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. You move aside to let him in and shut the door.

You move to sit on the bed, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Shit, sorry,” you say. “Didn’t want to change into pajamas when I got home.”

You pull the England kit over your head, leaving your undershirt on. You do your best to conceal the name on the back and toss it on the floor beside the bed.

You’ve known Jamie for years. He was friends with your cousins growing up, so you’d seen him on and off since childhood. You’d ended up dating for a few months, and your parents had been surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

“He’s been in love with you for ages,” your mum had said.

You had laughed. 

Jamie had done a spectacular job working past your defenses. “I won’t leave you,” he promised. “I love you.”

And you believed him.

You’d sworn off dating after a particularly bad heartbreak, but Jamie was determined.

And who are you kidding, you loved him too. You would have done anything he asked. 

You did. You moved to be with him, figured out how to make your job work remotely, sacrificed just so you could be with him. But he was worth it.

The breakup was a shock, to say the least.

He never could give you a straight answer as to why, and before you knew it you were on a flight back home. 

The rumors started a few days later which was silly, because no one even knew you and Jamie were dating. Or that you knew each other. Or anything.

No, the rumors had nothing to do with you; they just linked his name to a gorgeous blonde model, saying he’d been seeing her for weeks.

That hurt worse than anything else. The evidence was mixed, not terribly reliable, but there was enough of it for you to consider it may contain truth.

He didn’t text, didn’t call. Didn’t try to convince you it was a lie, so you believed it.

Why else would you have ended?

You thought you knew him, thought he wouldn’t cheat. Breaking up and moving on is one thing, but sleeping with someone else while you were together… it was earth-shattering. 

Especially because he knew.

He knew how hard it was for you to trust. He knew what he was doing when he held your hand and kissed your temple.

You did know him, though. He hadn’t been cheating on you, it was just the stupid rumor mill, but you were still broken up so it didn’t fix anything. You still had no explanation.

All this time, and you can tell exactly what he’s thinking. You know exactly why he’s in your room so when you pat the spot on the mattress next to you, he doesn’t have to say anything before he’s on top of you.

He’s pent up, all anger and sadness, but he presses soft kisses along your neck and jaw in a stark contrast.

—

“We should shower,” Jamie says when you’re done. It’s the first thing he’s said that isn’t your name or false promises that he loves you.

“I’m tired,” you say. It’s true; your head’s spinning and if you close your eyes for longer than a minute, you’ll fall asleep.

Jamie makes a face, not quite a grin but certainly not the frown that’s been affixed to his face and says, “You run the shower and I’ll change the sheets, yeah?”

You groan and roll out of bed as Jamie rummages through the closet for extra sheets.

“You weren’t with mum and Simon,” he says in the shower later.

“No,” you say, swiping your thumb under his eye.

He’s silent, waiting for you to say more, but you don’t. You’d been in the stands with the general public, as you’d always preferred. Less likely to be noticed that way. 

He says, “You were wearing an England kit.”

You shrug. “Not a real one. Didn’t want to spend £89 on something I’d wear once. Not like anyone can tell.”

“Hm,” he says, turning off the water.

You shiver. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Fuck no,” he says, wrapping first himself and then you in a towel. He looks at you questioningly and you half-nod, resigned to the fact that you’re going to let tonight run its course. 

Jamie picks you up, bridal style, and kisses you as he carries you back to the bed.

“We’re going to have to shower again,” you warn.

“No, you’re going to have to shower again,” he corrects as he kisses your hipbone.

You yawn, and he props himself up to look at you. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” he teases.

You smile, “You’re the one who came to find me, my love.”

The words roll so easily off your tongue that you won’t realize exactly what you said until later. If Jamie catches it, he doesn’t say anything.

An alarm goes off early in the morning. It’s not yours, you’d set yours for 10:00am. Jamie reaches to turn it off then pulls you close. 

“Gonna sneak back?” you yawn. He buries his face in your neck in response.

“Jamie,” you sigh. “You have to go back.”

He still doesn’t say anything so you wiggle to get face-to-face with him. He’s centimeters away, and you indulge in a moment to study his face. This is the last time you’ll have him in your bed, so you’re allowed to enjoy it.

You ask, “You did well, you know that, right?” but he shrugs and tries to turn his face away.

“Jamie,” you say again, “you did well. I’m so proud of you. You played in the Euros for god’s sake. You were in the starting eleven for the finals! That’s amazing. You made it so far.”

“Not fucking far enough,” he mumbles, and you kick him.

“Don’t be an asshole to yourself. Enough people will do that for you.”

He shrugs again. “You coming back to England?” he asks in an effort to change the subject, and you let him.

Not that this topic will be much easier than England’s loss to Spain.

You shake your head. “Going to Ireland to see the family.”

“Then England?” he asks, but it’s with a false kind of hope. He already knows what’s coming.

“Jamie.” You taste the way his name sounds on your tongue for one of the last times. “I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’d go anywhere you asked, do anything for you. I’d let you hurt me over and over again, but- it’s just not healthy. You know I love you and I know you love me. But we love other things more. You’ll always choose football over me, and I’ll always choose my job over you. You broke up with me, if you recall, and you never fucking told me why.”

He whispers, “Will you forgive me?” and the way he toys with your hair makes you realize he already knows your answer.

“I was only mad at you that Monday,” you say. “I shouldn’t have called and I shouldn’t have yelled, but that was the only day I’ve ever been mad at you. I’ve already forgiven you.”

There isn’t much more to say after that. Instead of trying to fill the silence Jamie pulls you closer under the covers. You lay there for far too short a time before you say, “We need to get up.”

Unwillingly, Jamie lets you go. He’s still in bed watching you as you begin to change.

“That’s got to be a crime,” he groans as you clasp your bra. 

“Fuck off,” you grin. “You’ll see some again.”

You don’t say, you’ll see mine again, because he won’t. He wipes sleep from his eyes and sits up.

“I don’t want to leave,” he confesses, and you understand.

“This isn’t real life,” you tell him. “Besides, now you get a holiday. It’s going to be okay.”

Jamie sits for a moment longer, then gets up to put on last night’s clothes.

“Mum gave me your room number,” he says when he’s all dressed.

“I figured,” you respond. “She’s the one that invited me.”

Jamie nods. She’d told him the whole thing after the match and he’s glad he hadn’t known you were in the stands.

You say, “Well.”

Jamie says, “Well.”

He crosses the room to pull you into what is arguably the best kiss of your entire life.

“I love you,” he says between kisses. You push him gently toward the door, but he’s still kissing you.

“I love you,” he says again.

“Jamie,” you reply, but you mean the same thing.

He kisses once, twice, three times in the doorway before taking a last long look at your face.

He’s crying again, and it’s worse seeing it in person than it was seeing it at the match.

Something wet slides down your cheeks, and you realize you’re crying too.

“You have to let me go,” you choke out. “I’m so sorry. You have to.”

He nods, gripping your hand.

Jamie presses his forehead to yours one last time. “I love you,” he whispers.

You breathe, I love you too, then he’s gone.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

the brothers when they find mc awake late at night

-> you can't sleep and the brothers find you at 2am

my sleep pattern has been horrible lately (may or may not be due to the smart choice of drinking double espressos at 10pm) so I came up with this idea :))

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: (implied) difficulty to sleep, casino mention, maybe a little based on my actions because it's implied mc is awake because of caffeine in some parts

-----

Lucifer

he leaves his office and finds you sitting on the living room couch while everyone should be asleep

hons lectures you a bit as if he didn't sleep an average of 5 minutes every day these past few weeks

it's all because he's concerned though (and he might ban you from the coffee maker after 4pm as if he doesn't drink a cup every hour)

lucifer is weak for you if you'd ask him to sing to you or hold you so you can sleep, he'd do it

Mammon

mammon just came back from sneaking off to the casino and his heart dropped when he heard a noise (he thought it was lucifer but it was just you)

he's like why are you awake and you are thinking the same thing so you two are like that spider man meme where they point at each other

anyways after mammon got a chance to take off his shoes and jacket he offers to go to bed with you but 'only because it would help you, not because he wants to be close'

Leviathan

his average bed time is like 4am and he feels fine so he doesn't make a big deal out of spotting you awake late at night one time

if you want you can come play games with him in his room until you feel tired enough to fall asleep, he recently got this new multiplayer one too

if you don't feel sleepy after a few hours levi will think it's time to sleep anyways, there's rad tomorrow and you have to wake up before beel eats all the breakfast

Satan

satan's average bed time is pretty late too, though not as late as levi's

he actually found you in the kitchen right before he was going to sleep, he was about to brush his teeth and you were just scrolling through devilgram at 2am on a tuesday morning

can't sleep? he offers to let you read one of his books, because they make him fall asleep easier so it might work for you too

if you ask nicely satan might read the book to you and even cuddle you

Asmodeus

he has the least terrible sleep pattern out of all the brothers but this night he had some event to attend, which made him arrive home very late, he just wants to sleep asap now

asmo had a whole heart attack when he saw you on the couch near the entrance, he instantly tried to convince you to go to sleep

like you can do your nighttime routine with him and then he'll hug you until you fall asleep if you'd like

Beelzebub

he was just heading to the kitchen for a snack but you were already there enjoying leftovers from dinner

beel is actually happy you're there, you two can share food and talk, but what are you doing awake at 2am? he's a little worried honestly

after you're done with your snack, beel offers to help you fall asleep if you'd like

you can sleep in his room with him (and belphie too but that man has been sleeping since 5 hours ago)

Belphegor

he actually doesn't find you at 2am because he's already sleeping and won't wake up until maybe 11am

he finds out you were awake because you told him you slept like 5 hours last night

if you told him why, he'll side eye you every time he catches you with anything that has caffeine in it when it's not the morning

anyways he likes you enough to tolerate you waking him up next time you have trouble sleeping, he'll gladly help you fall asleep and see a nice dream

[twola]

Sorta got carried away with the prompt list…(I must be ovulating because DAMN the pregnancy prompts got me going)

But #161, 154,151,140,125- where the reader is preggo and miserable walking around camp so the gangs giving out ideas (sexy time) and Arthur’s like ;) then later on the reader is like ya know what get over here.

Do with it what you will.

You do the best with anything you type!

Xoxo

Oh - trust me, I am into this.

I'm also eight months pregnant myself so I am SUPER into this. Am I projecting something here? Perhaps…

Pain Relief

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You are very over it at this point. Really. Very over it. It’s a struggle to get yourself out of the cot that you and Arthur share. 

The morning sun beats down on the worn canvas of your shared tent, and you know it's by some divine providence that Miss Grimshaw hasn’t summoned you to work yet. Or maybe it was Arthur snapping at her when he saw you struggling to carry a basket of laundry.

That must be it.

But a laze you are not - even now, when your swollen stomach makes any kind of movement difficult - when your sleep is nearly non-existent and the pains and swelling and overall discomfort are driving you crazy.

Pushing yourself up, you huff, annoyed that seven months ago you were chasing down bounty hunters on horseback and now getting up out of a cot makes you lose your breath. 

God, this was terrible. Finally getting around to standing up, you glance at yourself in the small mirror Arthur uses for shaving. Your chemise stretched taught over the swell of your belly. The dark circles under your eyes from lack of quality sleep. Sighing, you run your fingers through your long hair to tame it, or at least attempt to. After fighting with the fabric of your dress to cover your frame, you shove your feet into your boots and breathe out heavily as you sit back on the cot to tie the laces. God damn everything is a struggle with how swollen your belly is.

By the time you make it out of the tent, the midmorning sun beats down, and you shield your eyes for a moment before you feel a small tug on your skirts. You look down to see Jack give you a toothy grin, one small hand fisting the cotton of your skirt and the other clutching the most recent toy Charles had carved for him.

“Auntie, you’re so big! You look ready to pop." Jack pipes up excitedly.

You laugh as you hear a cluck of disapproval as Abigail follows in her son’s footsteps, “Jack - that’s very rude of ya - shouldn’t make comments about ladies like that.”

“It’s alright, Abigail,” You smile at her as she frowns down at the boy, “I do feel ready to pop.”

“Y’look like the baby’s dropped… ain’t long now.” Abigail’s eyes trail down to your belly as she shoos Jack off to play elsewhere.

“Too long in my opinion.” You roll your eyes and Abigail chuckles in return.

“Ladies!”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice cuts through the peace of the morning. Abigail’s gaze looks past you to where the sharp disappointment came from, and you frown as you hear footsteps stomp ever closer before the camp matriarch pushes into your view.

“There’s laundry to be done,” Susan eyes you up and down, “You can certainly sit and still do the washing. C’mon, get to it.”

She waves her hands at you dismissively, Abigail rolls her eyes and starts to head over toward where the other women have started doing the day’s wash.

You scowl at Grimshaw’s retreating figure, rubbing your aching lower back as you too make your way over to the edge of the camp, where the large tub is filled with soapy water and the pile of men’s shirts seems to be overflowing. You sigh tiredly, finding the stool 

Mary-Beth places her hand on your back slightly over your own, massaging gently as you sigh in a moment of temporary relief. 

"Try walking, I hear it helps. Tilly and I will cover for you for a few minutes.”

You thank her quietly and slowly make your way to the woodline of camp, taking a few minutes to walk back and forth before giving up and sitting down on the stool, letting out a long, labored breath as you wince in pain.

“Y’know….”

You open one of your eyes to see Karen across the tub, a mischievous look on her face. Cocking your eyebrow, you wait for her to continue.

Karen smirks, "You should try having sex."

Well - volume was never her strong suit. Across the camp, the men’s conversation falls silent as several pairs of eyes glance at you.

You flush from your hairline to your chest as you dunk a shirt into the tub, trying to ignore the stares you know you're getting as Karen merely chuckles.

“Aye, Arthur- sounds like you're needed elsewhere.” Javier chuckles and you're mortified.

You spare the quickest glance up in his direction, the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You can see Arthur’s smug grin from under the rim of his hat.

-

You silently scrub at the rest of the laundry load, handing shirts to Tilly for her to wring out and hang on the line.

“Don’t let her get to you, you know how Karen is. Tilly places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently to assure you before returning to the laundry. You sigh, taking another shirt and dunking it into the water.

A pair of boots land in your vision before a hand reaches down toward you. You look up to see Arthur ready to pull you up to stand, a gentle smile on his face.

“C’mon now sweetheart.” 

You sigh and take his hand, secretly grateful for the assistance to stand up. He steadies you before pulling your hand to his lips and pressing them to your knuckles.

“How’s about you lay down for a little.” He offers, holding his arm out to you as you wind your own around it, letting him walk you slowly to the tent, holding back the canvas for you to step inside. 

You let out a long breath, bracing your lower back with both hands for a moment before sighing. There was just no getting comfortable at this point.

“C’mere, let me help you.”

Arthur stoops down on one knee and loosens your bootlaces enough that he can pull them from your feet one by one. You let a breath out once both boots are off, unable to deny it felt good to get your swollen feet out of them.

“Better?” He looks up at you for a moment and you nod, your hand moving from his shoulder that you were balancing on to your lower back again, idly rubbing at near-constant ache that has settled there. 

Arthur stands up and places a kiss to your forehead before turning around and taking his hat off, placing it on the small table where he kept his shaving kit.

Karen’s suggestion echoes in your mind as you watch him run his fingers through his short hair absentmindedly.

You roll your palm over your distended abdomen, frowning.

“You don’t have to lie and tell me you want me.” Your voice cuts through the silence and Arthur swings around to look at you, puzzled.

“Darlin’, it ain’t a lie. It’s never a lie.” He responds softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Really? Lookin’ like this… it does something for you?”

Arthur blushes before looking down at his boots. “Well, I… uh... Yes?”

You quirk your eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m a goddamn watermelon-”

“You’re pregnant-”

“Literally swollen up like a damn cow-”

“C’mon now darlin’-”

And damn, if you can’t hold back the tears from collecting on your eyelashes as you spin away from him.

His broad arms wrap around your swollen waist, pulling you back half a step and against his large frame. One hand spreads wide over your belly as you feel him press his lips to the top of your head.

“I… ain’t the woman you was chasin’ after anymore.” You admit with a cracking voice, the tears spilling down your cheeks as your hand falls upon his over your belly, “Who knows when I’ll be able to ride or shoot or do anythin’ like that again.”

His lips move from the top of your head down to your earlobe, where he nips gently. Arthur’s low voice rumbles in your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Whole world knows you’re mine -” He pulls you another half backward and you gasp as you feel the long, hard line of him against your rear, “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing alive, all big with my child.”

“A-Arthur - ” You whine as one of his hands cups a swollen breast through your blouse.

“Have half a mind to keep you like this.” Arthur continues, his other hand moving downward to slide between your legs and the needy sound that escapes your throat is loud enough to make him shush you as he presses at your core through layers of cotton.

Your hands fly to grasp his forearm as he gently gropes at your breast, and you turn your head up toward his and he greedily pushes his lips upon your own, tongue pressing inside your mouth as you moan into his.

You have no idea how long it is you spend wrapped up in his arms - your hips pressing back into his, his hands groping at your breasts and cunt, your knees shaking as you pant into his mouth. 

Those damned hands of this, they keep you under his spell as somehow, he unlaces your skirts and they fall to the ground in a heap around your ankles. He spins you around in his embrace, and his lips fly to your neck as he opens the buttons of your blouse. You let him pull the sleeves down your arm, leaving you in just an old cotton chemise stretched tight over your belly. The seam of your bloomers, soaked, chafes delightfully against your cunt.

It’s only another moment before he’s shrugging your chemise down over your shoulders to free your breasts.

“What’s gonna be the best for you?” Arthur whispers into your ear, his warm, somewhat rough palm engulfing your breast, squeezing it gently.

Your head tips backward as you lean against him, a high and flighty moan bubbling up from your chest. “On- on my side-”

Your chemise flutters to the floor, along with your bloomers, his hands pushing the cotton down of your body.

“Go on, get in the cot and get comfortable.” Arthur nips at your ear again and gives a playful swat to your rear.

You nod, eyes falling from his face to his hands as he pulls his suspenders down his arms and begins unbuttoning his work shirt. You back up two steps to the cot, slowly sitting down upon it, your gaze refusing to leave him as he strips himself down.

With the speed of a man on a mission, he rids himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing and stalks the few steps to the cot.  You turn yourself over to lay in it, burdened by your stomach as you let out a long breath as you finally settle down on your side, facing the wagon that makes up the side of the tent.

Arthur slides into the small cot next to you, that warm, big hand finding its way to your belly as he situates himself behind you, pressing all six feet of his frame against you, his body hard, hot, and wanting.

“You tell me what feels good, darlin’.” He mouths against your neck as his hand retracts behind your hip to stroke his cock.

You moan lowly and press your hips back against him, you can feel his smile on your skin as he guides himself to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses into the rim of your cunt, and his hand moves to sling your thigh back over his, opening you to him more.

“Mm, that feels good.” Your voice strains as he slides himself deeper into you, a deep, satisfied rumble coming from his chest when his hips press fully against your rear, fully sheathed in your cunt.

His arm swings across your hips, pulling your thigh backward even more as he languidly rolls himself into you. His fingers find that small bundle of nerves as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You mewl aloud at the stimulation, panting as he continues to press himself into you. His low, rough voice whispers in your ear, vacillating from sweet nothings to filthy utterances. The slide of his cock into your cunt is the constant, grounding thing as his fingers that rub at your clit speed up and slow down.

“A-Arthur-” you pitifully whine, gasping as you huddle toward that precipice. He grunts into your ear as he slightly picks up the speed of his hips rolling into yours, still gentle. He pinches at that nub and you’re gone, your legs shaking and hips seizing as you meek through your release, your slick glossing his cock and dripping from your body, even with him filling you.

“Tha’s my girl…” Arthur slurs as his hand moves up to cup at your lower belly, “Christ, I ain't ever gonna be able to stop fillin’ you-”

His murmurs fade into a groan as he presses forward one final time, burying himself deeply in your warmth as he shudders his release into you.

You sigh in contentment at the feeling, warmth blooming from your joined hips. His lips touch the back of your neck as his large hand rubs gently at your hip as he catches his breath.

Arthur gently pulls out, you gasp slightly at the feelings of the loss of his flesh and the dripping of his warm spend from your body. He shushes you with a kiss over your jaw, rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Your hand covers his over your belly as you lean back fully into his embrace.

“Much better.”