#wasn’t cramping until after I knew :|

[bugsybaritone]

How it feels to menstruate

[tonycries]

We Neva Play!

Synopsis. Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, séx pollen, innappropríate use of jujutsu (like a LOT), pússydrunk Gojo, limitless, both are teachers, creampíes, oraI (fem), síxty-nine, banter, breaking the bed, FÉRAL Gojo, pússy-slappíng, BRÉEDING, spítting, reader’s CT mentioned, Yaga’s had enough, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.3k (cries)

A/N. Lacked Gojo in the manga so I present to you more Gojo <3

“Gojo, I will kill you before that curse can-”

“Aw, man!‘ Yuji whines over Nobara’s cackles, reluctantly slapping a few thousand yen onto her outstretched palm. He thuds his head frustratedly against the cool vending machine they were crouched behind, “That was rigged!”

The girl scoffs, counting her hard-earned winnings victoriously, “I told you they wouldn’t even make it until the school gates before fighting. It’s not rigged, it’s common sense - not that you’d know anything about it.” Satisfied, she sneaks a look over the side of the machine at the shrinking backs of you and a too-happy Gojo Satoru. “Besides, we’ll get a rematch soon enough. My money’s on her, double or nothin’.” 

“You really think they’ll kill each other before the mission is over?” Yuji muses, eyes locked on Gojo’s infamous smirk - only widening the closer he drives you dangerously towards an aneurysm. “I bet-”

“No.” Megumi’s deadpan interruption startles them both. And as much as he’d like to pretend he wasn’t cramped with the two idiots stalking their squabbling teachers, he unfortunately, very much, was. “I bet ten thousand yen they kill each other before the mission is over. Or worse - end up dating.”

---

“A love hotel.”

“A love hotel~” Gojo echoes, with a hand clutching faintly at his chest. Swooning over you with each word, “Now, usually you’d have to take me out to dinner first, but for you I will make an except- mmpf-”

Now, Gojo knew he could’ve easily blocked your attack - hell, he didn’t even have to bat an eye to activate limitless. But where was the fun in that? Giving into your elbow digging sharply into his side, he’s only cackling at your venomous words, “I could take down both you and those special grades, y���know?”

“Oh yeah?” he hooks a long finger underneath his blindfold, showing off that infuriating wiggle of his snowy brows. “If you’re so great, then why did Yaga have you assigned with me, pretty girl?”

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples, “Only because someone-” And oh, if he had the most renowned eyes in all of jujutsu, then you had the most withering glare. “-completely skipped out on his last mission to stuff his face with sweets, n’ now I’m wasting my time babysitting. So this time, I’m in charge.”

Ah, a woman after his heart - in more ways than one, for sure. 

“Yes, ma’am~” 

Dramatically, he mimics the zipping of his lips shut, readily following you towards the flashy building standing out amongst the bustling Tokyo street. Walls painted such a suggestive pink, neon lights flickering special discounts at passersby - it would have almost been scandalous to be caught outside such an obvious love hotel such as this - if it hadn’t been for the mission, that is. 

“Didn’t think our first date would be at a love hotel.” he chuckles as soon as you reach the gaudy, perfumed reception. And that flickering, wide-eyed stare of the woman behind the counter is enough for Gojo to prattle on, “Now, tell me what room you want, honey-” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, you’re pressed helplessly against his toned front. “-they’ve got candy-themed, anime-themed- oh, they’ve even got a train station-”

“Best to keep our train station fantasies to ourselves-” You simper, subtly stepping on his foot with your own, but that only topples you against him. Instantly, another strong arm snakes around your waist to support your weight, as if second nature, “-isn’t that right, dear?”

And you swear, you could spot a tiny dimple when the ends of his mouth curl even wider into a saccharine sweet grin. “If my memory serves me right, you were the one that dragged me here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shivers run down your spine - ones he runs the soft, rounded pads of his fingers up and down along. You’re sure you looked like a disgustingly loving couple to the poor lady working at the counter. And to put her out of her misery, if anything, you recite, “A-anyways- apologies. Room 143, please.” Managing to plaster on a weak smile, it only falls flat when the receptionist hands you your key - and two complimentary condoms along with it. “I- uh- thank you?”

And it’s all you can do to not just shove off the 6’3 thorn at your side when he steers the two of you to the elevator with a disbelieving, “Only two?” 

Though, you’re sure it wouldn’t do much against him, anyway. It never has - because ever since you’d stepped foot through Jujutsu High’s towering gates as its newest teacher, Gojo Satoru seemed to make it his mission in life to get on each and every single one of your nerves. The only mission he’d willingly do, mind you. Insisting on interrupting your classes, hiding you little sweets in your office, pushing your buttons in front of-

“Well, that went as inconspicuous as ever.” Gojo hums, reeling you out of your little reverie. “Of course, it did, thanks to me.”

“‘Inconspicuous’ my ass.” you groan, hastily punching in the ground number for your room. Yaga had said that the veil was already completed around the entirety of the curse-infested floor by now, good - the faster you could get away from Gojo, the more intact your sanity would be. “If it wasn’t for me smoothing things over, she’d be filing a complaint against the sleazy man in a bad Kakashi cosplay at this very moment.”

“Hey! I didn’t see you putting on any Oscar-worthy performances. And my Kakashi cosplay is gre-”

DING!

The elevator doors open to a seemingly normal, barren hallway - not a hair or person out of place - though, you knew better. And as much of a fool as Gojo acted, he did, too. 

His steady arm drops from your side when you stretch out your limbs in preparation - shit, you forgot it was still there. “Watch and learn, Gojo.” you hum.

“Hell yeah, I’m watching.” 

A beat of silence. Two. 

With his thick blindfold, Gojo’s expression was almost indescribable - but your skin prickles with the slow, sultry sweep of his eyes down your figure. But before you can snap back at his loaded tone, it happens- “Don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

Curses burst out of the fourteen heavy, wooden doors along the narrow corridor - some small, some big, all crushed easily under the power of your cursed technique. And neither of you had to utter a word to know you’d both be trying to best the other. 

You’ve got one slobbering mess of a curse trapped underneath your heel, locked in combat when Gojo calls out from somewhere across the hallway. “Still stuck on that grade one?” Your jaw ticks, pressing the curses face deeper into the carpeted floor of the bedroom, “I’ve already located one of two special grades- better keep up.”

Fuck, curse him and his six eyes. 

Not wasting any more time, you easily exorcize the remaining curse, feet carrying you door after door. Most of the infestation had been cleared out by now by the both of you, splatters of red and limbs lining along the hallway - you only felt bad for Ichiji having to organize a clean-up after this. 

The next time you saw Gojo’s flash of cerulean eyes was from outside another bedroom. Goading, “Heh, need a little help, Gojo?” 

“Oh fuck-” he wraps two arms around the special grade’s flowered horns. Powerful legs bowed, cloudy hair mussed, blindfold dangling somewhere around his neck - he was beautiful. And it was fleeting moments like this that you held an ounce of begrudging respect for him. Ripping those offending appendages, “-off. Roughed up the other special grade for ya since you were so slow, sweetheart - consider it a lil’ gift for this date.”

“Oh, fuck you-”

In the midst of it all, Gojo still manages to flutter his long lashes your way, “Well, we are in a love hotel, after all. Just say so if you wanna get those pretty hands on me.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Earth, Gojo Satoru.”

His loud bout of laughter follows you to the final hotel room - 143, coincidentally. It was decadent, almost-spotless - had it not been for the towering curse hunched over in the middle. You could tell that Gojo had been here, because its pink, scale-like skin was already bruised.

You slam the door shut behind you, better to keep the property damage to a minimum. Hastily getting into action - it wasn’t anything new, after years of exorcizing curses you’d grown used to predicting their pattern of attack. But it was only after a pressurized, finalizing punch of yours lands right on the curse’s thumping neck that you find yourself growing weary. Cautious of the tiny, red flower that’d sprouted out of thin air on its skin. Immediately, you think back to Hanami, because it was blossoming - unnaturally fast - petals unraveling to explode in sparkly pollen-

Shit. Your head whirled, eyes watery at the heady scent, “Wh-what the fuck-”

It takes only that split-second of distraction before more blooms pop! pop! pop! all down the curse’s figure. It just heaves with fatigue when they all burst out the same powdery substance from before.

“Fuck- what is this-” your thighs clench together, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. You stagger back towards your opponent, and it seems this last-ditch Hail Mary caused more damage than good. Because the curse was lethargic, barely even flinching when you’re back to pummelling it with your cursed technique. Again. And again and again-  “-if only you’d taken to making perfumes- instead-”

It falls to the ground with a last ringing screech, the flowers withering away instantly. 

But the damage was done.

And you’d never felt so drained - even after your most difficult of missions. Never sinking down onto your knees this way, skin heated, mouth salivating. The air in the room was just thick with something so delicious - syrupy, with hints of pine and cherry - traitorously, you find yourself inhaling deep, addictive lungfuls of the scent. 

“Smells so-” your brows furrow, digging a hand into the plush bed beside you to clamor back onto your feet. “Smells like-”

Gojo. 

Your entire body jolts with something so dark - visceral, gasping when you feel your underwear just drench. Mind such a melty mess filled with only Gojo Gojo Gojo - and before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the door-

Bang! 

The aroma only grows heavier near the door, blood thunders in your ear at the deafening crash from outside. Shit, had you locked the door- 

Bang! Bang! BANG-

Fuck, neither of you were making it out alive. 

It’s the first clear thought headlining through your mind for the first time in what feels like ages - only several, syrupy-slow seconds later does it follow up with the realization that you’re now standing face-to-face with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Who looked absolutely crazed right now - teetering unsteadily on his feet, his head was bowed, fingers trembling. The mahogany hotel door in mere splinters under his hands.

“F-forgot you could teleport?” It comes out a yelp - pained, almost - and the very first note of your strained voice is enough to have his entire, powerful body wracking with a gasp. Goosebumps pricking along his milky skin, he finally - finally raises his eyes.

Shit, he’s finally lost it.

Because Gojo’s gaze was burning, lids hooded, dark pupils blown so wide that his eyes looked almost black. He didn’t look at you with that usual teasing glint, no, he looked like he was going to rip you apart. Twitchy, drinking in a shaky, drawn-out gasp of the scented air. You almost had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade masked as your coworker. 

But it’s real - it’s so, so real and you can’t deny it when he’s baring you with such a vicious grin. Plump lips pulled back to show off those glinting canines, “You.”

“Satoru.”

His lips are on yours - pressing and pressing so hard you were sure it bruised. But fuck- you’re kissing back - because how could you not? The candied seam of his mouth was addictive, breathing you in like his last breath of fresh air.  

“Kiss me-” he spits into your slack mouth, as if he wasn’t already. Two hands surging forwards to cup your cheeks even deeper, “Kiss me kiss me kiss- fuck-” That last little swear almost comes out as a whimper, and you can only keen when Gojo wraps his pretty lips around your tongue, sucking lewdly. “Y’smell so sweet- taste so sweet-”

“Sa-t-toru-” you’re managing out. It just then hits you how weak your knees have gotten, sinking down to straddle his muscular, jutted-out thigh. It makes him throw his head back when you’re just dragging your hips in a long, languid stripe. “Look what you’ve- what you’ve gotten us into.”

Pulling away to lick lazily up, up, up your neck, his teeth bite just at your thundering pulse. “Me?” he hisses out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m the one fuckin’ responsible for this?” It almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “I’m responsible for this-” And his startling eyes sink down to the darkening wet patch on the middle of his leg, your flimsy panties sticking to his uniform. “-am, I?”

“Yes.” your defiant fingers are trailing down the hem of his shirt, ripping apart those buttons in hasty, urgent tugs until it was off completely. “If only you hadn’t half-assed it with this special grade then-”

Gojo huffs out in humorless laughter into your lips - the same one he’d give a persistent little curse, and it makes your hairs stand on end. Wondering how high the kill count would really be. In the hundreds? Thousands? “I thought you were supposed to be the babysitter, huh?”

Millions. 

“And aren’t you the strongest?” A trembly hand of yours ventures its way down his flexing body - down, past those plush pecs, past his flinching abs, dipping teasingly just above where you could feel the hiking tent in his tight pants. “How did you end up this hah- bad?”

You’re holding back a groan at the long, solid inches straining to break free of his thick fabric, you could feel the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing length under your palm. Fuck, water was wet - Gojo Satoru, unfortunately, had a big di-

“You.”

It’s low, ragged - so quiet that for a second you think you almost imagine it. 

“You.”

His lips are sagging open once more, greedy gaze widening - and you knew it was glowing now. Tiny flickers of blue lightning flickering at the ends of his eyes with every mindless gyration of your palm down his bulging, clothed shaft.

“It’s all because of you.” 

Yeah, you would be lucky number one on his kill count when he breaks - or maybe he would be on yours

Your back is hitting the mattress, and the buttons of your poor uniform are hitting the velvety floor - absolutely nothing against the strongest, who was now tearing through your clothes the same way he was ripping apart those curses from before.

Shit- did he teleport you two?

“Don’t know-” Gojo pants out feverishly, and at that moment you weren’t sure if you’d simply babbled your thinking out loud or whether he could read your mind. “Don’t- don’t know- fuuck.” Low, feral groans crack at the back of his throat with each inch of your exposed skin, and before you know it, he’s surging forwards into the naked valley of your breasts. Breathing you in so filthily, “Just know that I need you- fuck m’gonna fuckin’ kill someone if I don’t-” 

Each spat out little word is punctuated with an intoxicated push and pull of Gojo’s hips. Angrily rutting in-between your thighs until it was just a clingy, syrupy mess of slick and precum between you two. 

“Oh-” your lips drop into a soft gasp, reaching out your fingers to smear a sinful sheen down them. It glosses all the way to your wrist with each newly beaded wave of his precum. 

It feels so dirty the way you’re pushing the very tips of your fingers into your mouth. Gojo can only look - can barely even breathe when you slur, “You taste so good, too, Toru.”

Oh, that was it.

Gojo Satoru had finally thought he was getting control of his sanity - he finally thought the effects of that cursed technique were wearing off. But now - at that little nickname - he feels something snap. The lamp on your right bedside table shatters.

And usually, Gojo’s taunting was tinted with a little laugh, an inkling of fondness in them - but right now they sounded pained. Wrenching out of his broad chest, “Fuck you. Need you- do you know what you’ve done.”

Your useless skirt - along with your soaked, see-through panties - are ripped off of your squirming body. And for once in his life, he’s speechless - eyes almost bulging out of his skull, nails digging into the plush of your thighs. 

Your clothes end up in a pile of sad tatters on the floor, and you felt a strange inkling that maybe you’d end up much the same. 

Smack!

Two, large fingers slap down harshly right on your drooling cunt, slobbering down a glistening coat of your pretty juices down his wrist. “Pay attention.” He’s pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neglected nipples, your stomach, down, down, down in a flurry until the very tip of Gojo’s nose was nudging at your pulsing clit. “Because if m’losing control I need you to stop me.”

The dim hotel lights flicker when Gojo meets your cunt in a sultry, self-indulgent kiss. And through it all, one thing burns into your dizzy mind - his eyes. Maddened, gleaming with slight blue cursed energy in-between your legs. 

“Oh.” you’re gasping at the sheer burning stretch of your thighs being pushed to their limits. Gojo didn’t need that much space - he just loved the way you whined. “You’re s-so much better when you shut- hah!”

His tongue shuts you up by flicking harshly over your puffed-up clit, letting your syrupy juices slide their slow way down his eager tongue. “There we go- good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Hah- all it took was some shitty curse to get you hah- honest like this f’me, huh?” 

“Don’t act like- ngh!” you’re barely able to drawl the words out, which makes him grin a dangerously content grin. Sharp teeth clenching teasingly around your angry clit, throbbing and slicked glisteningly with his spit, “Don’t act like I’m the only one- this way- hah-”

It was true - every hollowed-out suck on your needy clit had him grinding onto the mussed-up mattress. Those silken sheets hiking up with every drag of Gojo’s weepy erection down onto the bed - imagining you underneath him. It wasn’t enough - it never will be. 

That realization was enough for him to break out into a drunken grin, hot tongue smearing open your folds over and over- “Yeah? What about it? Does it scare you that I want to fuckin’ break you, sweetheart?”

He was crazed. 

Dangerous. Depraved. 

“N-no-” you give such a harsh pull on his soft strands, he’s leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. Looking for the life of him so used - you just knew there’d be thousands that would kill to see the strongest so fucked-out, ear blearily blinking open, flushed your favorite shade of pink up to his cheekbones, mouth chasing those thin spit strands to your glossy pussy. “Jus’ think s’unfair how I’m the ah- only one havin’ fun right now.”

You’re shutting up his pussydrunk protests about how he is having fun and to “please, please, please don’t stop” by crashing your soft lips against Gojo’s. Wrenching him upwards, he lets himself be so used. 

“Need you-” you’re gasping, biting into his pouty lower lip. Nosing slowly up his bobbing Adam’s apple, you gasp in that heady combination of pine and candied cherry. “Wanna see if you hngh- taste as good as you smell right now.”

“No fuck- fuck you.” he hisses, wrangling you to straddle his angrily fidgeting hips. 

Running a hand down to fumble with his metallic belt - already loosened. But you don’t have the patience - or the sanity - for that right now, because you’re tugging, shredding. The tell-tale buzz of jujutsu fizzing at your fingertips when you tug down the entirety of Gojo’s pants. Kneading the soft peaks of your palm over that sensitive divot on his head, “Who’s fucking who?” 

“Me.” And there’s another smack! to the heated place of your cunt, Gojo’s own fingertips having you see stars with his power. 

He takes the distraction to just drag you upwards like some ragdoll, easily maneuvering you around. “Turn- turn around f’me- thaaat’s right, fuck-” You’re jostled until your shaky thighs straddle either side of his head, puffed-out pants condensing hotly against your cunt. Your own coming face-to-face with the fat head peeking out from the hem of Gojo’s boxers. Head swimming with how angrily pink he looked, already winking with a drenched sheen of precum up at you. “Arch that cute back a lil’ more- lemme see.”

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders to catch the fucked-out grin on his lips, dragging his tongue out to lap up every bead of your sweet sweet juices, he tilts his pliant head back against the pillows to let it slide down his bobbing throat. “Y-you’re really that pussydr- hngh!” 

Another branding smack! leaves you gushing even more down his tongue. “Yeah, s’what I fuckin’ thought.” he spits out a thick wad of spit into your messy cunt. Gliding his wet fingers over the dripping mess that puddles onto the his chest below. “-can’t even run your mouth- so desperate f’me. Taste so good-” Using his inhuman strength to haul you down onto his pretty face.

Before he knows it, he’s slotting the thin tip of his tongue past your quivering hole. Taking him so greedily, the elastic ring of muscle stretches all around his form, clamping down as if to milk something delicious. 

And Gojo knows - he thinks with whatever’s left of his rationality that maybe he should slow down, take a second to fuckin’ breathe. But, no, he’s making out with your ravaged pussy like he’s angry he hasn’t done this before - way back when he first met you.

A slender fingers pushes past your swollen folds to curl deftly into your gummy cunt, molding up into that easy divots at your walls. He’s feeling around so depravedly for your g-spot, aching to make you feel just a drop of the sheer need he does. 

“Fuck!” Your velvety walls come crashing down around his fingers, knuckle-deep inside your ravenously swallowing cunt. Only getting faster - dipping perfectly to press up against your spongy sweet spots. Shit, he really was good at everything, huh? “You’re so…”

“What was that?” Gojo’s tittering, “Can’t hear you over your cute cunt, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer - you don’t need to, because all the breath in his lungs exhale out in a low cascade. Hiccuping around your candied clit when you take Gojo’s thick, weepy tip just past your lips. Wrapping just around the sensitive slit, it makes him gasp, it makes him keen, it makes him spit out some sloppy swears into your cunt.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over my cunt, Toru–” you bat your lashes, humming around his velvety head. Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have taken longer admiring him.

Because he was so massive, so pretty with prominent veins thumping at the roof of your mouth. Girthy, rotund end a throbbing red, gradiating into a creamy pink that meshed in delicately with those neat tufts of white at Gojo’s toned pelvis. So delicious. Big enough that you were already wondering just how you were going to walk out of this bedroom - if either of you are in a walking state - or even alive - that is. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” his mouth refuses to part with your puffy pussy lips, even if it was to talk back to you. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ think this is-”

The new angle has his sharp jaw grinding up into you, jostling your body up and down all over his face. He’s whining - heaving - at this point with every sultry swirl of your soft tongue around his twitchy head. Coating down every inch of your silky soft mouth with a hot sheen of precum, he tastes so good on your tastebuds - slightly salty, with a tinge of something so sweetly Gojo. 

Powers acting before him, he doesn’t even realize it before he cheats - just a little. Eyes burning with power when Gojo uses his six eyes to plunge scarily accurately into the plushy bullseye of your g-spot. Greedy fingers hitting it again and again and-

“Satoru!” your scolding tone has his globular tip twitch ferally into the back of your throat. “That’s not- I can feel your jujutsu, y’know. S-so-” 

“What? Good? Heavenly?” Gojo rattles off. You’re fucking your drooling pussy back into him - you can’t stop the mindless, shallow little grinds in an attempt to meet his mean pace. “Never said anythin’ about a jujutsu ban, pretty- you’re sounding like a sore loser to me.” As if on cue, your cunt is gushing out in more silken sweet juices all down the lower half of his face, squelching so obscenely. His droopy eyes admire your glistening cunt, riding his face to his insanity. “Well- not this cunt, of course, in fact- I think she’s gonna cum.”

He didn’t have to tell you - you already knew, with the trembling in your thighs, and the white-hot pleasure stemming from his incessant making out. Without answering, you only swallow up a few more solid, rock-hard inches of his painfully hard cock, lips stretched obscenely. 

“Y-yeah- fuck, now I definitely know you’re close, pretty girl-” he’s lolling out his tongue to let you drag your pussy across harshly. “Don’t be stubborn- cum f’me,” Rough patches of his tastebuds massaging you just right, fingers still pumping recklessly. “Cum f’me- please. Wan’ it on my tongue- want you- want you to use me- please.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re finally cumming, fucking your high over and over Gojo Satoru’s pretty face. He’s wrapping a free hand around the small of your back, just crashing you back into his drunk mouth over and over and–

“F-fuck, Toru–” you whine, toes curling with each crashing wave of pleasure. It was so violent - so dragged-out, like no orgasm you’ve had before. And you didn’t know whether it was because of the technique or the lazy drag of Gojo’s mouth all over every beading inch of your pussy. Your fist tightens around the thick, heated base of his cock, “Need- need you to-”

“No. Fuck-”

In the fleeting millisecond it takes you to blink, your front is being pushed back onto the now-damp sheets again, a grinning Gojo hovering over you. He looked so ruined - smile gleaming with your trickling, dripping precum, eyes crazed. Suddenly, you almost understand why every breathing thing fears him - almost. His eyes were blazing, flushed angrily. “I’m burning- think m’gonna die if I don’t fuck this cunt right now. Fuck-”

“Havin’ to use your powers for everything?” you’re quirking a brow over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the only reason you brag about being so hah- good in bed is because of that?”

He’s narrowing his glowing eyes, tiny sparks of lightning flying furiously, “Ohhh s’that a challenge, sweetheart?” Gojo’s sharp canines tug on your bottom lip, and you moan into the messy clash of a kiss - all spit and teeth and the taste of you two. “Tell me.”

“So what if it is?” you’re managing to push back against his slender waist. “Without those stupid powers, m’the better…”

Whatever insult was on the tip of our tongue dies down at the glint of the foil in his hand - the condom from before. That tiny square looking so pitiful held between two fingers, “The receptionist gave me an XL, funny, right?” Gojo murmurs, so dark. “Such a shame it won’t fit.”

One daring glance downwards proves him right - because Gojo was sitting so heftily sandwiched between your swollen folds. Painfully beading needy pearls of translucent precum all over your front - fuck, your cockdrunk self from before didn’t recall him being so large. Big enough that you were sure any rubber would be on the verge of shattering into little pieces.

So then go in raw- you think. But before the words can tumble out of your mind, he’s giving a slow, slippery slide on your cunt, “S’alright- with these ah- ‘stupid powers’ m’still gonna get a taste of this pretty cunt.”

And then you can’t breathe - fuck, you can’t even think straight.

You feel like you’re being split-apart, because Gojo’s just barely pushing in the fat, round girth of his head. Managing to pop in his long shaft past that sensitive slit, before his body starts moving in hurried, impatient little grinds. Frantically trying to squeeze himself in deeper- “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, even with limitless you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Limitless - fuck, that’s what it was. You could feel the slight pinch of the pressure around your body, the way he was reaching in so deep inside your velvety cunt despite not even being halfway inside yet. 

“Satoru-” 

“No-” his flickering eyes bore deep into yours. “Not that- call out f’me properly now, I know that smart mouth of yours can do it.”

Your words are barely a whisper, “Toru–”

The remaining lamp at your left goes out - cracking into tiny shards. And that’s all it takes for him to push and push in, distantly, Gojo knows he should slow down, maybe give you a second to relax - to think. But he could feel his sanity dancing away with every fucking inch fed into your sopping wet pussy, your elastic walls contorting to massage every ridge and vein of his so heavenly. Fuck- he’d fight a thousand more of those special grades just for another taste of this feeling. 

“Oh-” Gojo’s jaw hangs slack when he finally bullies past that feeble resistance of yours. The very top curve of his head nudging deeply in a glissading glide down your spongy cervix, heavy balls kissing against your ass. 

He lets himself be pulled, used like some filthy toy when your hot tongue cranes to lap up the trail of drool down the corner of his drunken mouth. 

“Wanna feel you-” you’re gasping through each thorough, steady ram into your snug channel. “Wanna feel all of you.”

Another memorable slap! resounds through the heady air, sending sparks exploding behind your lids. “Heh- s’this your way of hah- having me stop using my powers?” he chuckles. “I’m onto your dirty, dirty tricks, y’know.”

Truly, he wasn’t. Gojo didn’t think he had enough of his brain unfried to even contemplate that right about now. But it was just so much fun to watch you mewl in protest, your cunt dripping even further down his twitchy balls with each taunt. 

“Please- fuck m’burning up-” you spit. “Scared s’gonna have you c-cumming early?”

As a punishment - or maybe a little reminder about who really was the strongest, Gojo infuses his next sharp smack on your clit with an ounce of his jujutsu. The curve of his thumb gliding over in tiny circles to soothe over the buzz, “Talk to me when you can say “cumming” without hngh- stutterin’-”

“Talk to me when you-” Growling into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do right now to bow his hulking body even deeper into yours, kneeing apart your stutteringly closing thighs. There’s a sloppy, milky ring forming where your folds kept smacking repeatedly against the sharp lines of his pelvis, “-can fuck me without your limitless going haywire.”

Fuck- fuck, how he wanted to prove you wrong. To have you crying out for mercy.

But Gojo’s throat drags out in what almost sounds like a cry when his limitless flickers on and off - just for a second. The mere touch of your slippery soft walls around his hot cock making him just slam down an arm on the headrest. It breaks - shattering into tiny wooden pieces, though, neither of you notice right now. 

He’s maneuvering the two of you so easily to push you onto your back. Stuffing your gaping entrance back full again, this time throwing your limp legs onto his broad shoulders to pummel you in such a mean mating press. Just the sight of your fucked-out, pretty face has his ragged breath hitching, “S-sweetheart…” 

Whatever answer you give is tangled up in Gojo’s drunken tongue, lapping at your words. His cock feels so heavy, so hot shoving between your legs. And the stretch - fuck, the stretch was something you’d always remember. Stretching out that tight hole into the very girth of his shaft - all the way down from his leaky, flinching head to the thick circumference of his hilt. “I don’t think I can- fuck, can I feel- please, m’dying to know what this cunt feels like-”

Your nails rake down the pale display of his back, those red, red jagged lines making him rut even deeper into you. “Do it then-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh.

Fuck. 

It’s like something shatters - maybe limitless, maybe his restraint. Because Gojo’s eyes just fall shut in pure ecstasy, aching cock growing even larger inside you - as if that was even possible. Expanding tautly at your walls, he’s forming you so sinfully around his shape. 

“Oh-oh– fuck you feel- how the fuck do you feel so good?” His free hand dips down to roll a depraved thumb over the nub of your neglected clit, catching on your bulgingly-stretched folds. “Holy shit- think m’gonna pass out- think m’gonna die.”

“Hah-” your back arches up sluttily into his around the fifth consecutive time his rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, fingers buzzing with electricity at your clit. “You’re s-so weak-”

But it didn’t matter, did it? Because all you could do was hiss out a few wet gurgles into Gojo’s mouth, blinking in the sinful sight of him with his eyes so hooded, cheeks burning with a scorching blush, mouth dangling so addictively open while he sucked your tongue. Like he didn’t even realize what he was doing - how each pressurized thrust into your gummy pussy had the lights overhead flickering, sparks of blue lightning bolting from the corners of his mouth at the same sloppy staccato as his hips. How it made you cum. 

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body. Convulsing up over and over into his weighty body, “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” 

Crack! 

And then it’s dark.

Hell, Gojo barely even realized when he does, too, shooting out creamy white ribbon after ribbon of seed with a soft, shuddering gasp of your name. And it’s the only thing on his usually-sharp tongue - voice cracking pathetically, when he whines it like a little mantra over and over and-

“Oh-” his five, long fingers splay out across your lower stomach - right where he could feel his own cock twitching wildly at the very bottom of your gooey pussy. Pressing down, hard. “Oh shit- just look at how you’re painted white from the inside-”

The lights were gone out - in all the wards of Tokyo, actually - and yet in the light of the slight flickers of electricity surrounding you two, you could spy the slow, syrupy glob of his cum down your thighs. Coating his hilt in a milky gloss, it sticks to the two of you like a sloppy second skin. “And you expect me to- hah- not go insane.”

You manage out a wet chuckle, too tired to notice how the bed was missing a headboard now. How all the furniture in the hotel room was trashed - as if it’d been slammed down from several feet above. “Hah- b-blame it on the sex pollen.”

The technique has him cumming more than usual, every new wave sloshing at your insides is followed by another - and another until Gojo’s cock felt so raw. Twitching sensitively in a way that brought big fat tears pricking at his eyes, and yet, he still fucks you so harshly into the mattress. Sucking out every remaining dredge of seed in those fat, cum-filled balls thwacking! at your skin. Sloppy. Depraved. Oh, he looked so ruined - like a man that crawled back from death, only to drag you down with him. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gojo drags his swollen lips down your earlobe. Voice shot, “I don’t think the sex pollen is done yet.”

---

“Trashed all across the floor, trashed furniture - especially in room 143 - Hokkaido still doesn’t even have power.” Yaga’s bellowing voice has you sinking ashamedly further and further into his office seat. 

Gojo, however, only beams, throwing an arm around the edge of your chair, “Damn- we should really try to send out the power in all of Asia next time, huh, my pretty girl?”

“Out!”

Across the hallway, three first-years eagerly (well, two of them and a reluctant Megumi) peer into the tense meeting. Wondering what exactly happened in your last mission that caused a record-level amount of property damage and the power to still flicker on and off throughout the day.

Yuji is the first one to speak up, “Well, no one’s dead but- why does the air seem so-” he gestures towards the almost non-existent space between you and Gojo - not anything out of the usual, sure, but the one thing different was the lack of threats. “-weird.” he finishes. 

“Tell me about it. That Gojo almost seems…” Nobara shudders in disgust. “...happy.”

And of course, at that very moment, the man of the hour himself turns to look straight at the first-years doing a poor job of hiding themselves behind the door. Sighing overly-loudly, “If you say so, Yaga~” Intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you up with him, “We had a date anyway.”

“A date?”

“A date?!”

“I win.” All eyes - including yours and Gojo’s turn towards the usually-quiet Megumi, his lips turned into the beginnings of a smile. Almost. “You both owe me ten thousand yen.”

A/N. Hope you babygirls have a good weekkkk!!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tacticalprincess]

MDNI — cw: f!reader, car sex, age gap

farmhand!könig who can’t get enough of farmer’s daughter!reader….

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌾

he’s always pestering you, making it impossible for you to complete your chores on time most days. he’s addicted to the playful gleam in your eyes when you look up at him, the way your soft body feels in his rugged hands. the excitement that thrums under his skin as the two of you dance around your overprotective dad, sharing a secret that tethers you together long after you leave his shed at night, lingers thick in the air at the dinner table and in passing. the more of you you give to him, the worse his craving for you gets, and the less he seems to care about getting caught.

he sneaks a hand over your mouth and lifts you into his old, beat up truck while you’re taking your dry sheets off the clothesline, the sun hot and heavy overhead. you squeal against his palm, writhing in his hold before he sets you on his broad lap, letting you turn to face him.

“don’t do that! you scared me.”

he laughs it off, already snaking his large, calloused hands under your shirt to thumb at your hip pudge. cant waste any time when he has you alone. insincere apologizes mumbled into the soft, sweat slick skin of your neck, huffing in your sweet scent. “cant help myself with you teasing me like this. bending over in these tiny shorts, showing all the animals your ass.”

you giggle, back arching into the older man’s greedy, firm touch, angling your head away to give him more access to your neck. “the cows weren’t exactly my target audience.”

“talking about me, liebchen.” he clarifies. the strong smell of musk and mud invades your senses, the soft fabric of his white tee chafing against your hard, braless nipples through your flimsy shirt. “dirty little girl, aren’t you? going to get me in trouble one day, i know it. what would your father do if he knew his daughter was trying to seduce his best farmhand?”

he renders your ability to speak null and void when he slots his hands into your shorts and squeezes you for all you have to offer, spreading your cheeks and making you grind your hips down on his hard bulge, the friction from your jeans borderline painful against your clit. groans throatily at how wet you are already, his fingers slipping into your hole to gather your slick before he retracts it entirely, showing you how it sticks to his thick digits. “hm? looks like this cute little cunt missed me too.” a cocky grin plagues his sharp features, smearing your juices over your pouty lips dirtily, just to see your face scrunch up in disgust. he grabs your chin, pulling you forward to lick it off.

it’s all happening too fast, exhilaration clinging to your bones, heat gathering at your core. you look around the field warily, mind racing with doubt but your body betrays you, bucking into his mouth when you feel him litter sloppy, wet kisses along your chest, pulling down the strap of your shirt to let your cute boobs spring free. if it wasn’t hot already, you’re burning up now. “könig, not out in the open like this. what if daddy sees?”

“i’ll be quick, maus. just want to play with you.” he promises, though you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t be over that soon. “can you feel how hard you make me? you’re all i can think about, it’s impairing my ability to work. cant have that, can we?”

decidedly, you don’t want to be the cause of a sudden switch in the quality of könig’s farm work, or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you let him push your shorts to the side, sitting yourself down on his thick, hard manhood. he swallows every heavenly noise that tip from your soft lips onto his tongue, clashing teeth and jaw from desperation. lets you grit your kitten nails into his scalp for purchase, hot bodies pressed flush together in the cramped space while he lifts and drops you down until your thighs start to tremble and lock around him. the heels of your boots dent into your plush thighs, his are planted to the floor as he pile drives his hips into you, thrusts deliberate and meticulous in a way that awakens sweet parts you didn’t know you had.

it’s a shame, he thinks, having to hide away in a dirty truck with such a pretty thing like you. too soft and sweet for a man like him, but his addiction to you makes you impossible to resist. it’s unclear who’s corrupting who in this situation.

if you were back home with him in austria, he would’ve proposed to you already, declaring you as his for everyone to see. as it is, he bounces you on his cock until you’re seeing stars, the ambience of the farm surrounding you, with the slowly setting sun as your witness.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic. 

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the  warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity. 

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes. 

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly. 

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people. 

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper. 

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury. 

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound? 

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure. 

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any. 

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously. 

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all. 

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently. 

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat. 

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting. 

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them. 

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps. 

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum. 

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone. 

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

twisted wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

[starkeyisthelastname]

i just know trailer park rafe looooves making out for hours and eating you out until you can’t remember your name anymore. Do you think he would have a sp*tting kink?

oh yes absolutely all of it. 😩 god this man is nasty

He didn’t know how you did it, but he sure wasn’t complaining. Those delicate little mittens working all day to clean up his filthy trailer that he knew was just going to become a wreck for you to have to pick up again. Or that you had made him a full plate of food with a beer that sat on the banged up coffee table just waiting for him. You still looked so goddamn pretty too, his precious doll that waited on him hand and foot because you wanted to make him happy and show him you could be the perfect little trailer wife he needed.

His plate was cleared, a few beer cans now littered across the table that his long legs rested on. The small living room was dark except for a dim bulb and the static of the old tv playing some shitty old movie. He’d light a cigarette, taking a long drag as he watched you cleaning up the kitchen. He could see right through that little white sundress, still looking like a virgin despite proudly stripping you away from that title.

He was a pleased man that night and he felt like worshipping your sugary self after all you had done. His deep voice would echo off the thin walls, pulling you out of your thoughts as you scrubbed the counter. “C’’mere babydoll, why don’t you give those lil hands a rest?” He said, patting his thigh as an order to come sit in his lap.

He leaned back against the tattered couch, stained wife beater on and with a pair of torn jeans hanging low on his hips. His cigarette hung between his lips, rough hands grabbing your hips to pull you down between his thighs. “You been workin’ hard all day, haven’t ya sweet cheeks?” He would rasp near your ear, smelly nicotine blowing over your frame. You nodded, leaning into his touch his dirty hands ran up and down your body.

It started off with a few pecks, his scruff tickling your baby smooth face as lips teased yours while he still finished his cigarette in between. You’d feel giddy inside, Rafe being the first man your sheltered self had ever kissed. The more whiny you became though, the more possessive he got. Squeezing your ass cheek in his massive palm as he had adjusted you in his lap.

You’d be a couple hours in, tits spilled out of your dress and him shirtless. Your poor little self didn’t know what to do, just letting his tongue shove its way into your mouth over and over until your full lips were swollen. “Mmm.. that’s my pretty baby.” His voice raspy from the long make out session, eyes peering over you like prey. He was longing for a taste of something else, the thought of his tongue on your cunt now invading his mind.

“You wanna know what I really wanna do now?” He asked, thumb slipping between your lips as your desperate little self couldn’t help but rub your bare sex along the crotch of his jeans. You shrugged your shoulders gently, eyes lazy while you sucked on his digit. “I wanna lick your pretty cunt until you can’t take it anymore baby.” He told you, smirk on his face but eyes dark. “Say it. Tell me you want me to lick your cunt.” His words firmer this time.

You didn’t curse, always had been raised to never use foul language despite living in a trailer park. You just couldn’t help but to obey your favorite person, your small voice speaking the unknown words. “I… I want you to l-lick my c-cunt.” You said, voice quiet as you felt a little ashamed. It was enough for Rafe though, nearly growling at the dirty language he teaching you to speak. He’d really test how obedient you were, spitting in your mouth like a whore and closing your jaw shut. “You are so far gone, ain’t ya babydoll? Lettin’ me dirty up your mouth and just fuckin’ takin’ it.”

He’d pick you up with ease, his tall body easily navigating you through the cramped trailer and down the tiny hall to his room. He’d throw you old scratchy mattress, stance still looking huge as he kneeled down. He’d push your dress up, head eagerly finding its way between your plush thighs as he began to eat the sweetest cunt he’d ever been in. You tasted like sugar, leaking all over his tongue and dirty stache as he slurped your folds up messily. He’d watch you try and keep your eyes on him, your soft hand gripping one of the flat pillows he had for support only for your body to fall back with pleasure. You were experiencing a grown man’s mouth on your cunt for the first time and Rafe certainly didn’t play when it came to eating pussy.

“I know babydoll.. feels good don’t it? Keep serving me like a good lil’ trailer park whore and I’ll eat your sweet cunt out as much as you want.” He drawled out between licks, nose buried against your clit to leave you shuddering.

[only-luce-the-goose]

Taller

A/N: lowkey in love with Mr Bearman rn

Ollie Bearman x reader

Synopsis: non-sexual size kink with Ollie Bearman

Warnings: size kink, fluff

Ollie Bearman stands at just over 6ft, and while he’s not the tallest person in the world, he is definitely one of the tallest you’ve met. When you first met him, you were doing work experience as a journalist for Sky Sports. You had been tasked with interviewing some of the reserve drivers, Ollie being your top priority.

Obviously, you knew who he was before you met him, what you didn’t know is that he knew who you were too. He noticed you on his last visit to the paddock, bright-eyed as you followed the Sky Sport presenters around. After a lot of practicing, they let you do your own one-on-one interviews, starting you off with reserve drivers so it wasn't overly important in case you bombed.

You waited in the media pen, Ollie was eventually brought over by his media manager. You got through the interview without embarrassing yourself too much, it wasn’t until that afternoon that you felt your shoulder being tapped. You turned around to find yourself face to (muscly) chest with Ollie. You looked up at him, craning your neck in the process. "Y/n, right?" he asked. "I-uhm-yeah, that's me."

You think about that day all the time, the day you met your current boyfriend. You had known each other over 3 years now, dating for just over a year and a half. After knowing him for 3 years, what you could never get over was his size. He’s tall and broad and the size of him always makes you giggly and nervous.

When you can’t reach something on the top shelf, he puts his hand on your waist and kisses your cheek, reaching over you and pulling the object down. You look up at him to thank you and he’s just so… there. Towering over you, making you feel small and you kinda love it.

When you’re lying on the couch and he comes over for cuddles. He flops himself on top of you, his head resting the crevice of your neck, his weight crushing you in the best way. When he usually lies on the couch, his feet just hit the end but when he lies on you, his feet stick out the end of the couch. You always ask if he wants you to move up but he always shakes his head and nuzzles into your neck. You’re astounded at how he discards his comfort to be with you.

You guys went to a concert a couple months ago and you were stuck behind a group of stupidly tall people. You kept trying to look over shoulders, wiggling around in the cramped space. Ollie leaned and asked “you ok baby?” You look up at him “I can’t see anything” you grumble. He giggled, “do you wanna get up on my shoulders, love?” You look at him shocked. “How would I even get up there?” He leaned in and whispered “I’ll show you”. He knelt down on the ground, taking your hand and pulling you over to sit on his shoulders. He held both your hands to keep you steady when he stood up, giving you the perfect view of the concert.

The way he would stand behind you in a mirror, lovingly looming over you while his shoulders reached wider than yours. His arms winding around yours waist, pulling you into his muscly chest. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, like they do every time Ollie shows off how big he is, and you love it.

[slasherstories123]

Hello!! Can I please get some period comfort fluff with Jason, Thomas, RZ micheal and Art (whoever else you'd like to add) thank you xoxo

Slashers helping their S/O on their period

Pairing: Jason Voorhees, RZ! Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, and Art the Clown x GN! Reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @pink-apollo @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Jason Voorhees

Jason will do anything you ask just to help out, he hates seeing you in pain. Especially from cramps and will grab the biggest pain killer bottle he can find just to give to you.

He doesn’t understand the concept so it’s best to sit him down and talk about it just before the time comes just so he could help out.

Sadly. He isn’t a walking heating pad, if he were to place his hand on your stomach to try and soothe your cramps you’ll feel a cold sensation, ice cold to be exact.

He’ll put you in you a warm bath if he sees that your cramps are getting worse

He’s trying his best just to make sure you’re okay and will give you space if you need it.

He’ll cuddle you as long as you want if you want to given his cold body, if you don’t mind it, he’s never letting you go unless you say so just to be there as company and support.

RZ!Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t know much about periods, but he did have an older sister, even then, that wasn’t enough for him, all he knew was that it was a monthly thing women go through.

He knew you were going through it when he saw you curled up in a ball in bed from the excruciating cramps, he doesn’t know what to do until you tell him want your needs were.

He’s trying…for you at least, the best he can do is provide you medicine. All the while staring at your pained figure. If you want him to stay he will.

Michaels hands are warm, he always have something in his hands and will squeeze relentlessly. He’ll even let you place his hand on your stomach as your own heating pad just to help you (after your slight begging of course).

He’ll steal candy from the critters houses to give to you too, you’ll sometimes find them by your night stand or right by your pillow whenever you wake up from a nap.

Thomas Hewitt

He gets help from Luda Mae mostly. He’s clueless and ran straight to her when he saw you curled up in bed.

She’ll tell him everything you might need just so he can be a better help for you.

Thomas will find a way to cool you down since being hot AND on your period isn’t a good mix. He’ll do the smallest things, even if it’s a massage he’ll do it.

Even if you protest he’ll make you rest and will do any small tasks that were assigned for you.

In the night he’ll meekness you to take medicine before bed just so you won’t be in pain throughout the nights

Thomas skin is hot from the Texas heat. His hand makes the perfect heating pad for you too. Whatever cuddling position you’re in his hand will be on your stomach through the night.

Art the Clown

Art is definitely trying his best, and since his actions are different, he’ll go through extreme measures just to get the products you need for your period.

He’ll still pull rather weird tricks just to get a laugh out of you or to distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Most tricks involve weird tactics or disturbing ones, which are in his nature that you’ve gotten used to and you yourself even got to laugh at a few of them

Art is an affectionate guy who will squeeze you tight while cuddling if you ask him to. If it’s a small hug he’ll take it to the next level just to squeeze you in his arms like a stress toy.

Art will also govern you small twinkles he stole or found just to give to you to cheer you up if you’re having your period mood swings. Sometimes he’ll play along if you’re upset and cross his arms with a fake angry expression just to try and mock you.

It’s all harmless in the end.

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sweet talkin’

main hive 🐝 | next part here: honey, are you comin’?

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which “uncle benny” picks up johnny’s girls from school and finds some honey along the way ;)

warnings: not much of anything besides talks of danger & some side eyes from on-lookers. an absolute fluff cake of a piece really. enjoy! x

author’s note: ngl there is some inaccuracies. i fully made up locations & such. never been to chicago or illinois even, but maybe someday :)

word count: 2.8k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You remember it like it was yesterday, the very first time you met Benny Cross. Ironically, it was one of those sticky sweet days in June, just before the start of summer ‘65. The Chicago heat was hard to beat in the cramped little classroom you worked in on Phipps Avenue. Your third graders were all flushed faces with curly cues frizzing about, and their red little cheeks burned in exhaustion. It was no surprise that you lost their ears to the tsk tsk tsk of sprinklers swirling about on the school grounds. Even though the principal was against it, you were rather relieved to see your students running about the wet grass come dismissal.

It was a lovely reprieve, truly to be out of the shoe box you worked in at the end of the day. Sure, the heat hadn’t let up. It was awfully sweltering passing clammy hand to clammy hand to their designated pick up person. But you loved being a teacher. Moreseo you loved those sweet turned up smiles that graced those baby faces of your students as they chatted about their after school plans. Heading down to the local pool or picking up a firecracker pop at the corner store was such a sweet treat. It made you miss being that young again, finding hidden treasures through the little bits of life.

You moved like clockwork during dismissal, attentive as you made small talk with parents and hugged your students goodbye. The pick of the cycle was usually smooth on your part. You knew who tended to be retrieved right away and who was left hanging, so it took you by a hint of surprise when you found yourself still hand in hand with Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s little girls.

You knew the Davis’s well — as well as anyone could holding residence in the quaint village of McCook, Illinois. Mr. Davis and his wife Betty were perishoners at the local church you frequented with your Ma and Pa. St. Caron’s on the corner of Rose and Dawn. You’d see them all together in their Sunday best, the kids in puff pastry kind-of dresses packed together in a pew with their Ma, while their Pa was mulling about in his pressed suit and tie. There was no trace of the Vandals you’d come to know, the Johnny that would be amplified under that some-what imposterous clean cut demeanor. You’d see him solemn as ever ushering pew to pew with the collections basket for the poor and at communion during the mass.

Yet, if you had to name one thing that complimented Johnny to Mr. Davis, it had to be his consistency with being on time. Never once was he ever late to church. 12pm sharp he’d be looking at his watch, waitin’ for the priest and deacon to do their thang. The same applied for his children and their respected school schedule.

It took you a moment to remember the note from the office that was sent up in the afternoon. In your defense, mastering concentration in this heat proved almost impossible. Until it wasn’t. You could see the lovely writing of the secretary with that neat cursive of hers in the back of your mind, reminding you that the Davis girls would be picked up by their Uncle Benny come dismissal.

That would explain it, you thought. But would it really? Fathoming a member of Mr. Davis’s family not being as meticulous as him? You momentarily wondered how the man would react to such a thing as being late. You were sure it wasn’t in his vocabulary by any means.

Your fingers, engulfing the petite ones of the Davis girls, squeezed their hands reassuringly. “M’sure your Uncle Benny will be here any moment.” Neither of them said anything as you glanced between the two flanked at your sides, little eyelashes blinking up at you without a care in the world. And here you thought they would be just as anal-retentive as their father.

They weren’t.

Since the school yard was becoming less compact with people, and the principal put an end to the fun with the sprinklers, you figured some chit-chat wouldn't hurt to keep them occupied. “You girls have any fun afternoon plans?”

The Davis girl on the right, taller, darker hair, lookin’ far too much like her father — a carbon copy if you will — spoke up then. “Yes! Uncle Benny is takin’ us to a picnic. Gonna see Daddy race his bike, Miss. Honey.”

A bike race, huh? You couldn’t remember seeing anything in the McCook weekly papers ‘bout an upcoming cycling event. But, hey maybe you happened to miss it on your skim of the thing, when your Pa just so happened to put it down for a second durin’ dinner.

“Well, ain’t that sweet!” You chirped, smiling brightly at the girls with genuine excitement in your eyes. “Sure it’ll be tons of fun.”

“S’not when Daddy gets all muddy.” The smaller girl, the one that looked more like her mother. Lighter hair and lighter eyes said. Her tiny face contorted into a grimace.

Muddy? Weren’t cycling races on the roads?

Surely the town would block off the streets like they did for those celebratory parades. The little one was probably exaggerating.

“Aw,” you hummed, a frown dousing your features. “M’sure your Pa is just real dedicated, y’know?” You tried to bring out the bright side for your student. “S’like when you buy a fresh book and worry about those pages dentin’. Y’won’t know if you like it if you don’t read it, right?” The girls nodded. “Dentin’ the pages just goes to show all that love you had for that book while readin’ it.”

“I guess…” The Davis girl shrugged, tiny fingers wrapping about the strap of her pretty pink backpack. Seemingly, she wasn’t as impressed as her sister to the right.

You were gonna change the subject. Gonna start chatting ‘bout something else, when a twist of tiers against the pavement sent a squeak across the air. Your mother-hen instincts kicked in instantly, protective hands pulling the girls behind you without a second thought. All heads turned simultaneously to the intrusion on the road, expecting the worst. Expecting a crash of sorts. But no, there was no crash, just a slick car pulling abruptly up against the sidewalk and jerking to a startling stop. One that could only be equated to the driver going far above the speed limit in a school zone.

It went quiet. Far too quiet as the lot of remaining faculty, students, and parents alike kept their eyes peeled back sharply at the reckless driver. Funnily enough the attentive stares of onlookers could have very well been just as bad as those witnessing an actual crash.

You weren’t any better than the rest, collecting snap shot after snap shot like a roll of consecutive film. You could still hear the engine cutting out, the door swinging open and closing with a solid flick of his wrist. A wrist that would do far worse to you in the bedroom. Far worse in the eyes of your religious upbringing, but would feel too holy to you to be considered a sin.

You only caught a glance of him for a second until his back was facing towards you, thick white letters staking his claim with a skull and crossbones for the Chicago Vandals on his cut down vest.

You’d heard a thing or two about those motorcycle men. Your father ranting and raving about the disturbances near route 95 and police chases. But never, had you ever seen one of them in the flesh up close and personal. A shrill of unprecedented delight shot up your spine at the colorful sight, no longer reserved to those blurry black and white paper cuttings.

Stopping in his tracks, you figured his car must have broken down or somethin’ – but no. He was putting out his cigarette with his worn down boot before making his way over to you, and oh he had his eye on you alright.

A relative unease wahed across the school yard, harder than the obvious heat wave as he sauntered across without a care in the world. As if dozens of heads weren’t makin’ disgusted faces and whispering about. Yet a clear intimidation set over them, people stepping out of the way without a word as if he was a Bible figure. Like Moses parting the red sea.

“Uncle Benny!” One of them chirped. Who you didn’t know, couldn’t know with the sudden flush creeping against your cheeks. Your heart dropped to your stomach once you realized who it was and that the man himself with dirty blonde scruff, calloused fingers, and a black inked layer over a honey toned canvas was makin’ a beeline to you. A beeline to you and the girls.

It was the taller Davis girl that must have called out his name, cause suddenly she was pulling you and her sister forward to meet Benny half way. You almost tripped down the stairs within the broken bubble of her excitement. Barely having a moment’s notice to collect yourself, you found your pristine baby pink ballet flats toe to toe with some scruffed up biker boots that had seen better days. You managed a breath before you looked up and boy were you glad you did.

The wind was practically knocked clean out of you when you were caught face to face with the Benny Cross. It wasn’t because you were scared of him — no. You were more taken aback with how pretty he was. How his deeply set ocean eyes managed to speak volumes without saying a word.

And suddenly, on the front steps of Phipps Avenue School you felt seen. More seen than you had ever felt in your life. He wasn’t the only one sticking out like the sorest of thumbs. So were you with your baby pink tank to match your shoes with your signature embroidered denim overall dress. Hair up and out of your face, loose honey curls frizzing about. Your kitsch tastes and unpolished attire were rather baffling for the picturesque depiction gracing the magazines your Ma read at the salon.

Some would say you were lost somewhere in Neverland. Lots of your fellow teachers would crack jokes here and there ‘bout it too. Sure, on a bad day a jab or two could get to you — but hey you liked what you liked and you weren’t gonna change that. Not for anybody. Not even for your Ma or Pa who grimaced at your bedazzled pins wedged into your messy curls during Sunday mass.

So Benny, well who were you to judge him?

“Hi, you must be Uncle Benny,” you greeted the brood of a man in front of you, flexing a sweet-like-honey smile that was just oh-so-you. You let go of the Johnny look-a-likes hand then, allowing her to wrap her small self around Benny’s leg in pure delight to see him as you outstretched your hand in a shake. To your dismay, he didn’t take it. Instead, his free hand that wasn’t mushing up Johnny’s girls dark locks as he patted her head fished for his pack of Marlboro reds in his vest pocket. That didn’t stop you from introducing yourself though. “I’m Miss. Honey.”

He gave you once over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before the edge of his lip tweaked up in a sly smile. “Honey, huh?” He mused, that deep set voice of his, thick and smokey sweetin’ up something deep inside you.

Dropping your hand back down against your dress, the material felt rather rough on your clammy skin. “Yuh-huh.” You nodded, that tight smile of yours making your eyes twitch just a bit.

A fresh cigarette materialized between his teeth then, unlit. A strange courtesy you found rather charming on the midst of educational grounds. “Hm,” he hummed, the narrow cylinder vibrating against his lips as his eyes devoured you a second time. Yet, you figured he was more unimpressed. Most were anyways.

“Benny! Benny! Can we go see Daddy now?” The girl wrapped around his leg yanked his belt loop with a small finger. The little one was still at your side, hand in hand with you. It was kind of amusin’ how different the two were. It was simple figuring out who was the bigger Daddy’s girl of the two.

“In a ‘inute, sweet-art,” he mumbled, that cigarette of his disrupting any fully coherent sentence from spillin’ out. “C’mere ‘ittle one,” he motioned to the shorter girl who was rather uninterested in leaving. In the midst of your conversation, she managed to keep her hand raised, keeping herself conjoined to you as she sat down on the bottom step in complete and utter protest.

“Don’t wanna.” She pouted down at her bunny tied saddle shoes that matched her pretty little pick-tails.

In a sense, you couldn’t blame her. Now it was all adding up. What was really going on. This wasn’t just some run of the mill village cycling marathon. This was a Vandals bike race.

Any other teacher would have probably made a stink, called the parents in for a sit down with the principal over infiltrating their kids in a biker environment infused with criminal records. But, you weren’t like that — no. Especially when you’d see a child’s eyes light up with so much delight. It was clear that Mr. Davis’s look-a-like was really proud of her father. Who could blame her? Respected throughout the community, a family man who put his all into a trucking' job.

A picnic with some bike racin’ wouldn’t be so bad, right?

Not with Mr. Davis involved.

So, you gave the benefit of the doubt. Sure, it could have been for all those reasons that were swarming about your head, but in actuality your heart was working double time over your mind. The image of the Davis girl clinging to Benny’s leg had teddy bear written all over it, giving you all the sweet talkin’ you’d need. Ironically enough, in due time that soft side of him would turn into plushy lovin’ reserved just for you.

“Lemme,” you mouthed to Benny before getting down to the little one’s level. Flattening out your skirt you took a seat next to her and rested both hands over her own in her lap. “Remember when we were talkin’ about a good book? Dentin’ the pages?” The girl nodded, but didn’t meet your eye. Instead, Benny doing the opposite, his eyes practically grilled onto your peripheral vision. “Well, sometimes if we are too protective of it. Too keen on keeping it all in tack, we’ll never learn not to and we’ll just be more and more disappointed when we come across a little crack we never created in the first place. We may not like it, but it’s there, and there is so much love there.” You squeeze the little girl’s hand. “Just like your old man racin’. You may not like it, but he does, and that’s quite alright. You know why?”

“Why?” She looked up at you then, little doe eyes attentive as ever, clinging onto your every word. It was times like this that reminded you why you were a teacher.

“‘Cause you love him, no matter what” You replied, tilting your head ever-so subtly to observe her reaction.

And oh did Benny love you. He didn’t know it then. Couldn’t fully compartmentalize it until later. Yet, unbeknownst to you, it was one of the first of what would become many of Benny's thoughts on how damn good of a teacher you were, how fine of a wife you’d make, and how sweet of a mother you’d be.

Thankfully, your words must have resonated with the little girl. It only took a moment for those delightful dimples of hers to grace those little features before her lips turned up in a sweet smile. “We gotta go Uncle Benny!” The girl declared suddenly, standing up straight with a whole new attitude. You were glad to supply the optimism. That’s what you were all about. That was the lesson you hoped to instill to your students the most.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, feeling like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders soundly. Not uncomfortable. Not contributing to the intolerable heat wave. You’d only been in your second year of teaching, but hey — small victories like this made it worth it. Made you proud of yourself, even if you couldn’t find such gratitude from others.

Little did you know, Benny — he was so fuckin’ proud. Proud to see you spreading such honey-coated wisdom to a youngin’. And there on the steep steps of Phipps Avenue school as the little one wrapped her arms around you and thanked you profusely before grabbing Benny’s hand and heading to Johnny’s car, he found his mission.

You were gonna be his wife.

He was sure of it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

this was so much fun to write! i hope you liked it :) i’m thinking of also including some honey interviews curtesy of danny ! stay tuned for “from the hive” 🎙️🐝

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝🍯:

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

@m00npjm

@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Denial

Co-written with the gorgeously talented @gravid-transluna Thanks so much for picking up this RP starter, so happy we’re collaborating and writing fics. I’m having a blast! 💜 [fpreg, 7.7k words, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alex had a million and one things to do in the office before she went on maternity leave. The day was disappearing fast and she’d barely sat down; with back to back meetings, numerous phone calls, it was non-stop. It seemed her body wasn’t too keen on being pushed so hard this late in her pregnancy, if the constant braxton hicks were anything to go by, but she powered through assuring herself that she’d be resting soon. Just get through today.

The Exec waddles into the lift, heading to a meeting room a few floors below. The doors were just about to close before a young employee jumped in lightly after her. They stood in relative silence facing the exit, until the sudden screech of metal clanged all around them. The floor shook, jolting suddenly, and the lift was brought to an abrupt halt.

Alex’s curled hair swung around her face as she glanced at the tiny screen which usually displayed the floor level - it was now flashing a warning error image. “Eugh, is the lift broken?” Alex gruffed, annoyed.

“Looks like it.” The anxious looking subordinate replied, clearly worried and apprehensive at the thought of being trapped in here. “H-Have you got your phone with you?”

“Damn. No, it’s on my desk. You?” Alex asks, frustrated her pregnancy brain had struck again, making her forget something as fundamental as her phone. Seeing the other woman’s expression Alex quickly realised neither of them had a phone.

Thankfully the lights stayed on, but the metal box quickly started feeling too small. Another cramp rolls across Alex’s large, full-term, belly and she can’t help but grimace.

“Oof…mmmnghh….” A moan slipped out under her breath, she rubbed the side of her twinging bump as the other hand automatically reached to the wall of the elevator for stability. “Hooohooo… not now…” Alex whispered.

The other woman looked at her nervously.

Colleen had two fears: contained spaces and her boss, Alex. Unfortunately for her, she was trapped in with both of them today. Alex’s pregnant belly straining the buttons of her work blouse did nothing to diminish her fearsome personality; if anything motherhood had only made her more intimidating, still a commanding presence in a roomful of men even with a swollen, overdue baby belly hanging off her frame.

Worse, her boss seemed a little more than uncomfortable in this situation. She’d seen her bite receptionists’ heads off her a wrong coffee order, but still, seeing Alex wince and rub her belly, which seemed to have dropped even lower this week, she felt compelled to hesitantly ask, “Ma’am, is everything alright? I’m sure they’ll realize we’re in here eventually.”

Alex gave Colleen a quizzical look, but on seeing where her colleague's gaze was, she realised she was rubbing the right side of her large pregnant stomach. She stopped, letting her arm fall limp at her side.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied curtly. “I just don’t have time for this today.” She sighed and looked around the cramped space, what she was looking for she didn’t know, but there must be someway to get someone’s attention and get them out of there.

She knew she was cutting it fine; both by how late she was going on maternity leave but also with how much she was trying to cram in to her last day. Her feet were aching in her 3inch heels having been on her feet for most of the day, in meetings and presentations and walking around the office trying to make sure everyone in her team was well equipped to continue things during her absence. She was heading down to the third floor for her next meeting with the team leaders, that was if the lift hadn’t so inconveniently broken down.

“So you don’t have your phone on you or any method of communication at all?” Alex griped, asking her mousy employee yet again. Hoping the woman would miraculously have a way of contacting the security team or something.

The baby in her womb seemed just as uncomfortable as Alex in this small space, shifting and kicking harshly against her taught and stretched skin. His head was sitting so low in her pelvis it felt like her hips were being pulled apart. She’d be happy when this pregnancy was over, she was done playing host, she wanted her body back. Though she continued to dress in her staple pencil skirt, blouse and heels, pregnancy be damned.

Alex began to pace around the room, finding herself needing to move, shifting the aching from her hips. Another braxton hicks decided to add to her problems, she huffed under her breath and faced away from the doors into the corner, blowing out a silent exhale through the twisting pain.

Colleen could tell by the way that Alex’s gaze flicked over her that she probably only recognized her face by sight and not by name. She seemed impatient, which wasn’t unusual for such a busy, ambitious, work-minded woman, but there was something else in her impatience, an almost shifting restlessness that seemed to match the restless movements in her packed womb. The fabric of her blouse was almost see-through, stretched so thinly around her massive swell, and Colleen could observe visible ripples against the tight skin of her belly. She winced. Colleen wasn’t at an age where she had seriously considered children, but her respect for her boss had grown immensely, seeing her waddle around the office in her pencil skirt and blouse, seemingly as efficacious as ever.

Alex’s restlessness became even more pronounced when she turned away from Colleen, as though hiding her big belly and whatever was going on inside it.

“I don’t have my phone,” Colleen said helplessly, hoping it wouldn’t result in a chewing out. “I left it in my handbag on my chair.”

Alex let out a disgruntled sigh, half from annoyance at her staff’s serious lack of organisation - who goes anywhere without their phone anyway? - but also from the way in which this false contraction was starting to bite.

The practice pains had been a consistent thorn in her side all day and it was really starting to get on her nerves. She’d successfully managed to grin and bear it through this morning's presentation to the board but by lunchtime they were starting to take her breath away. Still, Alex carried on. There was just too much to do and not enough time. It was why she was working right up to her due date, not that she told the company that. They’d have forced her out weeks ago if they knew she’d technically passed her due day on Tuesday.

When the pains passed, Alex spun around and walked determinedly towards Colleen who appeared to brace herself for something. She always got a warped joy when they did that. Leaning past her employee, Alex began pressing buttons on the lift and found the emergency call button. “Let’s try this shall we.” Alex smirked at the hesitant Colleen. Unfortunately the emergency button did absolutely nothing at all.

“Umm,” Colleen scratched awkwardly at her neck, trying to disguise her growing panic. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped, but more so she knew as things continued to go wrong her boss’s mood would continue to sour, and didn’t want to remotely be in her vicinity when it did.

She tried not to look at the immense belly taking up most of her field of vision, though it was hard not to glance at it, especially when making eye contact with Alex was such a terrifying experience.

“We could shout for help?” Colleen suggested. “Maybe someone will hear us from whichever floor we’re on.”

“Eugh… if you want to shout then go ahead.” Alex dismissed, and continued back to her pacing around the small space.

They stayed in awkward silence, the only sounds were the clack-clack of Alex’s heels on the metal floor as she did loops around her section of the lift. She had one hand on her back, knuckles pushing into the base of her spine as it ached and spasmed. She’d managed to breathe her way through a few more of the annoying cramps but they were soon joined by a serious increase in pressure.

One particularly forceful twinge made her gasp and stop her pacing, one hand flying to the wall to lean against as the tightening got stronger and stronger and stronger. She couldn’t stop the low hum she made in her throat as the cramp continued its assault.

Colleen didn’t dare to open her mouth to shout, knowing she’d probably receive a dirty look and a complaint about a headache for her troubles. Instead she watched as her boss paced, again noting her restlessness and the hand bracing her curved, strained back as well as the hand constantly circling and resting on the broad shelf of her belly, as though to soothe the baby inside. This time, though, she noticed Alex’s walk, the way she waddled as though encumbered not only by the weight of her huge bump, but a pressure of sorts between her legs.

She more than suspected Braxton Hicks at this point, but her worst suspicions were confirmed when her boss finally leaned against the wall as though unable to support her own weight or trying to escape a deep pressure from her womb. She hummed, lowing as though she’d momentarily forgotten Colleen was there, absorbed with sensations from her pregnant body.

“Ma’am, are you okay?!” She stepped closer, hands spread like she didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re having a contraction, right. Oh god. Oh, this is so bad.”

Alex waved a hand away at the approaching colleague, keeping her at arm's length. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hoooo…. It’s nothing, it’s just a c-cramp that’s all… mnghhh…”

Her hand drifted lower and brushed along the underside of her stomach needing to try and find some way to ease the ache that was gnawing through her belly. She could feel her knees start to wobble and she breathed steadily, her weight supported by the wall, until it passed.

“See, it’s gone now. I’m fine.” Alex stated confidentially, her work facade firmly replaced. “Someone better get us out of here soon, I’m gonna bloody fire that security officer.” Alex muttered aloud.

She wanted to resume her pacing, her hips needed the constant movement, but her feet were far beyond protesting the high heels - they were downright screaming at her. Too exhausted to keep up every one of her professional fronts, Alex resigned herself to the comfort of bare feet and uncharacteristically kicked off her shoes.

Colleen nodded furiously at Alex’s dismissal of the pains. “Right! Of course, just a cramp. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

The young employee didn’t know much about pregnancy and birth, but she’d seen enough media about it to know that Alex closely resembled that of a woman in labor: the characteristically low, dropped belly, the consistent cramps, the restlessness. But…. that’d be impossible, right? There was no way she’d had the misfortune to be trapped in a lift with her boss of all people, and especially not an Alex in labor. That was not an encounter Colleen particularly wanted to be around.

She reassured herself. Even if those cramps coursing through Alex’s obviously overdue belly were labor pains, labor could take days, right? They couldn’t be stuck in here for more than thirty minutes, someone would absolutely notice Alex’s absence if not Colleen’s. She was too important to the company. Then, Colleen could get back to her emails and Alex could be sped off to the hospital or wherever she preferred to drop that kid.

These hopes wavered when Alex kicked off her shoes, pacing in her stockings. Colleen’s eyes widened. This was a ridiculously unprofessional move for Alex, she knew that for sure.

Without her black patent heels Alex shifted anxiously on flat swollen feet around the confined space, gradually feeling the temperature rise and the air thicken. There was no circulation in the small box, no air conditioning or fresh air coming through any gaps or vents. She could feel sweat start to dampen the back of her neck, her curled hair sticking to the tacky skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, arms stretching up and belly sticking out, picking up the ringlets from the back of her head and lifting them off her neck allowing some air to cool her overheated skin.

The Exec huffed an exhausted sigh. “How long do you reckon we’ve been in here?” Alex asked breathlessly to her subordinate.

She had given up on pacing and resorted to standing at the back of the lift and next to the metal railing that ran across the width of the back wall. Her hips swayed side to side, she breathed slow and deep, and occasionally would place a subtle hand on the railing for support.

The persistent braxton hicks were grating, chipping away at her resolve. It was probably just the confinement and heat, being stuck inside this metal box, but it felt like the intensity of the cramps were getting worse. She caught herself moaning under her breath when they struck, she tried to swallow the noise but it was never quick enough to remain totally silent. She wasn’t in the mood to field questions or concern from Colleen so she had to get those moans under control. Unfortunately for Alex, when the next contraction appeared it came on so suddenly she didn’t have time to prepare. The pain lanced across her stomach and Alex doubled over gasping, hands flying out and gripping the railing tight, an unusual groan rumbled from her throat.

Having watched her superior endure what were undeniably contractions at this point, Colleen’s concern had only multiplied. If she hadn’t been certain when Alex kicked off her heels (swollen, aching feet weren’t exactly uncommon in pregnancy, right?) or when sweat began to bead on her forehead in contrast to her usual inclement coolness (well, it is hot in here with no air conditioner, and she must be dying carrying around all that belly in such cramped quarters), there was not a doubt in Colleen’s mind when Alex clutched at the railing and moaned, low in her throat. It sounded so unlike Alex’s clipped, sharp tone. Almost animalistic, like something natural, a sudden instinct to vocalise as her belly contracted.

“Er—ma’am?” Colleen kept her distance, eyeing Alex’s heaving swell. “Are the, um, cramps getting stronger? They seem—well, they seem like they’re closer together too. Almost like—”

She didn’t dare say the word. Alex, she knew, didn’t like contradictions to what she said.

Instead she answered her boss’s previous question. “It’s probably been, oh I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?”

At the other woman’s panicked questions Alex managed to grit through her teeth a dismissive “… I’m fine!… mnghhh!” Alex tried to straighten up, to preserve appearances, and found she couldn’t - not while her muscles were still seizing. Instead another groan slipped from her mouth before she could clamp it shut.

“I-I think- they might be more than just cramps…” Alex panted as the worse seemed to fade away. “I think these m-might be… hoooo practice labour pains.” The Exec admitted hesitantly to her employee, removing one hand from the railing to circle around the heavy weight of her hanging bump.

She had a reputation to maintain, appearances to uphold, and Alex didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to anyone with an employee ID card. But as the waves continued she was forced to admit to her one companion she was indeed suffering from Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was fine, Colleen was only one person and after today she would be going on maternity leave and wouldn’t have to see anyone for months.

But this baby better quit practising for the main event soon. The false pains were aggressive and forceful, the weight of the baby’s head pressing so hard against her pelvis it felt like it was about to drop out any second. She hoped by the time they were rescued the baby and her body would have settled down. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“They better get us out of here soon…” Alex breathed heavily and quietly. Then realising her company added “I’ve got a meeting at 4pm with the CEO.”

Colleen tried to keep her face neutral, even as her boss doubled over groaning, her belly tight around her middle. Alex’s thighs were wide in her pencil skirt and Colleen could tell by their restless shifting and the slight bending of Alex’s knees that she was feeling the urge to spread them even more, not quite a squat yet but unable to stand with any poise anymore. Inwardly, though, her thoughts were racing. Braxton Hicks weren’t powerful like this, were they? After all, if they had forced a woman like Alex into a panting dishevelled mess, they must be pretty strong.

‘Should I tell her it sounds like she’s having contractions?’ Colleen deliberated. By the minute, she could tell Alex was progressing into her labour. Even as she struggled to maintain her image her body was getting her ready for birth, and Colleen knew that even her boss’s willpower wouldn’t halt such a natural, primal process. Then again, if Alex wanted to be in denial, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. They still had to wait in this lift until rescuers showed up—Colleen might as well not lose her job on top of it.

Instead, she nodded again. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, practise pains. I’m sure they’ll subside before long. They’re supposed to be quite irregular.”

“Exactly… hoooo… I just need to ride them out. It’s fine. Hoooo…” Alex’s usually assertive voice sounded somewhat unsure. She didn’t like it.

Both hands returning to the railing, facing the wall, Alex found her weight shifting from hip to hip. Her stance was wide - when did that happen?- and her blouse was damp with sweat. The boss was grateful there was not a mirror in this lift, dreading to think what she looked like.

The false pains didn’t seem to be fading anymore, staying at a constant ache in her womb with agonising peaks shooting across her back and down her thighs. She prided herself on her ability to handle any challenge, but for the first time in her life she doubted her willpower to make it through. If this was practice labour she did not want to experience the real thing. Perhaps she should organise a c-section when she gets out of here.

The pressure in her pelvis was getting almost unbearable, and combined with the false contractions that continued to strike, she felt herself losing control of her autonomy. Her body was shifting and moving of its own accord and ghastly noises were coming from her mouth. Her hips were on fire, a weight pressing and splitting them apart. She bent over gripping the railing, flat back and hips shifting backwards. Her legs tried to stand further apart but were stopped by the tight fitting pencil skirt around her thighs. The groan that left her mouth was unrecognisable, like she was possessed. As the pressure built and built, she could feel an urgency sinking lower and lower. Before she knew it the sounds from her mouth had deepened, her heavy breathing ending with an animalistic grunt.

Colleen continued to observe as Alex made noises that she couldn’t even reconcile with the aloof, in-control Alex that she knew. Wide-eyed, she couldn’t stop staring as the laboring woman paced the tiny space. Her grunts, the way she hissed through her teeth, with every sound she appeared closer and closer to giving birth. Her waddle was pronounced, almost bowlegged as though there was a deep weight between her legs, forcing them apart and pulling her closer to a grounded position. ‘Holy shit,’ Colleen thought. ‘She’s about to drop her baby!’ She didn’t know a thing about midwifery or delivering a child. Much less delivering for a mother who refused to even admit she was in labor.

Colleen tried to track Alex’s contractions in her mind as they ramped up in both frequency and intensity, but found it hard without a watch or a way to tell time. Eventually she gave up, reassuring herself that the next stage of labor wasn’t yet upon them, and that unless Alex broke her waters the baby would remain inside her womb until they could call some paramedics. Still, she didn’t like the fact that Alex appeared to be losing her calm, composed self. Drenched in sweat, grunting and groaning through contractions, her body was obviously telling her it was time, and Colleen wondered if she’d even let her help if it came down to her pushing her kid out into her pantyhose or exposing her heavily pregnant self to a random colleague.

Alex’s grip on the railing tightened as she felt her legs start to tremble. Pressing her forehead against the cool metal wall, she released a shaky exhale. She couldn’t think… hell she could barely stand. Every part of her entire being was consumed and overwhelmed by the pressure and pain between her legs.

In some buried corner of her mind an instinct was telling her to get lower to the ground, to remove her skirt and tights, to open up her legs and hips. Alex fought against the idea, she’d already lost enough dignity trapped in this lift with some entry-level employee, she was not going to make it any worse. But when the next contraction struck, any fighting spirit she had seemed to evaporate.

“Ohhhh god!!!! Mnnnghhhh!” She groaned, long and deep, rocking herself forwards and backwards and clinging on to the only thing keeping her on two legs. “The pressure….. hoooooo…. There’s so much -mngh!- pressure!!! Mnngghhhhh!!!”

Her body sank back deep into her hips, knees dipping slightly in her tight pencil skirt and belly hanging to the ground, her backside swaying in the centre of the confined space. She could feel her muscles squeezing with the force of contraction, trying to do something. The baby dropped even lower and smashed through her cervix. She felt so full, the mass in her pelvis so heavy, and her body screamed at her to bear down.

“No…..” Alex cried aloud against nature's call. “No… don’t…” but her instincts took over and suddenly the mother-to-be was pushing.

“Ma’am!” Colleen cried, startled by such a stark display of utter abandonment from her boss. Her waters hadn’t yet broken. She couldn’t be pushing, could she?! Yet Alex was squat-standing and clutching the railing, the backs of her thighs trembling with an immense groaning effort. It sounded more forceful than just enduring the pains in her belly. It sounded as though Alex was actively doing something, putting in a hard, straining effort. Working with her body without a thought in her mind except birthing her baby. Between her spread thighs, Colleen could see the underside of her stomach, hanging low, uterus clenching her belly into a hard, tight ball. The way she bent her knees periodically, grunting uncontrollably each time… it was as though she was trying to force something low and heavy through her bottom. Everything about Alex seemed heavy, gravid.

She groaned again, and Colleen gasped, “Ma’am, are you pushing?! You can’t push, not yet!”

Tentatively, she placed her palm against Alex’s swaying lower back, curving with the weight of her belly. She began to rub and massage the tense muscles, not knowing what else she could do to help. The way Alex seemed consumed with birthing, Colleen didn’t think she even noticed her.

“Unnhhh- I’m not pushing! I’m not- ohhhhhhh- I’m not in labour damn it!!!” Alex’s staccato breaths carried her continued denial of what was happening to her body.

She gasped, breath holding in her lungs, and her body pushed again without instruction. Alex ignored the faint relief that was gained with the push, the satisfaction of the productive contraction, the moving of the baby as it neared its exit. But then the urgency faded, the contraction eventually dimmed, and Alex could think again. She had control again.

It was then she noticed the hands that were rubbing her lower back. Startled Alex abruptly stood upright and glared at the presumptuous woman beside her. “What on earth are you doing?” Alex sniped, waving an arm and shooing her away.

The nervous employee recoiled back and Alex shifted around the space again, both hands holding the large belly about to burst out the sweat-dampened blouse. “I am not in labour.” Alex repeated firmly, forcing the confidence as if willing it to be true. “I am not having this baby, and I don’t need your help.”

Colleen barely managed not to gape. Here Alex was, belly gleaming with sweat under her soaked blouse, contractions ramming her incessantly, curly hair damp and mussed in the heat of the lift. Her cheeks were splotchy and red with exertion and her chest was heaving, from the release of the contraction or from the force of her obvious pushing, Colleen couldn’t tell. All she did know was that her boss was actively bearing down, that much was clear. She would have thought anyone else was joking, but she didn’t think Alex had a sense of humor. She had to be in denial, Colleen concluded. To squat down and push like an animal like that, then brush off help like it was nothing—if nothing else, Alex certainly had willpower.

Of course, modesty and willpower goes out the window when you have a baby coming out of you, and from the noises and pushing grunts Alex had been making, it couldn’t be long now.

“I-I’m sorry,” Colleen stuttered. “Those…. practice cramps seemed so intense. You seemed like—well, like you were—“

Under Alex’s exhausted glare, Colleen faltered and trailed off.

“Uhh, I told you… I am not in labour- hoooo- I am fine!” Alex swallowed a moan before it slipped out her mouth. “When are they gonna bloody get us -mnnnnh!- outta here!” Standing by the lift doors Alex stared at the vertical line where the two sides of the sliding panels met, glaring at it willing them to open.

The weight of the baby’s head had started to press against her opening, Alex’s legs forced even wider apart with the sensitivity. Buried under layers of denial and facade, the unconscious sense of urgency had been joined by desperation and it was making its way to the surface.

Her fingers pulled at her blouse, freeing the thin satin from her skirt and letting it drape down from the significant curve of her belly. The pressure between her legs was beginning to return, Alex could feel it coming. Her arms lifted, hands palming the lift doors, and before she knew it she was banging on the metal to try and get the attention of someone outside this tin can.

The banging didn’t last long before Alex was stopped by the sheer force of the next contraction. Her fingers slowly slid down the lift door as her body crumpled in half over her tight, rock-solid belly. Double over she braced herself against the lift door, thighs widening and knees buckling in a semi-squat, and her body bore down with everything it had. Whether she wanted to or not every muscle was tense and squeezing, pushing the large round shape down down and out of her body. A rumbled grunt echoed from her lungs as she strained and pushed and contracted, and the heaviness between her legs started to burn.

Colleen was hyperventilating, barely able to register her own thoughts over the din of Alex’s furious pushing, grunts and groans erupting from her throat without pause or respite. The baby had to be coming soon, with how forcefully and urgently Alex was bearing down. Colleen’s mind swirled. As Alex pushed she took up the mantle of alerting any outsider to their situation, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting over Alex’s uncontained moans.

“Help! Help us! We’re trapped in the lift and there’s a pregnant woman in here! She needs help, FAST!”

Alex’s voice rose to a deep bellow, trembling as though she was fighting an exhaustive battle against the baby inside her, bending her knees and opening her hips as wide as they could go in an attempt to drive it down and out. As her voice took on a higher, strained quality, Colleen began to suspect that something astonishing was taking place under her pencil skirt, that with all the pushing she’d been doing, the baby couldn’t possibly be very far from its only way out of her.

“Alex,” Colleen cried desperately. “What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!”

“You- mngh- don’t need to do anything cos mngh- I am not having this baby!” Alex grunted out, palms flat on the metal door, legs bent and wide beneath her skirt. “I am not in labour- hooo- I am not in labour…”

The exec panted the mantra over and over, fighting against her body’s urges to bear down. This baby was not being born in an elevator. She just had to breathe through the pains and she would be in the comfort and safety of a hospital soon, having a c-section damnit. That is what would be happening, not whatever the hell this woman was panicking about. Alex was in control, she always was in control, and the birth of her baby would be no different. She pushed herself off the doors and tried to move, to breathe through it, but the second she turned around her body doubled over and she gripped the railing to keep herself on two legs.

And then the burning got worse - the weight pressing lower, stretching apart her lips. The instinctual need to bear down was no longer a strong suggestion but a screaming demand. Alex was barely aware of her body’s actions anymore, she just wanted it all to stop. All she could do was gasp for air in between the bursts while her body forced the baby lower and lower - the head spreading her most intimate part around its giant surface. I will not have my baby here I will not have my baby here she chanted with every uncontrollable push.

Her thighs pulled the skirt as wide as it would go trying to make room, her whole body weight thrown forward as she leant over gripping the railing, arms locked and knees bent. But her hips weren’t wide enough, her body was too restricted by clothes, yet Alex was frozen to the spot as she grunted and roared with every wave. Soon the growling noise from deep in her throat turned into a pained whimper when the baby’s head pushed right through and fully crowned into her thong and stockings.

Colleen watched in horror as fluid suddenly spurted from between Alex’s thighs, soaking the floor of the elevator, filling the contained space with a musky, almost fertile scent. Alex shivered, lifting onto her toes as she gripped the railing. She looked as though her entire body was being pulled downward with the force of her descending baby. Her stockings were drenched—Colleen could scarcely believe the amount of fluid Alex’s body had let out, and it was still dripping and leaking from inside her skirt. She felt nauseous looking at the spreading puddle beneath Alex’s feet, and thought to herself, no doubt about it, there’s her waters. The release didn’t diminish Alex’s groaning efforts, though; if anything, the sudden breaking seemed to only renew her utter need to birth, nothing impeding or delaying its progress any more.

Except, of course—

Colleen gasped. “Ma’am—Alex—your skirt!”

Alex’s thighs trembled and quivered, spread so far that Colleen could see the hem of her skirt cutting into the flesh of her legs. She was trying to instinctively widen them, Colleen realized. She needed more space, even with them spread so far already, and Colleen could barely imagine the sheer size of the baby coming out of her boss. Then she didn’t have to imagine. As she watched, Alex’s skirt began to tent out slightly, tight against her backside as she doubled over, back flat. Whenever Alex grunted loudly, bending her legs and clutching the railing, the bulge in her skirt grew. That’s the head, Colleen thought, her own head spinning. My god, it’s enormous. It was a miracle they hadn’t been found yet from the noises Alex was making, letting loose guttural groans and roars that echoed in the enclosed space. Her entire face was twisted with effort, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. All her strength was going into giving birth to her massive baby, but still, it didn’t seem to be enough, not with her skirt keeping her legs too narrow, her hips too closed. Alex’s skirt lifted and tented more and more, until it seemed to reach a peak. Alex’s voice slipped into a whimper and Colleen blinked, never having thought she’d hear Alex make such a vulnerable, sensitive sound. Then, Alex dropped into another hard push. The tent in the fabric stayed put.

“Your skirt,” Colleen said again, and hurriedly bent to pinch Alex’s skirt up. “Your skirt’s—“

From this angle she could finally see the crown, and drew in a breath. Her boss’s most intimate region was stretched and distended beyond recognition, lips taut around the huge head making its way out of her from behind her thong. The narrow strip of black fabric just contained the head’s huge circumference, cupping it tightly, barely allowing any more space for it to progress. Without room, Alex was stuck with a full crown between her legs, unable to push it out into her stockings.

With her boss barely able to speak anymore, Colleen made an executive decision. “I’m sorry, but we have to get this skirt off. Your baby’s coming, Alex. I can see the head! It’s coming out of you, and you need to let it, okay?! Come on, please listen to me.”

“No….unghhhh!” Alex mewled “I’m not having this baby… not here- ohhhhhhhh!”

The Exec had completely lost all semblance of control; doubled over, hanging onto the railing, legs wide and dipped as much as they could go. Alex couldn’t move. She hissed through her teeth, panting as her labia stretched thin, the baby sitting between her folds. But the baby couldn’t come now! It just can’t. She was at work for fucks sake! And worse, she was trapped in the lift. Real labour takes hours, days, there was no way she was pushing a baby out right now…

Her body argued against her thoughts as everything tightened and contracted once more. Gasping for air Alex tried to fight the muscles bearing down against the ridiculously large mass in her vagina, but panting through the pain didn’t do anything to stop the automatic pushing. Primal and animalistic noises left her mouth as her body pushed, her deep lowing reverberated off the walls.

Grunting at the end of each push, Alex tensed and strained, the instinct desperate to expel the child from her womb. But it wasn’t moving, slipping only the tiniest millimetre into her underwear. Heart racing Alex felt panicked - fighting hard against this birth and yet simultaneously trapped as the baby was stuck, held in by her tight stockings.

“Oh god!!!! Get it out- get it OUT!!!” She cried.

It was all too much; the burning, the fullness, the weight, the pressure. Alex collapsed under it all. She let go of the railing, legs shaking, and she clawed at the hem of her skirt trying to pull it higher, to give her hips more room. It was so tight, and her legs were so wide, her nails scraped across the surface of her stocking covered thighs as she gripped and pulled the black fabric of her skirt up towards her hips. But another wave crested and with it she was consumed by the need to bear down once more. Abandoning her skirt she held fast to the metal railing, her knees buckling trying to pull her down into a squat, but the pencil skirt creaked as the fabric stretched to its limits and she could only dip down slightly and push the baby against the strained clothing.

“I-it’s stuck!” Colleen stuttered. “The head is—” she raised her voice, tried to get through to Alex, but could barely even hear her own words over the almost-inhuman noises escaping from Alex’s throat as she fought desperately against the elastic of her thong, caught between the need to birth and the unyielding fabric of her stockings and the black fabric containing the massive head tightly in her vagina, shoving forward with powerful muscles as it wedged back inside her with just as much force.

She couldn’t open her legs any wider, Colleen saw. They shook violently as she threw back her head and let loose another deafening moan. From Alex’s furious face it was obvious that Colleen didn’t even register as a presence anymore, that the only thing in the world that Alex was thinking about in this moment was the head lodged between her tensed, opened lips.

Only when Alex started screaming that she needed it OUT, right now, was Colleen galvanised into action. She lowered from her crouch until she was kneeling between Alex’s legs. For a brief second, Colleen was in awe of the sight before her; the woman she’d known as a fearsome presence, a powerful executive, had been reduced to a groaning, sobbing mess, birthing into her skirt. Yet, this was her transformation into motherhood, and there was something powerful in that too.

“Alex,” Colleen said. “Alex, you have to stop pushing. I need to get your skirt down.”

She doubted Alex even heard her, but nonetheless she grappled with the clasp of Alex’s pencil skirt. The waistband was held taut by Alex’s widened legs as she tried to allow the baby to pass through, and Colleen was unable to undo the clasp.

“Shi-it,” she licked her teeth and then grabbed both ends of the waistband, pulling hard. The clasp tore off, and immediately the skirt loosened and sagged around Alex’s hips.

“Oohhhhhh… get-it-off-GET-IT-OFF!!” Alex yelled, feeling the tightness of the skirt loosen around her middle.

She had to push, she had to get this baby out now - location and present company be damned - the torturous stretching and excruciating pain had to stop. And Alex knew there was only way in which it would.

Her employee, whateverhernameis, was pulling the skirt over her widened hips and Alex squirmed and shifted with the fullness and desperation to bear down. When the skirt hit the floor Alex immediately stepped out of it and dropped down fully into a deep squat, roaring with the effort of another push. The woman was behind her, she thinks, but she barely notices… Alex’s arms stretch upwards, hands still gripping the railing, her body hanging off the support and almost swinging in her squat.

Her underwear and stockings were still covering her lower body but the freedom of being able to fully open her legs meant the baby could move further out. Alex pulled in a deep breath and bore down with everything she had. Silent in her efforts as all her focus went inward.

Part of her wanted to feel, to know how much of the baby was born and how much there was left to go, but she daren’t release her vice-like grip for fear of collapsing and losing her pushing position. She gasped, her throat scratched and raw, and clamped her teeth together and growled another push. The baby was coming, she could feel it slipping out and this time it wasn’t retreating. Harder and harder she leant into the push and finally the head popped out into her stockings. Alex sobbed with relief and collapsed back into her member of staff.

Colleen cried out in surprise as Alex fell back into her arms, leaning her entire body weight into them as though she had used up all of her strength, drained from pushing the huge head through her overstressed opening, and beneath her more fluid flooded the floor of the lift from the sudden release. Colleen gingerly caught her by the armpits, and Alex’s knees jackknifed apart, jutting upward as she lowered her bottom and hips beneath her, the head dangling between the apex of her thighs. She moaned, breathless, closing her eyes. Tear trails marked their way down her cheeks. Damp and shivering, with a baby hanging out of her, Alex was totally vulnerable to Colleen, hardly seeming to even notice her exposure or dependence on her.

Colleen couldn’t help but smile down at her superior as she swayed and panted in her arms. An hour ago, Colleen might have received a harsh glance for even brushing her fingers as she handed her a coffee. Now, she was holding her up while she prepared to push her baby into the world.

“Go on,” Colleen urged. “Feel the head. It’s out now. You’re almost there.”

“What? Hoooo… it-it’s out… the head?” Alex could barely catch her breath to form words, her full breasts heaving up and down on her belly as she gasped for air.

Somehow the mother-to-be was still upright in her squat but no longer holding the rail, somewhere in her mind she knew the other woman was quite literally holding her up to birth but Alex couldn’t bring herself to pay it any mind. Her only focus was her child emerging between her legs. With a trembling hand she placed a hand downwards and felt, through the sheer stockings, her baby’s head.

“Oh my god… hoooo… I’m having the baby…”

Through all the denial Alex’s brain struggled to compute what was happening. She had fought against it so fiercely, so vehemently, and yet very clearly beneath her fingertips was a baby’s head.

“My-my tights… I’m still wearing my tights?! Oh no… the baby…the tights are over his head… have to get them off!” Alex shifted awkwardly, unsteady in her movements but seemingly desperate to free her emerging child from the confines of her stockings.

“Hoooo…. Ohhhh no….” Alex suddenly whimpered. “Ohhhhhhh I n-need to p-push again…. No… need-tights-off…Don’t push… mnnghhhh…”

“Hold on,” Colleen muttered, working out the logistics of removing Alex’s stockings with her squatting and crowning a baby into them. She heard Alex’s hushed voice, articulating her primal urge to bear down once again.

“Just a moment,” Colleen said, crouching lower while supporting Alex’s labouring body, wrapping her thumbs around Alex’s waistline.

She was close enough to smell the subtle aroma of Alex’s deodorant and the natural odors of birth on her, and see the sweat beaded on her neck. She saw every one of Alex’s muscles tense, her tendons standing clear. Alex moaned, already in the forceful grips of another contraction. Her moan tightened and deepened, and Colleen had listened through enough of her contractions to know that she’d begun to push against her will.

“Alex! No pushing, just hold on a few more seconds,” Colleen said, frantically tugging the stockings down her waist and glutes. Unfortunately, Alex didn’t seem to have any more seconds in her.

“Ohhhh GOD,” she bellowed. “Oh, I’m PUSHINGGGG!” She bore down relentlessly, and Colleen saw the head give a surge against the tight fabric.

Colleen cursed again. Between the baby being squeezed into the stretching fabric and Alex’s parted thighs and widespread knees, there was no way Colleen could even slide the stockings past her crotch. Which meant she couldn’t access Alex’s underwear either. The tent grew and shoved down toward the floor impossibly as Alex sank into her push.

Hopefully, she won’t be too mad about this, Colleen thought, then she seized fistfuls of fabric and tore, ripping a seam large enough for the head. Then she looped her finger around the thong and quickly pulled it to the side.

‘Okay! Okay, I think it’s free!” Colleen announced.

“Ohhhh fuck!!!! It’s coming outtt!!!” Alex cried, gasping a desperate breath in between her body’s involuntary pushing and she felt the burning ring return.

A deep and gravelled roar rattled her throat as the shoulders stretched her sore and sensitive lips. Her baby… it was coming out… in the elevator at work! She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Gripping her knees she fully leant into the contraction, using every bit of it as her hips sank towards the floor and her muscles pushed.

Suddenly she yelped and jolted in Colleen’s arms as one shoulder slipped free and Alex quickly and instinctively let go of her knees to put both hands between her spread thighs. The baby’s head and neck were in her uncertain hands and she grunted, low and long, desperately calling on every ounce of strength she had left to get the infant out.

With a roar-turned-wail Alex cried out as the baby slipped from her body and shot into her waiting hands.

Up. She had to bring him up, had to hold him. In a fraction of a heartbeat Alex had pulled the baby from between her legs and held the slippery newborn against her chest.

“Y-you’re h-here… oh baby… you’re here…” Alex sobbed, wiping the blood and fluids from his face. It was scrunched and red, eyes not yet open, his body curled up tight. Then his fists pushed against her breast, legs kicking and discovering new sensations, and the little bundle let out a high-pitch cry as he opened his eyes.

Colleen let Alex slip from her arms to the elevator floor, cupping her baby gently in her arms and murmuring softly. She rocked slightly, and even in the enclosed space it seemed to Colleen as though Alex was in her own world, far away from anyone or anything else. She backed away, allowing Alex her moment to meet the child she’d worked so hard to carry and birth. She didn’t think she’d be able to see Alex as she had before, the untouchable executive. Instead, she’d witnessed Alex’s most intimate, vulnerable moment, even helped her through it. She smiled to herself and Alex cooed, her face close to the baby at her breast.

The quiet peace of the lift was disrupted by a banging on the metal ceiling.

“Hey—! Is someone in here? And, is that a baby crying?!”

Colleen met eyes with Alex, and laughed weakly. “I don’t suppose this qualifies for a promotion, does it?”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi! I have a request for you 💜

Reader gets their period for the first time at older!eddie’s house and is very embarrassed about it, but he is the sweetest and super supportive.

If it’s not your thing, I understand. I just started my period and need older!eddie to take care of me 😭😭

I’m about to start mine so I felt that!

older!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: obvious mention of reader getting her period, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

You were pretty shameless about your period. Both getting it and talking about. You thought it was just something that happened and didn’t understand why there was so much stigmas around it.

That was, until you started it at your new boyfriend’s house. And he had been the one to notice it. You were about to go to sleep, Eddie cuddling up to you when he noticed something wet on the back of your pajama pants. It was red so it could have only meant one thing.

He leaned over, his lips right by your ear. He had never had this happen, but he still knew exactly how to handle it. He was going to be as gentle as possible. It wasn’t your fault so he didn’t see why he should have blamed you. And he could just throw everything in the washer. It was no big deal.

“Hon, I think you started your period,” he whispered. Your cheeks went warm and you turned, pulling your pants as you did so to get a better look at the stain.

And sure enough, he was right. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed. You always did. You were always prepared. At least, you usually were.

You quickly got out of the bed and saw that the blood had transferred onto the sheets. It wasn’t much, but the fact that it had happened at all made you feel embarrassed.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s alright, angel.” He grabbed hold of your waist and pulled you closer, looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I promise it’s not a big deal. We’ll throw the sheets into the washer and I’ll get a shower started. And while you’re in there, I’ll run to the store and get your favorite snacks. And after you get out, we’ll watch a movie of your choice. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great. Thank you, Eddie.”

“Of course, honey. Now come on, I’ll set up the shower for you.”

Eddie led you to the bathroom and turned on the water for you even though you knew exactly how to do it. He then waited outside the door until you got into the shower to grab your clothes. He just wanted to give you some privacy since you seemed to be on edge.

The hot water felt good on your skin, felt good against the cramps that had just started forming in your stomach. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Eddie. He had been nothing but gentle and caring about the whole situation. Other boyfriends you’d had over the years would have told you that it was gross and forced you to clean it up.

Maybe it was because Eddie was a man, but you weren’t entirely sure that had anything to do with it. You were convinced that even if he had been closer to your age that he still would have been a perfectly gentleman.

Once you got out of the shower, you reached for the towel Eddie had left for you and couldn’t help but notice that there was a pair of pajamas you always left there with a pair of panties lying on top, a pad laid inside of them. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you dried off. Just when you thought he couldn’t get more thoughtful.

Once you were dried off and dressed, you exited the bathroom and made a beeline for Eddie. He was standing on your side of the bed, plugging in a heating pad. More tears fell from your eyes as you made your way over to him, wrapped your arms around his waist as your pressed your face into his back.

He let out a yelp followed by a chuckle before he set the heating pad down on the bed, turning so that he could return your hug.

“What’s this for, hm?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, knowing that if you told him the truth, you’d just cry again. “I just love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he smiled, tilting your chin up so he could give you a kiss. “Now c’mon, it looks like you’re in desperate need of cuddles.” And you so were.

[barcaatthemoon]

Can you do Alexia for “It’s… different. With them, I spent most of my time longing for something that wasn’t even accessible. With you, I simply feel alive.”

I love your little blurbs❤️ They’re how I reward myself for completing tasks at work!

thank you, i've honestly had a lot of fun writing them. it's nice to have something small to get the fic momentum going.

different || alexia putellas x reader ||

it was the simplest things that always caused your feelings to hit you like a truck. alexia hadn't so much as looked your way once she had started to kick the ball around with the children. you knew how important it was for her to bring something worthy back to her hometown. she wanted to make things better and help in every way she could think to.

"i don't think i have ever been so proud of her," eli said, breaking your focus on alexia. you nodded in agreement. this meant the world to alexia. "i know that you do not feel like it, but i am proud of you too. you helped her more than you know, mija."

you had never been good at taking praise, and now was no different. your cheeks heated up with a mix of embarrassment and shame. truthfully, you didn't feel like you had done anything for alexia. this was all her, you had just been her girlfriend for the most part.

"gracias eli." you bowed your head towards alexia's mother.

"i mean it, talk to her. have the big conversations that you are afraid of, nothing bad can come of it. your love is special." it was hard, but you did take eli's advice that night. alexia had brought you back to her childhood home for the night, even if her bed was far too cramped for the two of you to get comfortable.

"you did good today, ale. everybody is so proud of you for this, it's going to be amazing," you told her. alexia smiled as she turned just enough to stare at you in the light coming from her tv. "i wish that i could do something special to help people. sometimes i feel like nothing. i mean, you've had a pretty impressive string of girlfriends."

"you are nothing like any of them, you're different."

"ale, that's not exactly comforting," you chuckled. you knew that alexia didn't mean it like that, so you couldn't help tease her.

"it's... different. with them, i spent most of my time longing for something that wasn't accessible. i didn't know what it was until you came alone. with you, i simply feel alive. all of this, i did it because i felt like i could with you supporting me. don't ever feel like nothing because to me, you are everything mi amor." alexia cupped your cheeks and leaned in to kiss your forehead. you scrunched your face up a bit, only to relax it again after alexia gave you a proper kiss. "now, let's get some rest. i promised the girls i would come to the park bright and early for a pick up game."

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Rotting Divinity.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.9k.

TW: Reader Is Referred To As A Shrine Maiden But Gender Neutral, Set A Few Years After Dottore Starts Experimenting On Scaramouche, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Behavior, Kidnapping, Themes of Chronic Illness, and Mentions of Human Experimentation.

Scaramouche opened his eyes as the sun set, casting the sky a dull pinkish blue. You were standing above him, a straw basket on your hip and a frown tugging on the corners of your lips.

He let a groan as he hauled himself into a more dignified position, palms planted in the raw dirt and dried grass caught in his hair. One glance was spared to establish that he was no longer in the Doctor’s cramped observation room, all cold stone walls and porcelain tables with leather straps stapled into each corner, before his attention settled on you. “Mortal,” he barked, speaking loudly enough to hear himself over the pain still buzzing in his skull. “Which island is this?”

“Yashiori, near Serpent’s Head,” you muttered, disappointment heavy in your tone. When he clicked his tongue, you went on, your frown deepening. “You ruined my herb garden.”

Had he? He couldn’t remember anything after the Doctor worked those long, tapered needles underneath the skin of his forearms; after an iron mask was forced over his mouth and nose and he began to think his body may tear itself apart before that sadist had the chance to. He wasn’t supposed to be in Serpent’s Head. He wasn’t supposed to be on Yashiro at all. He hadn’t meant to be here, and yet, he’d be thrown in a cage of iron bars and subjected to another round of testing as soon as he trudged back to that dungeon of a facility. Thinking about the feeling of thick, pulsing electricity coursing through his hollow limbs was enough to send a familiar bolt of agony down the length of his spine. It was little more than a phantom, a shadow of the torture it would take to unlock his truepotential, but it was enough to leave him curling into himself involuntarily, glaring at the soil with a hollow type of malice.

He would’ve recovered in a second – less than a second, a moment, a breath – if you hadn’t fallen to your knees at his side, cooing as you pressed the back of your hand into his forehead. “Are you hurt?” If he’d tried to answer, his response would’ve been lost to your fussing, the way you hummed and shook your head as you hauled him to his feet. “Body aches? Migraines? Whatever it is—” An arm was drawn over your shoulders, his weight forcibly rested on you. “—I’m sure I have something for it inside. A place for you to rest, too – however you got here, the journey had to be burdensome.”

He considered protesting. Even in the state he’d been reduced to, it would’ve taken nothing to pry himself away from you, to shatter your ankles underneath his heel and leave you begging for the mercy of the creature you’d tried to pity. He could’ve penned a letter to the Doctor as you bled out in the soil of your own garden, recovered his strength as he took your body apart and fed your remains, piece by piece, to whatever scavengers would have you. He could’ve, if he’d wanted to. He could’ve, but then, he saw what you were wearing.

The sleeves of your kosode were rolled neatly to the elbow, the hems of your pleaded hakama dusted with dirt and grass stains. Unlike the maidens of Watatsumi and the Grand Narukami Shrine, you wore neither red nor blue, but white. Pure, never-ending white.

Scaramouche went limp in your hold, his eyes falling shut as you let out a surprised laugh, doing your best to accommodate his now-dead weight. He could kill you tomorrow, he figured. It was already dusk, and while he didn’t mind traveling at night, he knew the Doctor wouldn’t begin to wonder where he was until the sun rose tomorrow morning. He wasn’t a dog, eager to crawl home and prove his obedience. He could wait until he was called for.

At least, by then, your worrying might’ve done something to dull the burn of the electricity underneath his skin.

~

“So, you’re telling me that this is a waste of time.”

You ignored him with a light hum, a quick movement of your tasseled gohei. Normally, daily rites were something to be performed quickly and efficiently before the unlucky shrine maiden responsible for carrying them out returned to scrubbing floorboards and disturbing fortunes, but in a life as slow as yours, with so little to occupy the many hours of your countless days, even repetitive tasks such as this were given an unnecessarily artistic flourish. Scaramouche might’ve called it indulgent, if he ever decided to be so kind to you.

Currently, you were dancing in front of a dilapidated shrine at the base of the snake’s skull; the paint mostly chipped away and the wood close to rotting. You’d explained, four days after he first allowed you to haul him into your ancient cabin, that you would be responsible for rebuilding it once it inevitably collapsed, an honor only bestowed upon caretakers every few centuries, and he’d told you that you ought to save yourself a few decades and tear it down that day, but you’d only laughed. Most things he said made you laugh.

He'd noticed early on that you were of a weak constitution. Dark bags circled under your eyes despite how often and how deeply you slept, and you seemed unable to carry anything heavier than what could fit in one of your woven baskets. There should’ve been another shrine keeper, if not several. And, if there could only be one, then it shouldn’t have been you.

Still, Scaramouche was glad that you had been chosen, even if you were a bad fit for the position. If it’d been anyone else, he would’ve had to get rid of them days ago, and he was thankful to be spared the effort.

“It’s not,” you said, consciously clipping his choice of words. You finished your rite with a deep bow, then turned to Scaramouche. “Shows of dedication make him happy.”

“He being…” His gaze drifted upward, to the fanged skull. Orobashi no Mikoto – the beast’s name provided by some nameless well of knowledge that seemed to linger in the space between the back of his throat and the pit of his chest. Consciously, the only title Scaramouche had ever thought to put to the serpent was that of ‘festering remains’. “…the fucking corpse?”

Right. It was too easy to forget that there was a pretense to his time with you; that he was supposed to be some wayward, ailing traveler with a mysterious condition your charms and cures could only keep at bay. He wasn’t lying to you. All he did was lie back and let you fuss over his nonexistent pulse, the bloodless pallor of his skin, the way his temperature never seemed to rise above that of damp clay. He wasn’t like the Doctor – scheming and underhanded, prone to leading his victims in circles before gifting them with the mercy of a slow death – or the priestess he could only vaguely remember from his first days, all dark eyes and whispers of a merciful end. You liked doting on him, and he didn’t mind keeping his mouth shut.

“If you keep using that kind of language, you might have to start sleeping outside.” You took up the basket of lavender melons you’d (admittedly, unwisely) left in his care, snatching it away before he could add to the small pile of black seeds stacked on his opposite side. Your hastiness left one of the rounder melons toppling over the well-worn edge, though, and he caught it with a single hand, grinning as he dug his teeth into the ripe flesh and claimed it for himself. You rolled your eyes, but quickly occupied yourself with clearing away yesterday’s fruit from the shrine. “It’s not complicated. We keep him happy, hold our rites and make our sacrifices, and he ensures that my crops grow quickly and the village prospers.” A pause, a smile thrown carelessly over your shoulder. You smiled as easily as you laughed, something that irritated Scaramouche to no end. “If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be recovering half as quickly as you are.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” He dug his teeth into the lavender melon as you gathered your things, sugary juice turning his lips tacky as he went on. “I’ve always been hard to kill.”

You came to stand above him, your smile small and eyes vaguely narrowed. “If you’re feeling that strong,” you started, holding your now-emptied basket in front of you. “Then you shouldn’t mind weeding the garden and fetching water, this afternoon.”

It only took him a moment to think to protest, but you were already gone, stumbling down the mountainside as he hastily pushed himself to his feet. He called your name, but he could already hear your voice – rising above his in one of your obnoxiously repetitive hymns and drowning him out as he chased after you.

~

The villagers welcomed you as sheep welcomed field dogs; from a distance.

Scaramouche trailed behind you as you plodded through the humble village, humming and clutching your basket close to your chest, fiddling nervously with the pure-white material of your sleeves. The crowd parted around you, twin walls of watchful eyes and hushed voices forming well-ahead of your path and collapsing as you strode past them, either unable or unwilling to acknowledge the thick silence that seemed to hang over you like a shroud. Occasionally, you’d stop at a stall or a doorway, handing off bundles of wrapped herbs to gloved and trembling hands, and less often, you’d send him a smile over your shoulder, your tired eyes wrinkling at the corners, as if apologizing that he had to come along for such a dull errand. That was how you described it, when he asked where you went off to every few days. ‘Just a quick trip to the market,’ you’d said, as you tried to convince him to stay behind yet again. When he cited your poor health and his growing concern that he’d find you dead in that garden of yours one day, you didn’t waver. ‘You’ll only be bored if you come. The villagers aren’t very friendly.’

Scaramouche decided, mostly on a whim, that he would burn down this village before he returned to the Doctor. If he had time.

He moved to rush forward, to place himself at your side, but a hand shot out of a narrow alleyway and caught him by the wrist. It was a middle-aged blacksmith, judging by the ash smeared across his cheeks, the thick apron hanging from his neck. Scaramouche was quick to pull out of his filthy grasp, but he spoke regardless, his voice low and rough. “Mind your distance, boy.” A glance towards you, a deep sneer. “Don’t you know who that is?”

Scaramouche glanced over him, fighting the urge to scoff. “Why is no one speaking to the healer?”

“That’s no healer, that’s the shrine maiden.” He said it as if he’d caught Scaramouche attempting to throw himself into a rifthound’s mouth. “They cultivate the serpent’s remains. You’ll be dead in a week if you—”

This time, Scaramouche was the one to reach out, his hand wrapping around the blacksmith’s neck. By instinct, a bolt of pure, searing electro shot from his palm into the man’s neck, leaving him limp and convulsing in Scaramouche’s hold. Scaramouche released him as the last of the aftershocks faded, watching him collapse to the ground before planting his heel on the man’s diaphragm, prepared to shift his weight and crush whatever laid below his foot should the blacksmith say something to displease him.

“I’ll ask again,” he said, slowly, ozone thick in the air. “Why is no one speaking to the healer?”

~

Scaramouche returned to your cabin closer to sunrise than sunset. Somewhere, back in the village that he would see reduced to embers if it was his last act on the face of Teyvat, the charred remains of a blacksmith smoldered at the bottom of a stone well, and he opened the door to your ramshackle home with enough force to tear the rotted piece of wood from its hinges.

You were kneeling beside your work table, grinding dried lavender petals into a fine powder. He closed the space between you in a breath, knocked the pestle from your hand in another, then collapsed beside you. “You’re going to die?”

You eyed the spilled lavender wearily. “Even the archons will fall, eventually.”

He let out a ragged sob, burying his face in the dip of your shoulder. You allowed him to, your arms coming up to wrap loosely around him. You’d always been weak, but now, you seemed as feeble as a morning gale.

He was unable to speak, so you took up the mantle, tracing idle patterns into the base of his spine as you went on. “I know what they tell newcomers, about dead gods and their rot, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. He gifts us with herbs to cure our sick and soothe our elders and in return, someone sacrifices a few years. The villagers might not be able to linger, but they make sure I’m taken care of.” He felt you smile, heard you laugh. “So long as I get to help people, I don’t mind making sacrifices.”

“Other people don’t matter.” It took him longer than he cared to admit to pry himself away from you, to straighten his back and drag a deep breath into his aching lungs. He was thankful, not for the first time, that he couldn’t cry. You would only think him irrational if he fell apart so visibly. “How long do you have?”

Your head lulled to the side, your attention drifting to some indistinguishable point on the far wall. “Only the gods can say what fate has—”

“How long?”

“…another year.” Your tone carried a sort of detached acceptance, as if you couldn’t summon the energy to care. “Maybe two. The last caretaker was very fortunate – he survived half a decade in his position.”

He tried to speak, to scream at you for not telling him sooner, but his voice caught in his throat and you reached up, cupping his face in both hands. Slowly, with a dry chuckle, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. The cool porcelain of his skin sapped the warmth from yours, but for once, you didn’t seem to mind his unusual anatomy. “I hope I’ll be able to cure you, before I’m gone.” You were mumbling, now, speaking barely above your breath. “Do you think you’ll be able to stay for a little longer?”

He tried to answer, but you’d fallen asleep on top of him by the time he opened his mouth.

~

He left the next morning, while you were still tucked underneath a small pile of furs and quilts. A letter was penned and sent to the Doctor’s base, a caddy of wildflower seeds purchased from a young girl peddling wares by the side of the road, and he returned to your cabin just as your sleep turned restless. When you rose an hour past noon, he pestered you into taking him to the groove near the shoreline. By the time you returned, chiding him for distracting you from your responsibilities and pointedly ignoring the basket full of fruit at your hip, the sun was low in the sky and masked soldiers had stamped your garden into the ground. Your cabin was in flames and your shrine had been reduced to little more than a pillar of smoke in the distance.

Whatever concern you might’ve held for him was immediately forgotten. Dropping your basket, you moved to run towards the embers of your home, but Scaramouche caught you – one hand on your shoulder, another on your waist. Careful not to break what couldn’t be repaired, he forced you onto your knees, letting you scratch at his wrists as you screamed, the noise anguished and ragged. Masked soldiers gathered in the outskirts of his vision, but he bared his teeth, keeping them at a distance as you thrashed in his steadfast hold. Once he took you somewhere else, somewhere better, you’d be able to calm down.

Once he got you away from your rotting god and your unthankful village, you’d be able to worship something worth your time.

A moment passed, then another. Finally, the Doctor emerged from the crowd, his white coat unmarred by the ash in the air. He regarded you with a grin, then looked to Scaramouche. “This is the filthy toy you’d like to take home?”

It was a foolish question, undeserving of an answer. Scaramouche countered with one of his own. “Can you fix them?”

“Can I save a human being who’s been brought to the brink of death and infected thoroughly with the rot of divine remains?” The Doctor hummed, clicked his tongue. “That depends, little puppet. How much time are you willing to spend on my vivisection table?”

Scaramouche glowered, but he didn’t protest. Rather, he pulled you close – your crying softer, now, your struggling impossibly weak – and held you against his chest as he responded. “Do what you have to. They’ll be staying in my chambers, and you won’t lay a hand on them without my permission, doctor.”

“I do wish you could call me Dottore.” He sighed, shaking his head. His acquiescence was communicated with a dismissive roll of his wrist, a silent order communicated to his lackeys. His soldiers moved to take you up, but he kept you in his arms as he pushed himself back to his feet, letting you cling to and beat against his chest in tandem.

Your voice was hoarse, your shoulders trembling. Tears streamed freely from your eyes, and he allowed himself to wonder how poorly you would take it if he ran his tongue over your cheeks. “You— You monster. Hundreds of people will—"

“You said you wanted to stay with me, right?” His smile wasn’t as soft as yours, as comforting, but he did what he could. You let out another agonized sob, crumbling against him as he let his lips ghost over your forehead, speaking against your skin and above your wordless cries.

“Now, there’ll be nothing in the world capable of taking you away from me.”

[junicult]

!! the bachelors as fathers

contains ; sfw! sooo much fluff. fem!farmer. unnamed child. established relationships — marriage. your child is implied to be around kindergarten age. men that are good w kids hehehe. not proofread / slightly rushed in some parts. i’ll edit it later LOL.

note ; i get asks on this topic at least twice a week. i’m finally caving. here’s my birthday gift to you <3

harvey.

- he was honestly made to be a father.

- despite his taller stature, there was something about him that felt so comforting.

- if a child had walked up to him all alone, sobbing with snot down their nose, he didn’t hesitate to kneel and help them find their parent.

- soothing them, grabbing their hand and asking questions to calm them down.

- no, it wasn’t a daily occurrence but it’s definitely happened to him a couple times. and each and every time he was able to help them relax, and easily reunited them with whomever their guardian was.

- he’s good with kids. always has been.

- he probably even had a babysitting job every now and then when he was younger.

- there’s was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to have his own when he grew up. and when you just so happened to stumble into his life, marrying him with the same ideals…well.

- you obviously knew he wanted kids before you got married.

- and when you realized you wanted him to be the father of your child; was another one of those instances where you got to see just how good he was with them.

- hearing how sweet he’s always been to vincent during his doctor visits, especially when the boy was younger.

- he’s a girl dad. say what you will, but he is.

- he’ll sit at the unbelievably tiny table, cramped in the tiny chair with his knees up to his chest while he tips back the empty teacup and his pinky in the air.

- he’ll even wear the tiara.

- zero complaints.

- you and his daughter would literally be the most important things in the entire world to him. he’d do anything for you two.

- like…ugh. oh my god.

- sometimes you’d come home late, and you’d walk down the hall to hear his gentle voice animatedly in your daughters dark bedroom.

- and you’d peek in, and there he was sitting at the end of her bed, quietly reading while she sleepily listens all tucked in.

- or even times when you’d wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, confused.

- so you’d walk out to go find him, having no clue where the hell he was so you check your daughters bedroom,

- and well, there he is. long ass limbs tucked and haphazardly strewn about to make room for your daughter who lays next to him sleeping peacefully in her toddler bed.

- he’s not asleep (obviously), but he lays with his eyes closed until you gently creak the floorboard.

- “she had a nightmare.” is all he says, and it’s enough to make you smile.

- even though he’s already so health conscious…it only grows after you have a child.

- “did you brush your teeth? make sure to get the gums.” “a balanced breakfast is the perfect way to start the day!” he sounds like a elementary classroom poster.

- the minute someone in the house sniffles…he’s checking everyone’s temperature.

- during the winter, he’s at the door wrapping your daughter in multiple puffy coats, scarves, earmuffs, gloves, before letting her step outside.

- you’re not off the hook either, but you never bundle up the way he wishes you would.

- “why doesn’t mommy have to wear this?” she pouts while he’s helping her in her thick boots.

- “why don’t you ask her that?😊” (he’s instigating.)

- i’m telling you, girl dad.

sam.

- his own kids weren’t on his radar when you guys first started dating.

- but he’s always liked them. especially when vincent was born.

- he was that lowkey irresponsible but very responsible older brother.

- like, he’d be in his teens telling his very impressionable younger brother to say bad words and then would act shocked when he got in trouble for saying them.

- but when it came to being the oldest man in the house while their dad was away, he really showed maturity in helping jodi and being there for them.

- and while you both established a committed relationship, that one day you’d want to be married and have kids—he idealized it a bit more.

- but then again, it was still one of those things you both needed to really think and talk about before you even acted on it, especially since you got married young.

- lol i feel like jodi or marnie forced u guys to watch jas and vincent for a weekend once.

- and after how well it went, that was kinda when it clicked that you guys were ready.

- he’s both a girl dad and a boy dad.

- he’d literally jump for joy for either outcomes. he was just excited to finally be a dad after years of daydreaming of it.

- as much as i don’t wanna say it, i still feel like he’d be much better at the fun stuff then the parenting stuff.

- i just think it’s bc he thinks with his heart more then his head, and when his child is sad and pouting, he’s too sympathetic to hold his ground.

- he wouldn’t leave it all for you to do, but he’d definitely be worse at scolding if you aren’t by his side.

- like, she colored all over the walls or something. his initial reaction would be to freak out and find a way to clean it before you’d find out (he doesn’t wanna add more work to your busy day), but then he’d scold.

- “no, don’t do that. wall, bad. paper, good. understand? nod if you understand,” …well he’s trying.

- then you’d come home to see him scrubbing the walls while your child blissfully doodles in her coloring book on the floor beside him.

- if he had a son, he’d have a little bit of practice from those few years where he babysat vince.

- lol, there’s a lot of features your son would inherit between the two of you.

- but personality wise…your son is definitely a mini-sam.

- and imagine one day, it’s the early stages of spring so sam’s typical allergies start to act up.

- you’ve always known how to handle him when he gets really sick. but picture your red-nosed, leaky-eyed husband standing behind you while you rummage through the medicine cabinet,

- and all of a sudden you hear a familiar sniffle from down the hall.

- you just freeze, slowly turning to face sam who’s making the same face that you are. until he starts to laugh.

- yeah. so now here you are, both of your boys snuggled in bed with the same sickly look, mumbling about how grateful they are that you’re there to care for them.

- and here’s the thing. if your son is sam’s mini-me…then i can assure you you’re stuck with two of the clingiest boys by your side.

shane.

- he never really thought he’d get a loving, happy family of his own.

- but he definitely daydreamed of it in times when he really just wanted an escape.

- he was always the best with jas.

- he doesn’t necessarily treat her like his daughter. but it’s not like she gives him any reason to.

- he doesn’t treat her like a child, per say. just kind of like another person. probably bc of their trauma bond lol

- he cares for her like an older brother cares for his little sister.

- so even though he has jas in his life, someone he cares for so strongly, he still doesn’t think of himself as being a good father.

- when he met you though, and you were so reassuring and sweet, that thought definitely changed.

- it went from him seeing a life alone, to pondering a family of his own.

- when he finally had the motivation to clean himself up, it approached a couple years since he’s been sober and it was definitely in the forefront of his mind to start a family with you.

- i also think of him as a girl dad. i can’t picture him as a boy dad at all not even gonna lie 😭

- like he’d be the kind of dad that would dress as the supporting character in your daughter’s favorite movie for halloween (spirits eve wtvr)

- also the kind of dad that’d join in on tea parties as well, just with the most plain look on his face despite him not minding being there.

- also…let me tell you there would be a whole inside joke swear jar thing in ur house.

- when your daughter was old enough to decipher what words were “good” and “bad,” the swear jar became very important.

- i think it started when you were pregnant.

- “ah fuck, i think i cooked this wrong. damnit.” he’d mumble.

- “we should probably stop saying those before the baby comes.” you hum, and he looks at you all confused.

- “saying what?” bc they’re in his daily vocabulary to the point where he forgets they’re “inappropriate.”

- so there came the swear jar. and every now and then it’d be a little inside joke when he swore, you’d look at him like, “drop a dollar in the jar😁”

- and when you’d say one, he was so petty matching your exact tone and smile.

- your daughter just grew up with it. it became an even bigger inside joke when you were all sitting at the kitchen table one night, he leans in to take a bite of food and, “shit! that’s hot.”

- before you even said anything your daughter smiles exactly like you would, “that’s a dollar in the swear jar, daddy.”

- ur both STUNNED. and also very proud in a sense.

- you just burst out laughing while he tries to think of a counter, but really, he’s too amused to even say anything back (thus drops a dollar in the jar!)

- 😓😓he’d be the sweetest when it came to his daughter all sad about something.

- no matter what it was. even if she as much as scrapes her knee, he would be so affectionate.

- he’s not the “walk it off” kind of dad.

- if she came to him sobbing, he’d immediately calm her down by picking her up and propping her on the couch, searching for the stuff you use for wounds in the cabinets.

- “it’s okay, you’re okay. it was just a little scrape, you won’t even feel it tomorrow.”

- and he’s wiping her tears, pressing a kiss to her forehead before going into the freezer and getting her ice cream (before dinner😨) saying, “don’t tell mommy, okay?”

- although you try finish up work early enough to tuck your daughter in bed, sometimes you end up running late.

- so uh…shane sometimes forgets to put her to bed, and of course she’s not gonna say anything!!! bedtime is a child’s worst nightmare!

- and usually when that happens, you’d end up coming home to the sight of the two of them, knocked out sharing the same blanket on the couch, cuddled up together while the tv’s still on.

- and when that happens, well, you find it a little hard to take that sight away.

sebastian.

- girl dad. sorry i just had to start with it.

- maybe i could see him with a son, but honestly…no i can’t.

- but i’m not gonna lie to you,

- for a while i feel like he didn’t want kids. not really at least.

- he’d think about them and it was always a nice idea, until he really thought about it and all the mess that babies come with lol.

- plus at the point in his life when you two met, he just wasn’t ready. for a while at least.

- when you talked about it, the topic of children was only on the table. you knew you wanted them, just not yet.

- it took a good handful of years before you actively started trying.

- even though he was prepared during your pregnancy, i feel like it didn’t hit him he was a father until after ur baby was born.

- he fell in love. swear.

- like…that tiny, wrinkly little lump was his. he helped make that. and not only was it his but it was also the woman he loves’.

- it took him a while to get into the system of it all when it came to caring for the baby. i’m talking changing diapers, feeding, burping, things like that.

- but when he was left alone with her, he was kinda in his own little world. he could hold her all day and never get tired.

- and that was a concept so crazy to him bc he didn’t get that kind of love from a father growing up.

- which is exactly why i feel like he’d actually be such a great dad.

- he could be stern when he needed to be, but never strict.

- “eat your greens,” kinda dad LMAO. especially if you were the one to make them.

- when she’d come up to him with the messiest doodle of your little family on a piece of paper, he’d think of it as a masterpiece.

- he’s not very expressive tho LOL like he’d look at the drawing and only smile, a little “thank you,” in a sweet tone.

- that’s just how he is lol. on the inside he’s sobbing.

- it would always end up on the fridge.

- he spends a lot of time at home.

- which results in a lot of time he spends with your daughter, even while he’s doing his own thing on his computer working.

- but nearly every day he was greeted with a, “daddy, can we go somewhere? what’s mommy doing?” and depending on where you were, he’d help get her shoes on and take her out on a walk to go find you.

- she got her outdoorsy side from you, that’s for sure. but because she needs a guardian, he’s gotten much more used to being outside.

- it was often you’d be working on your crops outside, wiping sweat from your forehead & turn around to your daughter eagerly wanting to help.

- now, this is not to say that your relationship w sebastian was poor before you had your daughter, i’m not saying that at all,

- but because of her adventurous personality, and clinginess to the both of you—your bond grew even more.

- “she wanted to see you.” he’d sheepishly smile, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead while you both turn and watch her feed the chickens.

- “didn’t you have that website to finish?”

- “…okay i wanted to see you too.”

alex.

- absolutely wanted a family. holy shit there’s zero doubt in my mind.

- he’s kinda wanted a more traditional household, probably based on the ideals he grew up with.

- but he absolutely didn’t mind you being the breadwinner. he honestly enjoyed it much more.

- he’d spend hours daydreaming about living on the farm with you. carrying one child on his shoulders and holding the other’s hand while guiding them around the town’s fair.

- and lowkey, i feel like one of his favorite topics of conversation was discussing how your children would be raised lol

- talking in bed at night like, “i think our son would be a gridball fan. maybe even grow up to be a player himself.” while he sighs longingly.

- which also ties into me believe he’s a boy dad. you know he is.

- i definitely feel like he’d have a boy and a girl. it’s his dream.

- he’d be fine with two boys or two girls but when he daydreamed about his future, it was always you, your son & your daughter.

- it’s just once again the traditional picture of a household and even though i don’t really think he’s that old fashioned after he met you, i still believe he’d want 2 kids.

- he would seriously daydream it all the time. the months of your pregnancy, when you found out it was a boy he really saw his future fitting like a puzzle piece.

- after a couple years, your son (who may i add was literally his mini-me) got a bit older, you both discussed it was time for another.

- and when you found out it was a girl…god. i definitely think he cried, disagree all you want.

- he’s such a caring dad. i believe he wants the best for his children, and he knows what it was like to be neglected so i can never imagine him being like that.

- first of all, you already know every single day of the summer he’s bringing them down to the beach.

- packing a bag, (that takes him halfway through the day before he realized he forgot towels) propping up beach chairs & an umbrella for shade.

- he’s never opposed to a good sand castle. especially when he remembers to bring the little molds that help with the foundation.

- kneels in the shallow end, standing close to his kids when they want to swim.

- and he’s always a fan of recapping it with you at the end of the day.

- “tell mommy what you found at the beach,” he ushers, bouncing your daughter on his hip while your son eagerly begins.

- i feel like after having children, not only is he a good dad, but he becomes an even better husband to you.

- he just loves how hard you work for him and your family, so you can bet on mother’s day, or your birthday, he’ll be all about making it special for you.

- all of them wake up earlier then you, making breakfast (well, watching him make breakfast) before they put it all on a plate and deliver it to you in bed.

- ur the kind of parents that other parents are jealous of, y’know?

- he’s just so in love with you, and the kids you made. it makes him love you even more.

elliott.

- he’s always wanted kids. he would find himself daydreaming, even when he was in his early twenties, about one day raising a child with the person he loves.

- when he met you was the start of his writing career.

- at that point, it was a little underwhelming, which was the perfect opportunity to get start a relationship with you.

- you were both fairly busy, but the thing about his job was he could lounge in your cottage while you were off working,

- and when you were able to spare a few minutes, you could stop in and see him.

- while your relationship progressed, you began the discussion of getting married and having children one day.

- it just so happened to be right when his career was taking off when you finally settled into your lives together.

- which postponed trying for a little while, but eventually you were able to.

- lol, i’m gonna say it;

- without a DOUBT a girl dad.

- oh my god he would daydream of having a little you running around, tuft red hair with your sweet smile.

- and with how melodramatic he is, imagine that projected onto your daughter LMAO.

- if you couldn’t find him in his typical writing room sometimes, all u had to do was walk to your daughters room where he propped up his own little desk.

- just so he could be near her.

- he also is just entranced at all times, he loves holding her, just looking at her.

- he’s extremely helpful.

- for the most part, he was always immediate to react if your newborn needed something. the second she’s cry, he was up on his feet telling you to stay put.

- he’s just very understanding with how busy you are, and he never minded spending more time with his daughter.

- if it was the middle of the night, and she needed something, he’d always shake his head to you pushing off your blankets, whispering, “i got it, my love. go back to sleep, i’m sure she’s fine.”

- especially on days where he knows you’re particularly stressed, he’s not letting you lift a finger.

- anyways, it carried on when your daughter got older, too.

- she’d walk in all, “mommy, i threw up,” & he was on his feet to help before you even registered what happened.

- he’s just always been fantastic help.

- one of his favorite things to do is read to her.

- similar to harvey, except ten times more.

- he’s acting out each part, using different voices for different characters, making a grand show of it all just to hear his daughter giggle.

- it’s become a habit every night, and since you’re typically busy most evenings, it’s often you’ll come in to find him mid-storytelling.

- even if you intend on reading to her, you always end up stopping to let him finish. he’s so entertaining with it that even you’re interested in this plot line for 2 year olds.

- he’ll never skip this routine.

- and when he kisses her goodnight, he tucks her in, pushes her hair from her forehead and bends down to plant a soft kiss.

- “goodnight, sweetheart. sweet dreams.” he always says.

- he’s gentle with you, he’s even gentler with her.

[bruhnze]

could you write a Ona/Lucy hurt comfort period sex fic?

Yes, i can :)

I’ll be right back - Lucy x Ona

This is not for everybody, i am aware of that, but i liked the idea and i wrote something... after i did i realised some might not really like the topic, and now i am a bit insecure about posting this... (what i shouldn't supposed to be bcs periods are not supposed to be a taboo topic) but i will put a disclaimer: period sex, on this.

Warnings: soft smut, hurt/comfort. minors dni.

Wordcount: about 2500 🤠

Ona laid in bed, curled on her side, hugging the heating pad to her stomach. No matter how much she shifted, she just couldn’t get comfortable. First she was too hot, then she was cold again. Her clothes felt wrong, her position in the bed felt wrong and the nagging pain in her lower back only made things worse. Her headphones were in, sad music playing on repeat, her eyes shut tight. Her brows furrowed in discomfort, her slow breathing tense and uneven.

To add to her annoyance, Narla and Coco scratched lightly at the door, but Ona had locked them out earlier, unable to deal with their boundless energy. Still, this wasn’t much better.

Suddenly, her stomach twisted in another sharp cramp and she grimaced, her body tensing as she breathed through the pain until it finally faded again. The sad music matched her mood perfectly as she felt physically and emotionally drained. Deep down, she wished Lucy was here.

Lucy had gone out with friends. Ona had said she didn’t feel up to it, that she rather stayed home. Maybe she had encouraged Lucy to go without her, sure—but she’d secretly hoped Lucy would stay. Lucy knew I was on my period, Ona thought, feeling disappointment. Pouting, she started to feel sorry for herself, and before she could stop it, tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt silly for being so childish, and a minute later, that sadness turned into irritation, directed at Lucy. She could’ve known I wanted her to stay home.

..

A while later, the front door opened, but Ona didn’t stir, too exhausted and wrapped up in her music to notice.

Footsteps echoed through the apartment as Lucy returned from her outing with friends. She was in a good mood, still smiling, but as soon as she stepped into the quiet home, something felt off.

“Narla? Coco?” Lucy called, spotting the dogs sitting patiently by the bedroom door, their tails wagging.

Frowning, Lucy gently pushed the bedroom door open. The dim light filtered through the room, and the first thing she saw was Ona, curled up under the blankets, headphones in, her expression drawn and tired.

Concern immediately replaced Lucy’s earlier cheer. She slipped into the room, careful to keep the dogs out, and sat quietly on the edge of the bed, not wanting to startle her.

“Ona,” Lucy whispered softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder. When Ona didn’t respond, Lucy carefully removed the headphones, setting them on the bedside table.

Ona blinked up at her, eyes red and tired, but she managed a weak smile. “Finally found your way home?” she murmured, her voice quiet and a little hoarse.

Lucy’s concern deepened. “What’s going on, love?” she asked, brushing a hand through Ona’s hair, her thumb gently tracing her temple. “Period cramps?”

Ona sighed and glanced down. “Yeah,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly, but Lucy’s soft gaze made her feel comfortable.

Lucy’s heart clenched. Without a word, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ona’s forehead. “You should’ve called me,” Lucy said gently, pulling Ona into her arms. “Want me to heat up the pad again?”

Ona melted into her, the warmth of Lucy’s body far better than the heating pad. She rested her head on Lucy’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” Lucy pulled back slightly, giving Ona a serious but gentle look. “You’re never a bother, especially when you’re in pain.” She tucked a strand of hair behind Ona’s ear and smiled softly.

Ona pouted as Lucy tried to reach for the heating pad. “I don’t want the pad anymore.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “But you have it now?”

Ona rolled her eyes. “I’m warm, I’m sweating.” She complained.

Lucy chuckled softly and placed her hand on Ona’s forehead. “You don’t feel—”

Before she could finish, Ona turned away and curled up again, her back to Lucy. Her body shook slightly, and Lucy heard the soft sound of quiet sobs.

“Hey,” Lucy cooed gently, running her hand up and down Ona’s back. “I love you.”

“Don’t touch me,” came a muffled whiny voice from between the pillows.

Lucy’s heart sank a little, but she stopped, her hand resting beside her curled up girlfriend. “I… I’m sorry?”

“No, you’re not,” Ona mumbled.

“I am, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry, I mean,” Ona said, her voice quieter as she turned around, her eyes red from tears. “You’re always sweet to me, and I get why you wouldn’t want to be around me when I’m so… ugly… and grumpy.”

Lucy frowned, shaking her head. “What? Babe, no. I always want to be with you, especially when you feel like this.”

Ona’s lip trembled, and she pouted. “Even if I’m ugly?”

Lucy blinked in disbelief before smiling gently. “Even if—” She stopped, realizing what Ona had said. “You’re not ugly, Ona. Never. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Then why won’t you kiss me or hold me? Normally, you’d have kissed me by now.”

Lucy’s expression softened. “I just… didn’t think you’d want me to.” She paused, seeing the plea in Ona’s eyes. “Can I kiss you now?”

Ona nodded, her eyes watery but hopeful. Lucy leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, lingering for just a moment before wrapping her arms around her tightly.

Lucy pulled back from the kiss, her forehead resting gently against Ona's. "How can we get you comfy, bebê?" she asked softly, brushing her thumb along Ona's cheek.

Ona sighed, her body still curled up against Lucy. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice filled with frustration. “Nothing feels right.”

Lucy kissed her forehead again, her fingers threading through Ona’s hair. “We’ll figure something out,” she murmured. “Maybe a hot shower will help relax your muscles?”

Ona considered it for a moment, her face still flushed and eyes puffy from crying. The thought of warm water against her skin sounded appealing. She nodded slowly. “Okay… but only if you come with me.”

Lucy smiled softly. “Of course I will.” She gently untangled herself from Ona and stood up, offering her hand. Ona hesitated for a second before taking it, letting Lucy pull her to her feet.

As they walked into the bathroom, Lucy turned on the shower, adjusting the water until it was just the right warmth. The steam began to fill the room. Ona stood in the doorway, watching Lucy with tired eyes, but there was a hint of something else in her gaze, she felt needy, she wanted Lucy.

Lucy turned back to Ona and smiled reassuringly. “Come on, love. Let’s get you feeling a bit better.”

They slowly undressed and Lucy helped Ona step into the shower first. The hot water ran down Ona’s back and she let out a soft sigh as the comfortable warmth immediately started to ease some of the tension in her body. Lucy slipped in behind her, wrapping her arms around Ona’s waist and pulling her closer.

For a few moments, they stood together under the stream of water, Lucy holding Ona as the heat worked to soothe her. Ona rested her head against Lucy’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she melted into the embrace. “This feels so much better,” Ona murmured, her voice a little lighter now.

“Good,” Lucy whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

After a while, Ona shifted in Lucy’s arms, turning to face her. Her eyes, though still tired, held a different kind of need now. She reached up, cupping Lucy’s face gently. “Can we…?” she asked quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly, but there was no hesitation in her voice.

Lucy understood immediately, her eyes softening with love and concern. “Are you sure, baby? You’re not in too much pain?”

Ona shook her head. “No, I want you to,” she whispered. “It’ll help… you always help.”

Lucy’s heart swelled at the words, and she pressed a loving kiss to Ona’s lips before nodding. “Okay, love,” she murmured. Her next kiss was deeper, more lingering, as her hands slid down Ona’s waist, fingers gently caressing her skin under the warm spray. Ona responded immediately, her body instinctively leaning into Lucy’s touch, the warmth from Lucy a soothing contrast to the discomfort she’d been feeling all day.

They moved together slowly, water cascading over them, as Lucy’s hands traced the familiar contours of Ona’s body.

Her touches was deliberate, careful, infused with the love and tenderness that defined their relationship. Ona closed her eyes, letting herself melt into Lucy’s embrace.

Lucy’s hands explored Ona’s body with care, her fingers eventually finding their way between Ona’s legs. She paused, hesitating for a brief second, aware of Ona’s period but understanding how much Ona craved this comfort and intimacy. It wasn’t about anything other than making her feel better—Lucy knew this could help ease her pain.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Lucy whispered, her voice gentle with a little concern, her hand stilling as her eyes searched Ona’s face for any sign of hesitation.

Ona’s cheeks flushed slightly, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. She leaned in for another kiss, her lips meeting Lucy’s with quiet urgency, the answer clear in her touch. "I want you," Ona murmured against her lips, her voice steady and sure.

Reassured, Lucy’s fingers moved slowly, gently, her other arm pulling Ona closer to her, holding her steady as the warm water washed over them. She wasn’t thinking about anything other than how Ona responded to her—every soft sound, every shift in her body guiding Lucy’s careful touch.

When Lucy’s fingers finally entered her, Ona whimpered, a sharp breath escaping her as a brief twinge of pain shot through her lower body. She grimaced slightly, her body tensing.

Lucy immediately stilled, her concern flaring. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” she asked softly, her brow furrowing as she searched Ona’s face, her hand already retreating.

Ona shook her head, pouting slightly, her eyes pleading. “No... I want you, please,” she whispered, her voice laced with both desire and need for comfort.

Lucy pressed a kiss to Ona’s forehead, her touch as soft as her words. She gently withdrew her hand, discreetly washing it under the shower as she captured Ona’s attention with another kiss. “I know another way, baby,” Lucy assured her, her voice soothing.

She cupped Ona’s face in her hands, giving her a series of slow, reassuring kisses before she repositioned herself behind her girlfriend.

Wrapping her arms around Ona’s waist, Lucy pressed her lips to the soft skin of her neck, holding her close. She kissed her way along Ona’s damp skin, whispering soft words of love between kisses, letting her presence and touch do the work of easing Ona’s discomfort.

Lucy’s fingers found their way between Ona’s legs again. She swiped along Ona’s core, feeling the slick warmth of her, before her fingers began to circle gently around Ona’s clit. The motion was slow, steady, designed to bring comfort as much as pleasure.

Her other hand, now free, glided upward to cup one of Ona’s breasts, her thumb brushing lightly over the sensitive skin as she pulled Ona closer into her. Lucy’s body pressed against her from behind, their skin warm and slick from the shower, the intimacy of the moment wrapping them both in a sense of calm.

Lucy buried her face in the crook of Ona’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there as she whispered against her damp skin, “You’re okay, love. I’ve got you.”

Ona groaned and gripped Lucy’s forearm as tension in her lower stomach started to build, the work of Lucy’s fingers combined with the sensation of Lucy’s tongue on her neck was just perfect.

It didn’t take long before Ona came undone, the tightness disappearing for a whole other feeling, much lighter. Like her uterus was carried by butterflies inside her. Her head felt light and she heard a buzzing sound in her ears as Lucy helped her through her orgasm.

She turned around in Lucy’s arms and nuzzled her head against her wet chest as Ona felt she now had an upcoming headache.

Lucy kissed the top of Ona’s head, ‘’was it okay?’’.

‘’mhm’’ Ona hummed.

..

After a little while more under the hot water they both rinsed off.

Lucy helped Ona dry herself, gently patting her skin with a towel before slipping her into some of her own clothes—knowing Ona always preferred wearing Lucy's things for comfort.

Once they were both dressed, Lucy pulled Ona into a warm embrace, her arms wrapping securely around her.

“Ready to face the two little monsters again?” Lucy teased with a playful grin.

Ona frowned, momentarily confused by Lucy’s words.

Lucy chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Ona’s temple. “The dogs, babe. You locked them out earlier. But I’m guessing they were bothering you?”

“Oh,” Ona groaned, the memory coming back. She sighed, then chuckled softly, until, without warning, tears began to spill down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through the sudden wave of emotion.

Lucy’s heart clenched as she quickly pulled her closer. “Nooo, don’t be,” she soothed, her voice soft as she kissed the top of Ona’s head. “They can be little devils sometimes. You’re always so good with them. Don’t worry, love.” She scolded herself for making Ona cry.

She gently stroked Ona’s back, trying to offer comfort. “How about I make you something to eat? A nice cup of tea? Maybe get the heating pad again?”

But Ona’s tears didn’t stop. Instead, they fell harder, and Lucy could feel her trembling slightly. Lucy grimaced, unsure of what else to say. “Hey… I’m sorry,” she murmured, realizing her words might have been too much at once.

Ona turned around, burying her face in Lucy’s shoulder. “Headache,” she muttered weakly, offering no further explanation.

But Lucy didn’t need any. She understood that Ona was overwhelmed.

Without a word, Lucy guided her over to the couch, helping her lie down in the soft cushions. When Ona was comfy she draped a blanket over her, tucking it around her to make sure Ona was comfortable.

“I’ll be right back,” Lucy whispered, leaning down to plant another gentle kiss on Ona’s forehead.

[silvermarley]

i know its a tad weird, but... do you think muzan would be ok with period sex? its technically free blood... and reader wont have cramps during it

You’re all good! I mean demon + free blood?? Sorry it’s super late 🙏🏻

Period Sex

Muzan x Reader

Warnings: blood obv, a bit rough?, cunnilingus, fem! body parts, minor degradation, established relationship, unprotected sex

WC: 2.1k

Demons have an unquenchable thirst for blood. They typically don’t care about their human victims, as they’re only a mere blood bank to them. The same is said about the infamous and overwhelmingly powerful king of all demons, Muzan Kibutsuji.

But, he has a unique situation that has taken hold of him for the past few days. You see, he’s not ignorant of the human body, but there’s something he didn’t know about. Mortal women bleed once a month, as their bodies ready themselves for eventual pregnancy.

Muzan’s situation is unique because of his lover. A human woman, one which he couldn’t kill. One that he found himself seeking out, and the person who makes his cold heart(s) beat. It was obvious that since he was a demon, he would seek out any blood he can get. You knew that. So when it was your time of the month, you would make up some excuse to be left alone for the duration of your period. That was your plan every month.

Eventually, the demon king saw the pattern in the times you would ask to be alone. It made his teeth clench just thinking about why that would be. You were a loyal partner, of course, but that fact didn’t come up in his mind when it would start to go over reasons as to why he had to go days, if not a week without you. Who would dare to impose on my relationship, he thought. You were his. He has the right to be with you everyday, so why? Why must you insist on taking.. vacations, as he called it, so often?

For the time away, you would suffer through your period. The cramps, bleeding, and aches.. all of it. Not only were you unsure of what Muzan would do if he knew about this, but you also didn’t want to bother him with your vulnerable and emotional side. In the end, he’s a man-eating demon. It had been long enough for you to understand that he wouldn’t dream of killing you, no matter how angry he felt. But just the thought of him knowing about your period was quite frightening.

Muzan isn’t a very patient man, unfortunately. He wanted to know why you kept leaving and distancing every time. Why you were keeping something from him.

You had your own room, and you didn’t really use it until the time came. You much preferred to spend your nights with him. But in this case, it wasn’t possible.

He knew where you went monthly, considering nothing in the infinity castle gets past him. And now, he was heading there in search for answers. As he got closer to the room, he caught the scent of blood. Your blood?

In a matter of seconds after his keen sense of smell caught that scent, he was sliding open the door to your room. You jumped upon seeing him, not know what to do now that he was here.

“Are you injured?” He asked after a pause. His eyes glowed at the smell, even in the dimly lit space.

His eyes scanned over your form, covered in a blanket and your face, showing many emotions. Confusion, fear, and above all pain. Not pain from any injury, like he was thinking. At your silence, he was about to seethe in anger at who would be brainless enough to lay a hand on you. Until you spoke up.

“No..” your voice was slightly shaky. You had no idea how he would react if you told him about your dilemma.

Heavy footsteps are heard as he walks over to you. “Then?” His arms cross skeptically. “What aren’t you telling me, Y/N?” Muzan’s voice was firm, yet you could tell this was his way of checking on you.

You sigh. This was inevitable. You couldn’t hide this for all eternity, anyways. “I’m not hurt.. I’m on my period.”

His eyebrows furrow curiously. Right.. he likely didn’t know that about you.

“Every month, I..” you calm yourself, only stopping your words to whince at the pain in your stomach. “..bleed. It’s something women go through.”

“Every month..? How come I smell your blood, but i have yet to see it?” He kneels by you to inspect your body. Most of which was still covered.

He wasn’t reacting badly so far, which came as a surprise. Turns out his restraint is much better than you thought. Now, it was just embarrassing to explain it.

“Because I bleed from down there..” you began to mumble, face heating up slightly at how you couldn’t bring yourself to say the actual thing you’re referring to.

His ruby colored eyes glowed once more, this time for a different reason. Before you could protest, he lifted the blanket from your body to see your bloodied lower region. He couldn’t stop the groan leaving his chest as the scent got more prominent. You noticed his grip on the blanket tightened.

“And you thought to hide this from me?” His gaze then returns to your face.

You nod hesitantly. “It’s just.. I didn’t know how you would react. And I didn’t want you to deal with it..”

“Deal with the blood?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you know who I am? What I am?” You felt a cold finger trail from your jaw to your collarbone.

“I-I know.. but the blood isn’t all of it. It also causes stomach cramps and mood swings.” You stutter, yet you felt little to no fear right now due to the look in his eyes. It wasn’t of murderous intent.

His hand trails down further to your stomach and he rests it there. “..Is it hurting now?” He questions, and when you nod again, he inquires more about it. He inhales. “It’s hard to resist the scent of your blood. Especially after hearing where it’s coming from..”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at the comment. You didn’t know where he was going with this.

“I think I know how to assist you with the pain.” This would be a sweet thing to hear, if it weren’t for the sinister smirk on his face.

He begins pushing the blanket completely off your body. After it was successfully moved to the side, he took in the view. He was getting hungrier by the minute. Drool fell from his lips a little at the sight. He needed to taste it. And he wasn’t one to play with his meals.

Muzan pulls down your shorts, tossing it aside to see the mess that is your panties. He groaned again, unable to stop himself from licking a stripe on your clothed core, tasting your sweet blood through the fabric. You gasped, feeling much more sensitive than normal, but also hot due to his boldness.

He rips your sad excuse for underwear and dove right into what he’s been craving ever since he smelled your sweet blood. He’s no stranger to pleasuring you with only his tongue. But god, this felt so good. So different. Like he was trying to devour you whole. Like he’s parched and the only thing that can quench it is the mess between your thighs.

The demon’s tongue moved languidly at first, to savor the taste of both your arousal and the tempting red liquid. But the muscle moved quicker with time, desperately needing to taste all of you. You writhed and grabbed onto the only thing keeping your mind in reality, his wild and now unkempt black locks.

Your needy tugs to his hair only made his movements more determined. The heat in your lower stomach was rising at a rapid pace not even you could keep up with. The area that was previously aching with pain was now flooding with pleasure. Muzan’s nails dug into your upper thighs as he feasted on everything you were giving him. The pain shouldn’t have felt so good, but with the drag of his demonic tongue, god it did.

Your orgasm hit you like a flash, as your arched into his head and stuttered his name loudly. The growl he let out was low and heavy. He licked up your mixed juices while you twitched and shook.

He then lifted himself from you. His pupils were blown wide and his lower face was messy. “Divine, just as I thought.” He murmurs, “Your essence is sweet, and mixed with your blood..” he takes in a breath, and trails off.

You caught your breath, which was knocked out of you for a moment. Before you had time to respond, he’s making his next move. You glanced down as he sat up, noticing his prominent erection in his dress pants. It made you wonder how it would feel inside you now that you were on your cycle. You were sensitive already, but this time it was enhanced surely.

His sharp teeth nearly shined as he grinned darkly at you. “Your blood is irresistible.. and I can’t wait to see such delectable essence on my cock.”

His grin widens a bit more at seeing the you bite your lip with replenished need. You two have been intimate many times before, but this felt like so much more. With this, he could have claim every part of you, in your weakest state. In your most vulnerable time. And that thought alone has been driving him wild since he tasted you.

You barely even noticed when he took off his pants and vest, leaving his formal shirt slightly unbuttoned as he was too desperate to be inside you. Having said that, you also failed to notice when he was now hovering over you and positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he carefully plunged in. There was a mutual groan shared as he pushes in, inch by inch.

The mix of slick and blood made it easier to stuff you full of his cock. When he bottomed out, he couldn’t resist biting your shoulder. You whined from both pain and pleasure, as he laps up more of your sweetness. The taste of it on his tongue caused him to begin thrusting. “Always such a good little human, hm?” He rasps.

You let out a strangled moan at the sheer power of his thrusts in an attempt at a response. Your mind couldn’t even think about the pain in your abdomen with how good he was making you feel. His head pulls back to watch your lewd expressions. It was always his favorite. Just seeing how much of a mess he can make of you gets him going.

Even as such an individual as mighty as Muzan, he still falls into the irresistible pleasure he gets from you. The feelings he once was unfamiliar with, came easily when he met you.

His nails dig into your hips this time as with each thrust he pulls you to him, only increasing how deep he hit. Your whines echoed off the walls of your room, mixing with the slaps of skin. A faint but audible set of groans and grunts can also be heard from the man above you. Only you could drag these uncontrollable noises from the king himself.

The demon threw his head back, gripping under your thighs to bring them to your chest. That served to make him go even deeper than you thought possible. Your body was trembling under him, and the feeling of getting close came creeping up on you. The tightening of your pussy made his noises turn into something more animalistic. “Make a beautiful mess on my cock. I know you want to.” He coos breathily, his alluring eyes staring at your face.

And you were more than happy to follow as he said. Body twitching and ecstasy taking over, you came hard. Your mind was effectively taken over by the intensity of it all. A deep growl came out of his mouth as you convulsed and nearly milked him for all he’s worth. He felt close, and quicker than normal. The circumstances played a big part in speeding up his gratification in indulging in you.

You could barely keep your eyes open as he relentlessly thrusted, overstimulation making you shake pathetically. He reveled in your form and the sensation. After a few more harsh thrusts, he gives a final one that fills you with his cum. “That’s it,” he moans huskily, “Take it all..”

When he spilled all he could into you, he pulled out and let his dick lay on your stomach. He looked down at the fluids connecting it to your messy cunt. A sight he could get used to.

Though, he’s no weak man by any means. It wasn’t long before his stamina allowed him to become hard again. A desire-filled smirk was plastered on his face. “You should know that I am far from done.”

As his lover, you definitely knew that. But as a human, you weren’t sure how far he would take it this time. The king wasn’t going to give you time to think about that, however.

——

[bronzeyslcve]

Let Me Take Care Of You: Lucy Bronze

Paring: Lucy Bronze x Fem Reader

Theme: smut/fluff

Summary: you’re on your period and just need a little help to take away the pain of your cramps and Lucy offers to do that it a new way…

Warnings: smut, period sex, minors dni, soft dom lucy, sub reader, fingering, oral sex, strap-on use, praise, use of pet names, use of y/n, aftercare, lucy being gentle <3

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

It was that time of the month. You hated it. Throughly despised it. You hated the backaches, the headaches, the bloating, painful boobs and the cramps. The cramps were the worst part. Some days you couldn’t even move due to how awful they were. And that’s the current predicament you find yourself in. Curled up in bed, hot water bottle resting on your abdomen, waiting for Lucy to get home after training so you can cuddle up to her, she should be home soon.

It felt like hours until you heard the front door to your apartment unlock and you couldn’t be happier. Normally, you would get up and go greet her but today you don’t and instantly she knows somethings up, that’s confirmed when she walks into your bedroom.

“Oh love,” she sighs as she sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, her hand rubbing your back. “You on your period baby?”

You nod softly, loving the feeling of her hand on your back. It feels so warm. So perfect. “Yeah, it hurts really bad Luce.”

Lucy gently presses her lips to your forehead, giving you a small kiss as her hand continues to rub up and down your back, trying to soothe you as much as she can.

“I know sweetheart, I know it does. You taken any pain meds to help?” she asks, voice full of concern.

“Yeah, took some paracetamol a couple of hours ago. It’s not helped,” you whine as you move from your curled up position and into Lucy’s arms.

Lucy smiles and holds you against her, her chin gently resting on your head as she thinks of ways to help you, one comes to her mind, she’d read about it in an article online recently but she wasn’t sure if you’d go for it. She knew that she would if she was in your position, but she completely understands if you wouldn’t.

“Oh my poor baby. Look I might know something that could help, I read about it online,”

“Really? What’s that Luce?”

You pull your head off of her chest to look at her properly, her hair is slightly wet from her post training session shower, her nose has a slightly red tinge to it due to the cold weather and she’s looking at you with so much love and concern that look makes your heart melt.

“Well I read that experiencing an orgasm, can help to take your pretty little mind off of those awful cramps. Now you don’t have to say yes but it’s an idea.”

Naturally, your eyebrows raise at her suggestion. You’ve heard about how period sex could potentially help with cramps but you never believed it, so therefore never gave it a second thought. Yet now Lucy’s saying it, you can’t help but feel intrigued. If she’s willing to do it and it really is going to help, then why not?

“You’d really do that? For me?” you ask, your voice in more of a whisper which makes her laugh a little bit.

“Course pretty girl. I’ll do anything for you. Just lie back and let me take care of you.”

You nod at her words which causes her to smile and then she ever so gently presses her lips to yours, kissing you as softly and as lovingly as possible.

She gets you laid down under her on the bed, her lips still pressed against yours, tongue ever so gently swiping over them. Hands prying at the hot water bottle resting under your top, tossing it somewhere in the room.

A soft moan slips from your mouth and into hers, letting your tongues intertwine, Lucy obviously having control. As the pair of you continue to make out, you feel something else alongside the pain bubble in your gut. Arousal.

Lucy breaks the kiss to press hot open-mouthed kisses to the skin of your neck as her hands work on pulling up your top, still being oh so gentle with you, acting as if you could break at any given second.

“Can I take this off pretty girl?” she asks as she pushes your top up even more, teeth gently nipping at your earlobe.

“Mhm, take it off Luce.”

That’s all she needed to hear. She gently pecks your lips before slowly lifting your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. Her eyes rake over your exposed top half and just like always, her mouth practically waters.

“You’re so beautiful darling, so so pretty,” she hums as she gently kisses over your boobs, her eyes on yours the entire time, checking for any discomfort as she full well knows they can be painful when you’re on your period.

“You really know how to make me blush, don’t you?” you ask as due to her compliment your cheeks to go a touch pink. Once her lips start kissing your boobs you let out a soft whimper.

“I do pretty girl, I do. That feel good, not hurting?”

You shake your head. “No Luce, feels so good.”

The defender lets out a hum of approval before ever so gently swirling her tongue around your left nipple, her fingers gently tugging at your right, causing you to moan softly.

The pain is still there, you can feel it tingling at your insides, mixing with arousal but what your girlfriend is doing is a good distraction from said pain.

Lucy switches up her actions, now swirling her tongue around your right nipple, gently tugging at your left one as her other hand sneaks underneath the joggers that you are wearing. Just resting on your hip.

After a few minutes, she pulls away and sits on her heels in between your legs, looking at you with the most loving expression on her face.

“Do you want me to get a towel, love?”

“Please, don’t wanna get the sheets all messy.”

A small, soft laugh slips from her throat but she nods in agreement, understanding completely. Reluctantly, she gets off of the bed and goes into the en suite to grab a couple of fluffy towels.

Whilst waiting for her to come back, you play with the drawstrings on your joggers, trying to keep your mind off of the pain.

After a minute or so she returns with two towels in her hand and that same loving expression of her face. “Hips up for me pretty girl, need to make sure these are all secure under you.”

Obviously, you oblige. It hurts just a touch, a soft groan slipping past your lips as you buck up your hips, allowing your lover to slip the towels underneath you.

“There we go, good girl. Can I take your joggers off sweetheart?” Lucy questions, her lips pressing gentle kisses over your stomach which make your heart flutter.

“Yeah, yeah you can take them off,” you exclaim as you lower your hips back down, bitting back a moan as she calls you a ‘good girl.’

“Alright pretty girl, just relax for me,” she smiles as she ever so gently tugs them down, folding them neatly and then sitting them on the bedside table.

You watch her fold up them up with a smile on your face, once she’s done, you reach out to tug at the hem of her shirt. The brunette chuckles and gets your message quickly, she pulls her training shirt off and then her sports bra quickly follows, them being tossed somewhere in your bedroom.

“There. That what you wanted pretty girl?”

“Mhm, you’re so gorgeous,” you rasp as you reach out to run your hands over her abs as her lips find your neck and she starts sucking and kissing, leaving her marks as gently as humanly possible.

“I love you so much baby, you’re so perfect,” your lover muttered against your neck as her hand ever so gently cups your core over your underwear.

“Luce,” you whine, needing her, getting incredibly desperate for her. Desperate for her to take the pain of your cramps away. “I love you too,” you add softly.

Lucy immediately catches on to what you want and as she continues to gently mark your neck, her fingers start to gently play with the waistband of your knickers.

“Take them off, please.”

That’s immediately what she does. Once they’re off, she throws them in the direction of the laundry basket and when her heads turned for the briefest second, the reality of the situation kicks in and you snap your legs shut. Embarrassment clouding your body.

When Lucy realises what you’ve done, a small ‘tut’ leaves her lips, her hands gently tugging your legs apart once more.

“No, we’re not having any of that pretty girl. You’re absolutely gorgeous, period or no period. I love you, okay. I just want to take care of my girl.”

Her words make your heart melt in your chest, and due to your hormones being all shot a couple of small tears trickle down your face.

“What on earth did I do to deserve you, Luce?”

Lucy’s heart softens as she leans up to peck your forehead, the tip of your nose and then your lips, a soft smile on her face.

“You just existed, pretty girl.”

At that, you cry even more. They’re happy tears though. Momentarily, the pain in your abdomen is forgotten as you just focus on her. On the woman you love with all of your heart.

“I love you so much,”

“And I love you more. Please, let me take care of you now, yeah?”

You just nod softly as you feel her cup your cheeks, thumbs gently wiping away your tears before once more her lips find yours.

The defender kisses you for a few seconds, then trails her kisses lower, down your throat, your chest, your stomach, then your thighs. She gently sucks more marks into the flesh of your inner thighs, just inches from where you so desperately need her, but you let her do what she’s got to do.

“So good for me pretty girl. Need you to relax for me, need to take your tampon out. Or do you want to do it?” she asks softly, voice containing absolutely no judgement and you know she’ll be more than happy to do it for you.

After a few seconds of considering it, you decide you’ll just let her do it, she doesn’t mind after all.

“If you don’t mind Luce, you can do it.”

She nods and smiles as she ever so gently pulls it out, not looking at it before getting it up to go flush it. When she’s back, her lips immediately are back on your inner thighs, continuing to gently mark them: which causes soft whimpers to leave your throat.

“Making such pretty noises for me, my good girl,” your lover mumbles against your flesh as her lips trail from your inner thigh to your core.

That causes you to panic ever so slightly and so you gently grab at her hair to get her attention.

“Y/n what’s wrong? Does it hurt?” she asks, getting worried she hurt you, hence her using your first name, an indication she wants to to be completely honest with her.

“No Luce. No, don’t worry, you haven’t hurt me. It’s just, do you y’know, really wanna use your mouth? Don’t you find it grim?” you questioned a bit sheepishly and that makes Lucy let out a soft laugh and shake her head.

“No my love, I don’t. I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise would I, hm?”

“I suppose not.”

“Exactly pretty girl, just chill out for me. I promise you, I want to do this.”

When you visibly relax, she pecks your lips once more before her head dips back in between your thighs, lips pressing gentle kisses over your soaked pussy.

“Feels so good Luce,” you whimper as one hand tangles into your girlfriends hair. Your mind relaxing and forgetting that you’re on your period as the small amount of pleasure that you are receiving, starts to slowly heal the pain in your abdomen.

Your whimpers turn into moans when her lips wrap around your clit and she sucks softly, a finger gently swiping through your folds to tease at your entrance.

“Fuck…please,” you manage to get out in a moan as your hand softly tugs on her hair, the other one gripping onto the duvet.

As a reward, you feel one of Lucy’s fingers slip into your cunt, pumping in and out ever so gently, her being careful not to accidentally hurt you.

Your head finds itself being thrown back in pleasure from her actions, the pain continuing to ebb away albeit slowly but surely.

“Does that feel good pretty girl?” she husks as she pulls her mouth away for just a second, her finger still going, a red hue now adorning the lower part of her face.

“Mhm, s-so…good,” you pant as your eyes close, unable to stay open as her finger picks up the pace ever so slightly.

“Good girl, doing so well for me.”

Your lovers lips go back to sucking your clit, perfectly, whilst she teases another finger around your entrance. That causes your hips to buck up against her, making her smile against you and sink the second finger into you.

A moan of her name slips past your lips as you feel two of her fingers stretching you, now curling upwards, gently rubbing at your g-spot with every thrust. Lucy isn’t fast, nor is she rough. She is slow, passionate and gentle. Everything you currently need and you feel yourself getting oh so close to that edge, the pain of your cramps, practically non existent.

“Oh god, I’m close Luce, so close,” you whine, face contorting up in pleasure, hand tugging a little harsher at her hair - something to ground yourself with, clit spasming in her mouth, thighs shaking softly.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” she mumbles against your core before her lips go back to sucking your clit, fingers picking up their pace a tad, trying to push you over.

With a cry of her name, you come undone over her fingers, the pain, the pain now completely non existent. The pleasure having over come it. That article Lucy read was right after all.

“You’re amazing baby, so pretty when you come for me,” the right back rasps as she pulls her mouth away from you with a small kiss to your clit, her fingers working you down from your high. Once you’re back on earth and your eyes are open, she gently pulls them out and sucks her fingers clean, making sure you are watching her do it.

“Luce…you don’t have to,” you remark and she shakes her head. Signalling to you that it’s okay. That she wants to do it.

You just smile as you watch her, your hands once again reaching out to run along her abs, your mind still reeling from the incredible pleasure your girlfriend had given you.

“You taste so good pretty girl,” she hums after releasing her fingers with a wet pop, her lips then pressing against yours softly before she adds: “Do you think you can take one more? Can I use my strap sweetheart?”

Her words stir up primal desire in you once more and you nod as your fingers continue to just run along her abs gently. “Mhm, give me a just give me a moment.”

“Of course pretty girl, of course. I’ll get myself all sorted whilst you recover from round one,” she states with a cheeky smirk which has you letting out a soft laugh.

Your eyes are glued to her as she gets herself up to quickly wash her face in the bathroom, she doesn’t mind having your blood on her. It’s just another bodily fluid, it’s doing no harm, but she gets that you’ll probably be uncomfortable after a while. When she comes out of the bathroom, she takes off her shorts and soaking boxers. Lucy then grabs her harness from one of the nightstand drawers and after it’s secure, she grabs your favourite dildo and slots it into the front of the harness.

“Look at you, so beautiful and all mine,” she purrs as she nestles herself in between your thighs once more. Lips pressing gentle kisses all over your body, before her mouth ends up at your chest again, lips wrapping around and sucking softly at one of your nipples, fingers gently tugging the other.

“All yours, always,” you assure her through a moan, even though she knew that anyways. You’ve always been hers.

She smiles around your breast as she continues to suck at your nipple, fingers still playing with the other one as her other hand now just sits sprawled out over your abdomen.

It seems like hours go by until she releases your nipple and then turns her sucking to the other one, her fingers now tweaking the one that had just been in her warm mouth.

“Shit Luce, just like that,” you sigh in content as your fingers gently scratch down her back soothingly, knowing it’s something that she loves.

“And that, pretty girl, that feels amazing,” Lucy rasps as she pulls her mouth off of your chest and then once again, her lips find yours, kissing you gently.

A small chuckle slips from your throat at her admission, you knew she loved it when you scratched her back. Especially when she’s being rough with you. But tonight’s not the night for that. No, tonight you’ve got gentle Lucy. Your favourite version of your girlfriend.

“I love you Luce,” you exclaim as she rests her forehead against yours. One of her hands staying sprawled out on your abdomen, the other coming to grip the base of her strap to move it through your folds and coat it with your arousal, which makes you whimper softly.

“I love you more Y/n. You ready?”

Initially, you respond with a small nod and by wrapping your legs around her waist gently. Lucy however shakes her head, that same loving, soft smile on her lips.

“Words, pretty girl. Use your words,”

“I’m ready Luce, please,” you beg, even though you didn’t need to. You were always getting what you wanted tonight.

Once more, she presses her lips against yours as she ever so slowly, ever so gently, sinks her strap into your tight cunt. As she watches how it swallows the toy, she swears she can just come from the sight alone.

“That feel okay pretty girl, not hurting?” she asks, voice laced with concern as she bottoms out inside of you.

Usually, you could take her strap with ease, no problems. But today, you felt like you needed a breather once she was fully inside, due to just how sensitive you are. “A little, but it’s okay. Just give me a minute, then you can move.”

Lucy nods, understanding completely. She’s willing to wait as long as you want, as long as you need. She just wants to make you feel comfortable, loved and cared for. So, whilst waiting, she just presses her lips anywhere, leaving a trails of gentle kisses all over your body.

“That tickles,” you hum through a small giggle as you feel her press a kiss under your chin and she softly laughs at your reaction.

“Does it? I forgot you were ticklish under there baby,” she reply’s with a grin tugged onto her lips.

“Mhm, a little yeah. If you want, you can move now, I feel okay,”

“You a thousand percent sure, pretty girl? I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Luce, you could never hurt me. And yes, I’m sure, I’m okay.”

Lucy visibly relaxes at your reassurances and as she ever so gently starts to thrust in and out, her lips meet yours, kissing you lovingly: her mouth swallowing your moans.

Your hands start to gently scratch up and down her back again, her lips reluctantly leaving yours, due to the need for air. Once more, she rests her forehead against your forehead.

As she continuously thrusts into you, the base of the toy hits her clit, causing her to groan softly, even though her full attention is on your pleasure, not her own.

“That feel good pretty girl? Be honest with me,” the defender questions, needing to be constantly reassured that you are in fact enjoying what she’s doing.

“Luce, s-stop worrying. I’m fine. It feels s-so good,” you manage to get out in between moans and whimpers - your nails still gently scratching her back.

“I’m never going to stop worrying, my love. That also feels incredible,” she purrs, absolutely loving the feeling of your nails raking over her back.

Soft moans of her name slip past your lips as your head throws back and eyes squeeze shut, Lucy building you perfectly up to the edge, you’re still not there yet, but in a couple of minutes, you’d more than likely be shooting over it.

Your girlfriend continues with her gentle thrusts, the toy hitting that special spot every single time. She picks up the pace just a touch, however it’s still very, very slow, which you find to be perfect.

“You getting close yet pretty girl?”

“Y-yeah, getting so…so close Luce,” you pant between moans, your face now twisted up into sheer bliss.

“Good girl. Come when you’re ready baby.”

Your nails are now gently digging into her shoulders, holding onto her for dear life as you feel probably one of the most intense orgasms, you’d ever experienced start to slowly unravel.

As you come, her name leaves your lips in a silent scream and you swear that you can see stars behind your eyelids. Watching you come, shoots Lucy over the edge too, a rather loud groan slipping from her throat as she does so.

You remain out of it for quite a few minutes. You don’t notice Lucy ever so gently pull out, you don’t notice how she takes off the toy, wipes it down and then puts it back in the drawer. You also don’t notice how she disappears into the en suite for a few seconds to start running you a bath.

Finally, you notice her once more when she comes and lays down next to you, pulling you into her arms for a few moments.

“Hey pretty girl, you back yet?” she asks softly before pecking your forehead, proud of herself for giving you an orgasm so intense. Lucy knew for certain that the pain from your cramps is long gone and would be for a while.

“Think so, I love you,” you mutter as you snuggle into her, that causes her to let out a gentle laugh.

“I love you too y/n. C’mon, let’s get you in the bath,”

“Only if you join me, Luce,”

“Of course pretty girl, of course.”

Your girlfriend gets out of bed and then gently lifts you up and carries you into the bathroom. She flicks the taps off and then lowers you into the bath tub, which causes a soft groan to slip from your lips at the warmth from the water relaxing your body.

“That good baby? I’ll be back in a sec, just gonna get those towels in the laundry basket and light that candle you like,”

“Okay Luce, don’t be long.”

The right back gently pecks your lips before disappearing into the bedroom, quickly grabbing the towels that are laid out on the bed, throwing them into the laundry basket, knowing they’ll be washed tomorrow morning. Then, she grabs the lighter and lights your favourite candle that sits on the dressing table before wandering back into the bathroom.

A soft smile tugs on her lips at the sight of you just relaxing yourself in the bath and she slowly slips in behind you, gently pulling you against her, holding you tightly.

“You feeling better my love? No more cramps?” Lucy questions as she presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

“No, they’re all gone. Thank you, I love you so much Luce,”

“I love you more, let’s get you all cleaned up so I can give you cuddles.”

It takes a while for Lucy to ever so gently get you all clean, not that you mind of course. Her gentle touches are like heaven as are the small kisses she presses against your skin every so often. Once you were finally done in the bath, she wrapped you up in a towel and then sat you on the counter.

“There, all nice and clean. Let me go grab you some pyjamas, sweetheart,” she insists, leaving no room for argument. She will go and get your pyjamas and she will change you into them.

“Hm, fine. Can I wear one of your old jerseys? Pretty please,” you ask with a small whine, lips in a pout, pulling your puppy dog eyes and Lucy melts at your expression.

“You didn’t even need to ask pretty girl, of course,” she hums before her lips peck yours before she disappears into the bedroom, wearing nothing but her towel.

As you wait, you gently drum your fingers on your knee, feeling water droplets from your hair, trickle down your back.

When Lucy reappears, her wet hair is tied up into a bun and she’s now dressed in a pair of boxers and one of her sports bras. She has the clothes she’s picked out for you under her arm. One of her old England jerseys, a pair of knickers and a pair of shorts. She sets them down on the counter next to you, before opening one of the bathroom cabinets and then she sets a tampon down on top of your clothes.

“Let’s get you all dried and dressed, then we’re getting into bed and not moving for a week, yeah?”

That causes you to let out a small laugh as you shake your head in disbelief. “Luce, what about training and your match this weekend?”

“Hm, fuck it. I’m gonna be looking after my pretty girl all week.”

You know she’s joking, but you know that if you asked her she would say yes. That thought has done and always will warm your heart, even if you don’t act on it. Lucy would do absolutely anything for you and obviously, you’d do anything for her.

It takes a hot minute to get you all sorted for bed, but once you are, your girlfriend gently scoops you up into her arms again, as if you are the most precious thing on the planet and then sets you down in bed. You have your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat as you snuggle into her, with absolutely no protest.

“Need anything pretty girl? You okay?” she asks softly as her lips press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“No, this is perfect,” you mutter sleepily as you match your breathing to the beating of her heartbeat which is slowly luring you to sleep.

“I’m glad baby. Is it hurting again?” she questions, for her own piece of mind, wanting to make sure that your cramps aren’t back and that her earlier actions have kept them at bay for a while.

“No, not hurting.”

Lucy lets out a little laugh, you sounded so sleepy, so groggy, to her it was adorable. She holds you even tighter against her as she notices you just fall asleep against her, her lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, one hand gently playing with your hair.

“Sleep well, pretty girl. I love you.”