#welcome home toy props

[randomhuman6069]

The polly pocket isn't mine but I got inspired to make a similar structured one after figuring out how it works.

I was originally thinking of welcome home themed polly pockets and was gonna make a simple one but then I found about about this cool school house one and changed the desighn, it's so cute and I might use the same concept for fluttershys cottage house some day.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

pop that cherry

a/n: woop woop! here's the little slutty story that you guys voted for when i asked what you wanted to see happen next in this au ৎ୭

summary: “hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

warnings: camgirl!reader x various, pornstar!ari levinson, roommate!bucky barnes, porn director!bruce banner, smut, porn au, college au, reader’s porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), filming pornography, reader's first time doing professional porn, kissing, masturbation, toys, oral, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink (pornstar!ari is famous for his monster cock, you're welcome), belly bulge, manhandling, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, facial

word count: 3832

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sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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Curled up and melted on your mattress, you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your puffy pussy, hidden between your still trembling thighs, clenched in dull soreness from the fuck machine frozen by your feet and still glistening from the show you’d put on only moments earlier. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” a familiar voice emanated from your doorway, “I didn’t know you were done streaming.”

Lazily blinking up at Bucky as he leaned against the frame, “yeah, just signed off a few minutes ago,” you exhaled, “did you just get home?” the question flowed from your lips and he swiftly nodded in confirmation, “how was class?” 

“Oh my god, don’t get me started,” your roommate let out a groan and pushed himself off the wall, his stride swiftly carrying him the short distance to where you laid and plopped himself down beside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you felt him press a slow peck to your exposed shoulder. 

“Do you need help lifting the toy back in the closet or–,” Bucky’s kind offer was then cut short by the shuttering gasp that suddenly crawled out of your lungs. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you stared down at the message you’d opened on your phone, “oh my god!”

“What? What is it?” he propped himself up on a forearm to peek over your shoulder. 

“I–…” your eyes scanned the email wildly, “this can’t be real, right?” you cast a glance back at your friend. 

“Let me have a look,” and you swiftly handed him your phone before hearing him skim through it, “dear miss Cherry Blossom, bla, bla, bla… we here at Smash Studios really love your vibe and were wondering if you would ever consider doing professional pornography, because if so, then we would love to work with you,” his blue eyes flickered a moment longer over the screen before they fluttered up to meet yours, “no, I think it’s legit.”

“Holy shit…” you breathed, an airy giggle then bubbled out of you as this was quite the news to take in, even when one wasn’t still hazy from haven fucked one silly in front of hundreds of people. 

“You think you wanna do it?”

“Beautiful, gorgeous! And look right here, up there, yeah, that’s it…” 

Sharp clicks shuttered the camera and shot throughout the massive house as a photographer snapped the last of the stills for the shoot. You were posed perched and kneeling on a bed with your right hand buried in the already tiny crop top, you’d brought as one of the outfit options, and held up high to reveal your tits. 

The groan of floorboards creaking then found your ears and your gaze swiftly fluttered towards the door where the salt-and-pepper-haired man, who you’d come to learn was the head of the little porn studio, crossed over the threshold. 

“How are we doing in here?” Bruce adjusted his glasses before stepping further into the room. 

“I think we’re about done,” the photographer lowered the camera from his eye and cast a glance to his boss, “think we got the shot.”

“Great,” Bruce clapped his shoulder as the other man passed by and exited the room. As you tugged the short t-shirt back down into place, you met Bruce’s gaze before he asked you, “how are you doing? You ready?”

Though your mind was way too preoccupied to offer him an answer and instead blurted, “has he arrived?” as you scooted off the bed and felt the tiny shorts you wore ride up enough for your grasp to float down to adjust. 

“Not yet, I’m sorry,” he tilted his head, “trust me when I say that he isn’t usually this late. He wouldn’t have the stellar reputation he does if he was. But we can still begin without him and just fix it in post if you’re–”

Someone then poked their head and announced, “hey Banner? He’s here. I just spotted his bike roll up the driveway.”

Feeling your heart thump in your chest, you heard Bruce clap his palms together, “great!” before you followed him out of the bedroom and through the pristine halls of the rented modern mansion. 

Just before your bare feet began to conquer the long staircase, your absentminded grip tightened on the glass railing as you looked down at the open living room, clearly visible from the wide balcony, and spotted the figure that then sauntered in. 

“So sorry I’m late, traffic was literal hell.”

Ari Levinson. 

With sun-kissed brunette locks flowing from his head and a motorcycle helmet nuzzled under his burly arm, the infamous pornstar was not only blessed with a smile that could make anyone swoon, but also a dick so huge that any sane person would be downright terrified by the idea of having it split them apart. 

Though that wasn’t what had stopped you in your tracks, what had made your palms embarrassingly clammy when he soon shook one of them once you’d somehow made your way down the stairs. 

Why did your very first partner have to be someone you’d obsessively been getting off to for years? 

You were barely listening to what the people around you were saying as you couldn’t rip yourself out of the trance you’d snapped into. 

“I’m sorry, what?” you soon blinked, trying to avert your gaze. 

“I asked if you were ready,” Bruce patiently repeated. 

“…for?” you breathed, feeling as if you were inside of a giant ethereal cheese bell, making the entire world around you seem blurry. 

“For the shoot,” Bruce’s words still flew straight over your head, “I said that I was thinking that I’d do the filming myself, if that could make you more comfortable since you’ve already met me. That way it’ll just be me, the two of you and then Sam in the corner doing audio.”

“O-okay…” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Ari let his gaze linger over you, an observant brow soon twitching as he spoke up. 

“Wait, actually,” he placed a palm on Bruce’s forearm, halting him as he reached for the bulky camera resting on the white couch, “do you mind if I grab a quick smoke break first?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, “let’s just all take five before we begin.”

It caught you completely off guard when the object of your distraction walked by you and paused to murmur in your ear, “come with me outside for a second, will you?”

Shadowing him all the way out of the tall glass door and onto the terrace, you watched him lean his frame against the fence and tilt his body for you to slot in beside him. 

“I don’t actually smoke,” you uttered softly as you let your fingers ghost over the railing. 

“Oh, neither do I–, or well, that’s not completely true, I do, just didn’t need one right now.” 

“So then why did you ask for a smoke break?” you cocked a brow. 

Blowing out a swift breath, Ari then twisted to face you more and gazed directly down at you. 

“You mind if I hold your hand?” he held out his own palm.

“Oh, uhm,” your glance flickered down to his upturned hand before you carefully placed your own atop of it, “okay.”

His warm fingers swiftly engulfed your own as his stare stayed fast upon you.

“So, this is your first time, huh?”

“Oh, no, I'm not a virgin, I–” 

“I meant porn, sweetheart,” he tilted his head to be more at your level. 

“Right,” you averted your gaze as butterflies soared in your stomach, “yeah, I haven’t really done this before… I mean, I’ve some stuff, I’ve cammed for a pretty long time now and even recorded custom videos for some people, but no, I haven’t really taken this step before…” 

You were staring down at his large hand engulfing yours as he then said, “you know, it’s okay if you don’t wanna go through with it. This field isn’t for everyone, in fact, only very few thrive in this environment, and if it’s not for you, then it’s okay.”

“Oh, no,” your eyes flickered up to find his as you urged, “I wanna do this, I really do. I’m sorry, I guess I just kinda got a bit more nervous than I expected.” 

“Hey, I get it,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “I’m a complete stranger. You just shook my hand two seconds ago and now we’re expected to bang in front of a bunch of other people you also don’t know,” his broad thumb swept over your knuckles, “you just have to decide if you wanna pack up your things, go home and chalk this up to just a fun experience, a lesson learned about what corners your sexuality and such does and does not stretch to,” he uttered with sincerity, “or you can come back inside and we can make some magic happen. It’s up to you.” 

“So, Cherry,” Bruce purred behind the camera as he knelt on the floor beside where you sat at the foot of the bed, “I can’t believe we finally convinced you to come have some fun with us. I gotta tell you, you are just a fucking dream come true…”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled, kicking your feet slightly as they dangled over the edge. 

“But you must get that all the time, I mean, look at you.”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” you chuckled, thinking back to all of the lewd compliments the viewers of your streams generously tossed at you. 

“So, a little birdy told me that this is your very first time fucking on camera. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’m so ready to pop that cherry.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” he smirked, panning the bulky camera over your frame as you tilted your head in a nod, “you’re just ready to show the whole world what a perfect slut you are?”

“Think it’s about time,” you giggled in response. 

“Well, then why don’t you do something for me and stand up?” he shifted back a bit as you got up from the bed, “and now, I’ve already seen it, but can you please turn around and show everyone how fucking perfect your ass is?” a grin stayed fast on your face as you slowly spun around. Your butt was barely covered in the tiny shorts that clung around your hips, so when you twisted and let the camera catch that part of you, Bruce quietly groaned, “wow…” and he shifted his grip to let one of his hands float up towards you, “can I touch you?” 

“Sure,” you arched your back a bit to make his palm’s journey that much shorter. 

“Damn… this has got to be one of the greatest booties I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he offered your softness a brief squeeze. His fingers first dented one cheek, then the next, before his grip caught your waistband and tugged your shorts up just a tad bit more, making the fabric momentarily rub against your covered pussy.

His flat palm then scooped around your hips and guided you back to face the camera.

“Do you wanna see my boobs?” you smiled as you blinked down at him with big doe eyes, your hands gently grazing over the hem of your crop top.

“Oh, yes, please,” he virtually begged as he let his warm palm stay glued to your waist. 

Peeking down, you slowly lifted the shirt up and let your tits quite literally spill out as they jiggled slightly from the release of how fiercely you let the cotton graze over your skin. 

“Jesus christ…” you heard him utter as your palms fluttered down to play with them, squeezing the soft peaks gently before Bruce’s fingers sneaked up to pinch one of your nipples.

Once you’d put on a show and pushed the tiny shorts down your legs, the crotch of which had been slightly soaked since you weren’t wearing any panties underneath, you rested back down on the bed and spread your legs wide for the camera, grinning as the older man asked you to play with yourself. 

“Oh my god… I gotta tell you, I am so hard right now,” you watched how intently he stared at the small monitor, getting a closeup of how your fingers rubbed your little clit, “you have no idea how tough it is not to just fuck you right now, it’s crazy…”

“Oh yeah?” you giggled, the melody of your want echoing throughout the room at every teasing touch you offered yourself, “how bad do you wanna fuck me?”

“So fucking bad…” he uttered in a nearly hypnotise tone. 

Continuing to circle your puffy pearl, your fingers briefly dipped down to tease your entrance, only shyly slipping inside before you swept back up. 

“You know what?” Bruce said as he then began to twist a bit to get the open door to the room into frame, “I have a little surprise for you,” and perfectly on queue, Ari appeared at the threshold, burly chest on show with just a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. 

His stride was slow as he only stayed in the doorway a moment before sauntering over to where you sat, melted back and resting against the one forearm that propped you up. 

“Hey,” he smiled and plucked up your face as soon as it was within reach. 

“Hi,” you managed to utter just before he bent down and pressed his lips to yours in an unhurried and gentle kiss. 

He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, like some dude wasn’t pressing a bulky camera closer to the intimate act, but like he was the lead in a PG romcom. 

When Ari withdrew, he let himself linger in your warmth, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose against your own as your fingers kept up the dizzying pattern you drew between your parted thighs. Tilting his head, his touch traced the length of your arm till his reach came down to aid your efforts, making you gasp from the way he caressed you. 

“You,” he nudged his nose gently against your own, “look like you’re in need of some cock in that little mouth of yours.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “you read my mind,” before popping the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. Even though you’d seen his famed cock numerous times on screen before, it truly was something else to witness it in person. A breathy, “holy shit,” left your lips as you tried to wrap your fingers around his girth, though he only let out a soft laugh at the way your eyes grew wide. 

Ceasing the caress he drew between your thighs, he instead grabbed the base of his heavy length with his fingers still glossy from your arousal. As you stuck out your flat tongue, he tapped the weight against you for a second before you tilted your chin and wrapped your lips around the bulbous head.  

As you disappeared into the meditative motion of slobbering all over his cock, gradually taking more and more of his intimidating length, your frame twisted to lay on your side and face him more. 

Blinking up into his hooded eyes as the corners of your lips burned from the severe stretch, you felt his hips begin to move, rolling to meet your every bob, till his fingers tangled in your hair and he got to take over completely, fucking your face till slobber dribbled down your chest and rained down on your crop top, still tugged up and framing your tits. 

His free hand then snaked its way back down your body and cracked your legs open wide for the camera to see as he plugged your pussy up with two of his fingers, making you moan around his girth as the tip of him bruised your throat. 

When he yanked your mouth off of his cock, he did so with a gravelly growl, like he could have lived in your silky warmth and it pained him to say goodbye so soon. 

“Come here,” he grabbed you and flipped you around for your frame to face him as his feet stayed planted on the side of the bed. Kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, you panted up at him as you scooted even closer, nearly letting your butt hang off the mattress’ edge as you laid already crumbled and folded before him, utterly bewitched by the anticipation of what his legendary size must feel like stretching your poor pussy out. 

Shimmery spiderwebs of your nectar clung to him as he then let you feel the weight of him tap against your puffy pearl, briefly skimming through your folds before he found your eyes and tipped down, nudging to catch your weeping entrance. 

“Oh my g-god…” you gasped, all of the air escaping your body to accommodate as he slowly pressed just the tip inside. Your cunt clung around his dick as he gave you a second to catch your breath. Your pulse throbbed in your pussy as your silky walls moulded around him and your thighs gently trembled from the intensity of it all. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he gave you another inch, “you feel so good,” gently stuffing more of his length inside. 

His grip dented your trembling thighs as he held you open for the camera to see how you struggled to take his cock. Even when the tip of him kissed your cervix and made you feel as if he was all the way up in your fucking throat, when you hazily gazed down to see where he split you apart, there was still a generous inch of him that your little pussy just couldn’t take. 

As your eyes lingered a little longer, you too caught sight of how a dull bulge formed in the lower part of your belly, perfectly timed with each of his mind-numbing thrusts. 

When you then tumbled over the edge, nearly blind from the overwhelming pleasure, your pussy couldn’t help but accidentally gush around Ari’s girth, simply because of how mind-boggling he felt. 

“Oh, shit,” you panted. Still in your orgasmic daze, you swiftly cast a worried glance up at Bruce steady behind the camera, “I’m sorry,” you briefly broke the scene as Ari too paused his movements as you breathlessly spoke, “I really tried not to squirt, I know that wasn’t part of today’s plan, but–, fuck…” your eyes fluttered up to find Ari’s, “your dick’s just so goddamn big,” you hazily giggled. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Bruce’s voice washed over you as you watched a smile tug at Ari’s lips, “that was just an unplanned bonus.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” your neck twisted to cast a glance at the director. 

“No,” he swiftly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile to calm the obvious anxiety that had bubbled up inside of you. 

“Oh, good,” you let out a sigh, “sorry, I just got nervous for a second. Okay, alright, we can keep going.”

“You good?” Ari checked before he cracked out of his frozen form. 

“Yep, yep, I’m okay, I’m wonderful,” you chuckled and let the last bit of nerves wash away. 

“Alright,” he dipped down to press a soft kiss to your lips, before his hands guided your arms around his neck, slinking them around him. 

His grasp then scooped down under you and he effortlessly plucked you up off the bed, a shy yelp bubbling up from your lungs as he picked your frame up to cradle you in his arms, his massive cock still lodged inside of you, though when he settled you in his strong hold, it felt as if he found a mystical way to slide even deeper. 

Moans flowed from your lips and vibrated against his skin as your neck soon gave up and lent your cheek to smoosh against his fuzzy chest. 

“There you go,” he stood up tall and bounced you in his arms like you were a toy, just a cocksleeve for him to get off with, “there you fucking go…”

As he picked up the pace and truly gave you a taste of how a real pornstar pounded a pussy for the camera, your eyes screwed shut tight and you felt yourself float away on a cloud, curled up in Ari’s burly arms and surrounded in a storm of your collective moans. The existence of the video camera even faded from your reality as you peeled your eyes open and peeked up at Ari from the pillow of his pec, knowing full well that he too could feel how you began to clench around his cock once more. 

“You gonna cum again?” he repeatedly lifted you up and down on his fat girth, “you gonna be a good girl and cream all over my cock, huh?”

Blinking up at him, your brows crinkled in pleasure as you nodded, “uh-huh.”

“You think you can squirt again for me?” his grip dug into the plush of your ass hard enough for it to leave marks. 

“I-I don’t know–”

“Oh, I think you can,” he switched up his pattern, slowing down slightly and dragging you all the way up till his cock nearly slipped out of you, only to sink you back down in such a rough, yet intensely slow manner, that it made your eyes roll in your skull, “just listen to that,” he smirked at the soft sloshing sound that sinfully echoed as his fat girth repeatedly slid against your g-spot, virtually bullying it till you surrendered, “it’s like she’s begging me to just spend the rest of the day making her gush over and over again until you fucking pass out…”

A shrill cry escaped your form as you let go once more, shaking in Ari’s grasp as Bruce knelt down to capture your sinful drizzle.  

You nearly felt drunk, like you were hours into the best party of your life, when you eventually found yourself planted on the floor, quaking legs unsteady beneath you as you blinked up at Ari, looming above you and furiously fucking his fist. 

“You want me to cum all over that pretty little face?” he grunted as you hazily stuck out your tongue. 

“Yes,” the corners of your lips blissfully curled up into a grin, “please–”

Even though your bones had turned into jelly and your pussy clenched in soreness, the drawn-out moan that rumbled in Ari’s chest as hot ropes of his cum then shot out and painted your features sent tingles throughout your body and filled you with a desire to just wrestle him back down onto the mattress, hit rewind and do it all over again. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[trulybetty]

warm bread & honey

pairing: jackson!joel x reader word count: 3,325 warnings: a little sprinkling of angst if you squint hard enough, briefest mentions of past injuries, no descriptions of reader, use of a nickname, no y/n, just soft and cozy post tlou season one joel deserves estimated reading time: 17 minutes summary: joel returns home to you from patrol ao3: linked

a/n: it's been a while, eh? had to take an unplanned hiatus but trying to figure out how to jump back in - figured a good place to start was by clearing out my wip's. this had been semi-finished for a while, but I wasn't sure it'd fit, then I figured I should just post it - a reminder of writing for yourself first, right?

“The teapot is hot!” You warned when you heard the familiar drag of one of the kitchen chairs being pulled out against the worn wooden floor. The ceramic pot, not long filled with hot water and tea, was made in anticipation of the completion of your morning's baking you had started in the early hours, unable to sleep for tossing and turning.

You had both hands gloved and inside the oven pulling out a loaf of bread, but your forewarning hadn’t been enough to prevent the hissed curse that sounded from behind you. 

Carefully placing the fresh loaf atop the stove, its smell filled the kitchen and enveloped you in a comforting embrace, though it could be easily argued that feeling had more to do with the house's new arrival than anything else. 

“I told you it was hot,” you admonished as you pulled off the oven gloves turning around to find a sheepish Joel sitting at the kitchen table, you gave him a warm smile, “Hi.”

Joel, his jacket already shrugged off and in the process of rolling up his sleeves gave you an equally comforting smile, one that said he was pleased to see you after days apart, “Hi,” he replied. 

Throwing the gloves to the counter you took the three wide steps to close the distance between the two of you. Just the knowledge of him being home, seeing him in one piece, was enough to release the tension that sunk into your bones every time he went on patrol or for anything that required leaving the safety of Jackson’s confines.

As you took that final step, watching him turn in his seat to throw his jacket over the back of the chair beside him, the early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen and highlighting the subtle signs of weariness on his face. Despite the tired weathered lines and the shadows beneath his eyes, his smile when he looked back up at you was genuine, a silent testament to the comfort he found in simply being back home, back with you.

“You look like you’ve been through it,” you observed, your voice a gentle blend of concern and welcome. 

Joel shrugged, a low chuckle escaping him as he subconsciously ran his fingers down to his side, the subtle movement betraying the discomfort he tried to dismiss, “It’s nothin’ darlin’. Just the cold reminding me I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said, attempting to downplay the lingering pain from the old jagged scar at his side.

His attempt to brush off his discomfort didn't fool you; you knew him too well to deny the nuance of his movements as something else, his attempts to hide the silent hiss under his breath. You reached out, your fingers tracing the air just shy of the old wound, a silent acknowledgment of the battles he'd weathered, both external and internal. 

Joel's gaze held yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it with a lopsided smile. 

The morning light, now brighter, spilled into the kitchen, casting long shadows and highlighting the fine dust particles dancing in the air. It was serene, a quiet moment shared between the two of you. Your hip propped against the heavy farmhouse table your hand reached out instinctively to touch his arm, feeling the cold that he’d carried in through the front door seeping from his skin through his now rolled-up sleeves.

“How about,” your fingers toyed with the buttons that did up the front of his shirt, “you let me run you a warm shower,” you suggested, knowing all too well he wouldn’t admit to the true discomfort of the aches the cold weather brought to his old wounds.

Joel’s eyes, a mix of fatigue and the warmth of finally being home met yours. For a moment he seemed to weigh the offer, the stubborn part of him that disliked admitting any form of weakness at war with his need to sink into you. Finally, his resolve melted away, a soft smile escaping him as he gave into the warmth of your proposition.

A smirk appeared on his lips, “Only if you’re joining me.”

You laughed, it was light and genuine with the heaviness of Joel’s absence lifted, his return sweeping out the heavy air that always settled in with each departure.

“I suppose, that can be arranged,” you teased, a knowing look passing between the two of you.

Joel’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking as if welcoming back an old friend, “Is that right darlin’?” 

“Fresh sheets on the bed too.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in that simple gesture. You’d been together for quite some time and yet still he was touched with disbelief that this was life, that anticipation of the domesticity you brought him, something he had believed he’d ever get to indulge in again.

“Well, don’t you know how to welcome a man home,” his smirk deepening into an expression of gratitude. 

He stood from the chair, his movements still carrying evidence of his fatigue and the hollow ache in his bones. The faintest grimace crossed his face, quickly replaced by a lazy grin as he caught your disapproving look. He shooed you through the kitchen door to avoid any potential fussing, a light touch to your lower back, guiding you to the stairs.

The house was still, the only sound was the soft creak of the floorboards underfoot and the distant whistle of the wind outside, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.

The shower’s sound filled the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls within the shower stall. Steam filled the room as you helped Joel out of his clothes, finally resigned to giving in to your care and attention. With each piece of clothing shed, dropped to the floor, revealed more of the toll the patrol had taken on his body. 

He let out a hiss as your fingers grazed over new dark bruises, shadows under his skin in a mottled watercolour display in purple and blue. Despite his attempts to downplay it, the patrol had clearly been a tough one.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said gruffly, catching the concern on your face, swiftly replaced with a roll of your eyes in response.

Joel stepped into the shower, and let out a soft groan as the hot water cascaded over his sore body. He bowed his head under the stream as he braced one hand against the shower wall. Stripped of your own clothes, you stepped in behind him, hands coming to rest on his hips. Slowly, your fingers began to knead the tense muscles along his back, feeling him quickly relax into your touch.

“Rough one out there this time,” he muttered, a tinge of bitterness in his tone as his eyes closed at your touch.

In the safety of the intimate space of the shower, the water releasing the tension from his shoulders, there was a vulnerability that Joel seldom showed.

You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently applying it to his shoulders. Carefully you worked the soap over his body in a meticulous order, paying extra attention to the areas marred by bruises. When you reached the back of his head you massaged your fingers into his hair with a gentleness that was born out of years of shared moments just like that one. 

Joel tilted his head back into your touch, a deep moan escaped his throat as your nails scratched at his scalp, fingers tangling in the curls that had grown longer with the winter weather and his reluctance to stay on top of trimming it. After a moment or two, begrudgingly, you took your fingers from his hair. He bowed his head under the shower head once again to allow the hot water to rinse out the suds. 

Your eyes traced the scars that adorned his back and shoulders like constellations. You could shut your eyes and still map out each one without any hesitation. Many a night, you had traced the lines of his back as he lay on his stomach with you lying next to him. Your fingers brushed strokes over its curves as you talked, sometimes of life before Jackson, life before everything stopped. You would talk about those you missed, who didn’t make it, left behind in a world that was no longer recognizable. Other times, silence was enough, a gentle shroud draped over the two of you. 

With the suds long rinsed out, he turned to face you. His eyes softened as he took in the sight of you. There was a time when this look made you feel vulnerable and far too exposed, with your own scars, those both visible and not, on full display. But now it brought you comfort, that familiarity between the two of you had grown into something precious.

“You look after me too well, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was a low rumble, barely audible over the shower’s spray.

“Who else is going to?” you replied, a hint of amusement to your tone as you pushed back an errant curl from his forehead.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss. The familiar scratch of his beard against your skin felt like home. His breath hitched as you moved your hands around his hips and up the curve of his back, your nails a light scratch against his skin. A sigh of contentment passed between you both, carried away by the steam rising around you.

Pulling back for a moment, his need to pause in the moment, to take it all in, his eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but notice the affection they held, a far contrast from when you’d first laid eyes on Joel Miller. The man you had first met was skittish, kept quiet in his new arrival in Jackson. You’d met him that night at the Tipsy Bison, Eugene regaling the room with a story of your day's misfortune and you’d made your way to the bar to avoid the heckles.

What started as casual conversations at the bar on more than one occasion turned into shared meals in the main hall, Joel too polite to leave when you joined him, then the odd patrols together, and eventually late nights spent in each other's company neither wanting the night to end.

His thumbs gently caressed your cheeks, and you leaned into his touch, your eyes closed at the sweet gesture. He pressed his lips to yours once more. The hot water continued to cascade over you both, creating a warm cocoon you didn’t ever want to leave. Your hands returned to his hips, taking their time as they moved from the curve of his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist. 

“Feels good,” Joel murmured against your lips, his voice husky and thick with gratitude, his eyes half closed as he rocked into the movement of your fingers as they pressed into the tight muscle once again. “But if you keep that up honey, I fear one of us is going to put their back out tryin’ something in this shower we have no business trying. Anyway,” he continued, “didn’t you say something about clean sheets?”

You laughed, as you continued to knead his hips, “I might have mentioned it,” you replied as you gave him a playful pinch.

Joel’s laughter joined yours, a deep, comforting sound that resonated against the tiled walls. Amidst the steam and cascading water it felt precious, a rare moment of lightness that felt almost sacred in its intimacy. 

The two of you finished your shower with a comfortable efficiency in a silent communication that spoke of the years and experiences you’d shared. 

Once dried and wrapped in freshly laundered towels you led Joel by the hand to the bedroom where the promise of fresh sheets awaited, The morning sun had begun to fill the room with a soft golden light that made everything feel a lot more peaceful than the days gone by in Joel’s absence. The bed, freshly made in the early hours when you’d given up on any attempts of sleep, beckoned the two of you to rest and to find solace in each other now both its inhabitants were home.

Joel sat on the edge, his movements slow, a mixture of exhaustion and lingering discomfort. You watched him for a moment, his face bathed in the winter’s sun the lines of his face were softened and for a moment you felt like you were getting a small glimpse of a younger Joel as he closed his eyes and lifted his head to soak in the scant warmth it brought. You felt a surge of gratitude for his safe return, to the quiet life the two of you had managed to carve out together in a world that offered no guarantees.

Joel cracked open an eye to look at you at the end of the bed, “You can come on over honey, don’t have to watch from the cheap seats.”

You shook your head as you laughed, no hesitation in following his invitation. You positioned yourself in front of him as he spread his knees to make room for you to nestle between them, bringing your chest flush with his. Carefully he began to peel the towel from around you, his fingers grazing your skin with a gentleness that belied the strength within them. 

As the towel dropped to the floor at your feet, you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines that time had etched into his skin, each one a testament to the life he had lived. He caught your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the palm before guiding you down to follow him as he lay on the bed.

The sheets, cool and inviting, contrasted with the warmth that radiated from Joel as he pulled you closer. The world outside the window seemed to hold its breath, the light that fell across the room created a haven from the chaos that lay beyond. There with him beside you, for the briefest of moments you could just pretend that it was a regular Saturday morning, just like the ones before the world had changed, where the two of you could have simply been another regular couple.

You closed the space between you, your fingers tangling in his damp locks while his lips met yours. The kiss was soft but held an air of a fight of urgency against the need to savour the moment. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, swollen in response to both his kisses and his three-day beard. 

A soft moan escaped your mouth, causing a growl to rumble in Joel’s chest in response. His arms wrapped tighter around you. It was always the way when he returned, he never rushed, took every moment in slowly, savouring every touch, every sound that he pulled from you. His lips found your neck, his beard scraping the sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips continued to graze a path from your earlobe to your collarbone.

He nuzzled at your jaw, his kisses light and teasing causing you to squirm in delight as you tried to pull his mouth to yours. His laughter was low and husky in your ear as instead he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were alight despite the tiredness that framed them and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your hand found his cheek and he leaned into your embrace.

The tiny bit of warmth of the morning sun framed the two of you, amplified by the heat that had built between you both, wrapped around you like a blanket, comfortable and familiar. His lips found yours again, unable to be parted for too long. His hand cupped your hip, his fingers pressing into you as if testing if you were really there, if the moment was real between the two of you. Confident he had a hold of you, he rolled over onto this back, bringing you with him so that you were straddling him.

Both hands now at your waist his thumbs stroked absent-minded circles against your skin. You glanced down at him, taking in the sight of his now closed eyes and relaxed features. His exhaustion was apparent more than ever. But the sight of pure contentment on his face made your heart flutter. 

The air between you was charged with static, which only seemed to grow in intensity with each breath, each touch, and each whispered word. The worries you’d had during his absence, tied up alongside the knot in your stomach were now coming undone with the soothing balm of his presence.

You leant forward again, this time your lips met his in a simple chaste kiss that had him humming appreciatively beneath you as he moved his hands to the small of your back. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, a sudden slam of what sounded like the back kitchen door punctuated the serene atmosphere, startling the two of you and Joel to grip onto you a little tighter. The muffled sounds of footsteps and voices drifted up the stairs bursting what was left of the bubble of intimacy you and Joel had carefully cultivated.

“Ah, sweet! Honey made bread!” Ellie’s voice, unmistakable and filled with loud delight echoed up through the house, followed by another voice that you had to strain to hear, Dina, a lot more soft-spoken than Ellie.

“Looks like they left in a rush,” Dina said as you heard cupboards being opened and closed with such ferocity that it could only be Ellie. Joel shook his head beneath you as the two of you waited to hear more of what was happening downstairs, “Ellie, didn’t Joel just get home from patrol?”

A brief silence passed, you could’ve sworn you could have heard a pin drop as the whole house seemed to hold its breath. Then came a flurry of whispered curses from Ellie, her realization finally dawning on her. 

“Oh shit,” she exclaimed, before raising her voice, a mixture of haste and apology in one, “Welcome home Joel! Sorry Honey! You two, keep doing your thing—ouch!” you could only assume Dina had stopped Ellie in her tracks before she said something she shouldn’t, “Anyway, we’re leaving! But we’re taking the bread!”

Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie and Dina continued to bicker as they left the kitchen. It wasn’t until you both heard the satisfying click of the kitchen lock that you both let out a laugh. The interruption had shattered the tension between the two of you, leaving you both in a fit of laughter. 

As the laughter subsided, you brushed a thumb over his rough cheek as he stifled a yawn, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch once more. Another kiss to his lips before you rolled yourself off of him to lay down beside him, but still just as close. He pulled you in against his chest, your head finding a home in the crook of his neck, his arms holding you tight, his fingers tracing imagined patterns on your bare skin.

He was home, you could hear the steady sound of his heartbeat in your ear. Outside the wind picked up in spite of the early peaceful sun that rose over Jackson. A reminder that despite the peace Joel’s return had brought, there still was a looming threat outside its boundaries, its frozen breath seeping through wooden walls. You held onto him a little tighter, knowing that despite wishing that you both could be a normal couple in a life full of normalities, the time you had together was tenuous at best.

[kayhi808]

First Crush-Uncle Steve

A few of you have brought to my attention how mean I've made Abby to poor Steve. 😂

Never did you think you'd go through so much work just to get laid. "Baby? If Mama has to go to a work meeting, do you think you can stay with Mr. Captain for a little while?"

Placing her little hand on her chest, she looks up at you, "I's can stay with Bucky."

Uncomfortably, "Um, Bucky will be at the meeting, too." Lying to your baby again. Ugh. "So, do you think you could stay with Mr. Captain for a little bit? Will you be okay?"

"Mr. Captain comes to my house?"

"He could come here. Would that make you feel better?"

Shrugging her little shoulder with a frown, "I guess he can comes here. I has plenty toys."

You give her a little smile. She was so disappointed with Bucky's place because he didn't have a single toy to play with. "Thank you, baby. I'll see if he can watch you over here."

Your big night out with Bucky arrives and you thought Abby would put up a fuss for not being able to leave with you and Bucky, but she doesn't.

The doorbell rings and Abby runs to the door "I gets it!" Before opening it she yells, "Who is it?"

"Abby, it's Bucky."

"Bucky, who?"

"Bucky Barnes."

"Bucky Barnes, who?" Steve and Bucky look at each other confused.

"Abby, can you get your Mama?"

"Ok!"

After a minute, you open the door with Abby propped on your hip. "Sorry about that. She can't reach the locks." Abby laughs and reaches for Bucky so he can carry her. "Come on in. Thanks so much for watching her tonight, Steve."

"Yea, of course. Not a problem."

"I have all the contact numbers on the fridge. Her pediatrician. My neighbor, Candice, if you need help."

"Doll, it's for a few hours. They'll be fine. Won't you Abby?" Jostling her in his arms, making her laugh.

"I know. I'm just...letting him know where I keep the numbers. And if he needs help, in case of an emergency."

"He's Captain America. He'll figure it out. Abby is completely safe."

"I don't doubt her safety."

Steve just laughs, "Get out of here and enjoy your..."

"Meeting! We're going to a meeting." Steve rolls his eyes as you say your good-byes to Abby. She gave you kisses and waved you off.

******

Steve and Abby are left standing by the door staring at each other. As a welcome, "This is mines house," Abby tells Steve looking around the living room.

Steve walk over and takes a seat on the couch, "It's a very nice home."

"I knows. My Mama made it like this." She leans her elbows on his lap looking up at him. "My Mama said we gets pizza for dinner. She put dollars on the counter for yous," pointing at the kitchen.

"Great! I love pizza. So...what's the plan Abby? How does Mama let you spend your day?"

"Mama lets me play until dinner. Then after dinner we has dance party time." She jumps up & down.

"Dance party?"

"Mmmhmmm. Then baths, but she already scrubbed me. I had tubs early so you don't had to do it."

"Ok, great."

"And then I get 3," holding up 3 fingers, "storybooks before sleeps." She smiles sweetly up at him.

"Three stories, got it!" Claps his hands together, "Great! We can do this." Abby cackles. "What do you want to do now until dinner?"

"Want to color? Or draw letters?"

"Draw letters? Ok, I guess we can do that."

Abby runs to her bedroom and returns with her bag of papers and crayons. She puts everything out on the coffee table in front of Steve. She places clean paper in front of him. "Dis yours." Once she's sure he's set up, she sits on the floor by him to start her drawing. "We's can draw to N'asha." Steve frowns at the top of her head.

Abby starts her drawing and ,Steve, starts to sketch Abby. Steve's always had a natural gift of drawing. Before the War, he enrolled in Art School and even today, he finds comfort in the arts. He catches the soft texture of Abby's hair & the roundness of her cheeks. Even the little frown of concentration, as she works on drawing for Natasha.

After a while, Abby checks on Steve's progress, "Mr. Captain! Dat's me!!" She takes his picture and stands beside him, mesmerized. She keeps looking between him and his drawing."

"Abby, you don't have to call me Mr. Captain. You can call me Uncle Steve."

She climbs up onto his lap, "You's my Uncle? I don't has an Uncle."

"Well, now you do."

"Uncle is family? My family is Mama and me."

"And now you have a new Uncle." Abby pops her thumb in her mouth, staring at Steve for a while, mulling over what he said. She leans back against his chest staring at his drawing. After a few minutes, she leans to the side so she can look back at him, "Yous do very good work, Uncle Steve." She pats his arm, with a little drool from her thumb. "I so proud of yous." Again repeating words from her Mama. A little spark of warmth blossoms in Steve's chest. "Thank you, Abby."

"You melcome."

Next chapter

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

[rudeboimonster]

Happy Homewarming everybody!

what do you mean it's March no it's not it's still desperately cold out and-

Anyways! Happy WH update everyone, if you checked out the Wish Book, you saw a few things I got to make for the update! :D These were so much fun to make and I'm so glad it seems like everyone has been really enjoying the update, getting to make props for this project has been amazing and I adore working with the whole crew!

I made Eddie Dear's toy set bag, cut & sew Frank & Wally plushies, and the big Welcome Home tree skirt! (Design collaborated with Echo to get everything to look just right!)

(fun goofy fact: I used a Lost Origins ETB to help stand the mail bag up because I couldn't find anything better than a pokemon tcg box lol)

Welcome Home; Credits page

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day ten: fucking machine

pairing: phillip graves x reader

word count: 807

notes: welcome to day ten! i've been so looking forward to writing this all day even though i had a nasty nail break at work whoops but LOOK IT'S MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN

phillip graves was a busy man. he was the ceo and commander of one of the world’s largest private military companies, and he was running back and forth like a mad man. he always tried to make time for you, but sometimes, there just weren’t enough hours in the day. and he missed you like crazy, it was no secret. he knew it, his men knew it, and most of all, you knew it. and that was why a recent purchase of his didn’t shock you too much.

“it doesn’t replace the real thing, but it’s good enough,” he’d said when he showed it to you, and after laughing a bit, you had to agree.

he’d purchased you an automatic fucking machine, something for you to use in his absence. and while you both preferred the real thing, it was damn near close enough to him, you had to wonder if he’d done one of those molds, just for you.

and now, it was time to break it in, and send him the evidence.

he was busy, off in mexico on an assignment, when he got the message from you. worried, he excused himself from a debrief and went off to his private quarters, a bit of anxiety welling in his chest. when he was alone, he opened his phone and saw that it wasn’t a text, or an audio message, but a video. arching a brow, he clicked on it, and it began to play. 

thank god he was alone.

the sight was obscene, deliciously so. you were on your back, your phone propped up at just the right angle, and the brand new toy he’d purchased for you was slowly pumping in and out of you. his eyes hungrily gazed at the recording, watching one of your hands grip your breast while the other reached down you spread those pretty folds, and rub gentle circles on your clit. the sounds of the machine mixed with your moans, and god, how he missed you, how vocal you were, how eager you were.

“oh, phil …” your voice whispered, just loud enough to hear over the whir of the machine. this was downright sinful, and he was glad he’d left religion behind long ago. he could feel himself growing hard in his jeans, so with his free hand, he unbutton them, and slipped his hand under the waistband of them, and his boxers. his hand wrapped around his leaking cock, and as he watched that pretty pussy of yours get stretched, he pumped his hand in time with the rhythm of the machine.

“that’s it, baby,” he muttered, watching the video intently. “so good for me …”

he continued to stroke his cock, watching your face as you let the machine hit just the right spot to make your toes curl, and he could feel an almost primal growl bubble up in his throat. how badly he wanted to be there with you; on top of you, behind you, inside of you …

he continued to watch intently, his heart pounding his his chest as he watched your lips part slightly, your eyes squeeze shut, and your brows pinch together. he knew you were so close to that orgasm, and so was he. he watched your chest heave, your muscles tense, all of your tells in one perfect video. and just as you were about to cum …

“o-oh my god, oh my god, oh - oh phillip! oh!”

that sent him over the edge. his legs nearly buckled beneath him as he came over his hand and boxers to the sound of you crying out for him in his absence. he had no idea how badly he’d needed to hear that until just then. he leaned back against the wall, his face damp with sweat and hot with exertion. but the video wasn’t over yet.

he watched as you fumbled for the remote to stop it, and whirring sound died. the room was silent, save for your soft, panting breaths. then, you looked at the camera with those beautiful eyes he loved so much, and you smiled. it was a soft, blissful, fucked out smile.

“i miss you, baby. come home soon,” you said, your voice soft. then you blew a kiss to the camera, got up, and crawled over to stop recording. despite what he’d just seen and done, he smiled, and he closed the video to go back to his text messages. he hit the microphone icon, and began to record an audio message for you.

“appreciate the gift, darlin’. i’ll be back as soon as i can. be good for me, love you.”

he hit send, then exhaled a bit. he had some cleaning up to do before he went back out to his men. 

and he had a cover story to whip up.

[satorusugurugurl]

The Best Money Can Buy!

Summary: Marie’s Summer Fest prompt: wine tasting

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, aphrodisiac, smut, unprotected smut, creampies, multiple rounds

Word Count: 3,371

A/N: Thanks for the request, Nonnie! I can totally see Gojo doing something like this! I love me a bottle of white wine! Yummy!!

You loved wine; everyone in your friend group knew that. If it was your birthday, you got at least one bottle of wine from either Shoko or Nanami because Gojo, your sweet boyfriend, didn’t know a lot about wine. He didn’t like the taste of alcohol and was a lightweight. He had little experience knowing what wine to buy, so he usually let the professionals handle it.

Until you started moaning at the white wine Nanami had gotten for you. Your eyes rolled back at the taste, and your head leaned back as you sipped on the glass. Of course, your boyfriend was jealous. You should only make those sounds for him, not some inanimate object (other than your toys). Despite lacking the experience, Satoru decided to buy the best wine he could find!

Of course, he bought the most expensive wine he could find, and what better place to get it than Italy itself?

“Baby!” Satoru from the kitchen. “I’m home!”

From the bedroom, you ran into the kitchen, watching as your boyfriend placed three bottles on the counter—wine bottles, to be exact. Excitement swelled inside your chest as you hid the green, huge bottles with labels written in a foreign language, which meant they were your souvenirs from his latest mission.

“Three bottles of wine from Italy for my beautiful, wonderful, amazing girlfriend!” Gojo excitedly announced, motioning towards them. “Three different vineyards, all stupidly expensive for the average person but mere pocket change for me.”

“Welcome home, Toru!” You wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing him deeply against his lips. “Thank you! You are the sweetest ever!”

His lips pressed against yours before he trailed kisses up your cheeks to the top of your head before placing the wine bottle opener in your hand.

“Anything for you, sweetheart? What do you want to try first, red or white?”

“Satoru, it’s eleven in the morning.”

“So? A little day drinking never hurt anyone.”

He had a point there, and it wasn’t every day that your handsome boyfriend brought you home wine straight from Italy. Snatching the bottle opener out of his hand, you ignore the triumphant chair from your boyfriend as you walk around the kitchen island. Gojo watched you gracefully maneuver yourself around the condo, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cabinets as you opened the bottles, allowing the wine to breathe, whatever that meant. You look so pretty in the summer morning light, and your concentration centers on pouring the wine into the glasses. God, how the hell did he get so lucky?

No matter how mundane your task was, it always left him smiling like an idiot. He said happily, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you bring the first bottle of wine to your lips, sipping the red liquid. Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed, humming erotically. From those sounds you made, you enjoyed his wine more than Nanami’s. That left him with an immense sense of pride as you took a sip of water, cleansing your pallet before picking up the second glance and taking another sip. Another moan left your mouth as you swirled the white wine inside the glass.

“Toru—“ you mewled, “These are so good!” You sighed before picking up your water again and taking another sip.

“Only the best for my baby.” Your boyfriend motions towards the third glass of wine. “Try the last one and tell me what you think of it. I want to know which one is your favorite so I can order you a whole crate full of it.”

Gojo watched in anticipation of your thoughts on the third and final glass, waiting to hear the soft moans that resonated from your mouth. But those soft, sweet sounds never left your mouth. All he heard was a puzzled hum. His eyes peaked towards you, watching your face twist with confusion. Your pretty lips smacked together before you swirled the wine in the glass, taking a larger sip.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, straightening his back as you sipped another glass of the third wine and sipped it. “Does it taste weird?”

“It’s uhm—“ you cringed, you actually cringed as you took another drink, “extremely bitter.”

“Bitter?” Gojo glances at the bottles, frustration clear on his face. “I asked for the best. And if it’s bitter, why the hell do you keep drinking it?”

You down the rest of the glasses shiver, running down your spine before you pour yourself a glass from the second bottle. “I’ve tasted plenty of wine but never had one like that.” Pouting down in his chair as you leaned over the counter, you gave him a big kiss on the lips. “But the other two are probably the best wine I’ve ever had in my entire life. Thank you so much for spoiling me, baby.”

The sulking abruptly stopped as your words left, Satoru feeling like he was on cloud nine. It made him happy hearing how much you enjoyed it. It was the perfect way to start his first evening back at home. It was an evening that was sure to be filled with laughter and snuggles, and the evening started just that way. Snuggling you on the couch as a movie played on the television. It was a perfect evening until Satoru noticed how hot your body was, and he didn’t mean by how attractive you were

Your body was burning up like you had a fever. You were shifting, and a sweat began beating over your forehead. Maybe the room was too warm. However, if that were the case, wouldn’t he be sweating, too?

He brushed it off and the fact that you were wearing leggings. But as more time passed, the sweatier you shifted and fanned yourself. That seemed to do nothing for you as you sat up, pulling your T-shirt up over your head, throwing it to the ground, and frustration as you pressed your thighs together. Your face flushed as you groaned out of annoyance before you got up, rushing for the thermostat to check the temperature.

“Why the fuck is it so hot in here?!” It was set at a comfortable seventy-five degrees. “What’s going on?” You peered over your shoulder at Gojo, who wasn’t sweating. “Are you hot?”

From the rage burning in your eyes, your boyfriends decided to reply with ‘Yeah, I’m super fuckin hot’ with a wink was not the smartest approach. “I’m comfortable, baby.”

“Ugh!” You yanked your leggings down, kicking them off and across the room. “What the hell is wrong with me?! What kind of wine was that last one? It was a rosè, was it?”

“No, of course not; I know you have a mild allergy to that kind.”

“Then what kind of wine is it, Toru?”

In a rush of panic for your safety, Satoru quickly grabbed the bottle, eyes roaming over the label in Italian, a language he didn’t speak. Luckily, he could quickly take a picture of the label and translate it with the help of the internet. With a few taps of his phone, he could discover what wine he had mindlessly bought for you.

“Alright, so it’s a white wine—which you’re not allergic to! Bottled in 1989, an amazing yeah, I made my appearance then!” The nearly demonic growl from you made him clear his throat as he kept reading off his screen. “It’s also a—oh—oh fuck.” Blinking his eyes didn’t change what he was reading like he’d hoped it would.

“It’s a what?”

Satoru’s face fell as he nervously laughed. “It’s uhm—it’s a popular aphrodisiac.” Gojo grimaced as he saw pure hot rage flicker in your eyes. “I swear baby, I had no—!!”

“Take off your pants.”

Your blunt request had your boyfriend staring blankly at you. “I bed your pardon?” He questioned as you stepped forward, clearly not fucking around.

“I said, take off your pants.” your underwear was swiftly tucked down and tossed to the side, along with the rest of your clothing. “Did you hear me that time? Or do I need to repeat myself a third time?”

“N-No, sweetheart!” From the sheer fear, Gojo practically teleported his pants off. The second he was in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt, you were dragging him to the bedroom.

Minutes bleed into hours, and Gojo wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The only thing he was confident of was that he was as sweaty as you were, and he hadn’t had any of the aphrodisiac wine. Sweat beaded at his forehead, slowly running down to his neck. He looked at you through pale eyelashes as you dug your nails into his pale skin, adding to the collection of red crescent moon indents that littered his flawless skin. And remove you made in every roll of your hips left his cock begging for mercy. It was overly sensitive, and it was getting to the point that it was almost sore from overuse. You were testing to see if he was indeed ‘the strongest’ in every sense of the word.

But when you frantically ground your hips down on him, he wasn’t feeling very strong at all. “Fuck!” The pain, pleasurable tone of his voice echoed within the bedroom, along with the sound of the creaking bedframe. “B-Baby! Love of my life, I’m begging you to please let me—nngh!!” You’re slamming down on him, silencing any further words left his mouth.

“Shh~! I-I’m—” You tilted your head back with a shuddering sigh, “I’m close again!” Pale brows knitted together as Satoru bucked his cock into your weeping cunt.

His cock twitched as your wet walls hugged him tight, refusing to let him go, squeezing him for all he was worth. There wasn’t much left. Feeling him twitching inside your heart flipped a switch in your brain, telling your hips, which were sore and stiff, to move even faster. Before you knew it, the grinding had turned into you slamming yourself up and down on Gojo’s cock as hard as you could, drawing out a whimper from the man beneath you.

In this position, your clit rubbed perfectly against his crotch, driving you over the edge. When your walls started convulsing around his poor overused cock, Satoru somehow mustered some of his remaining strength to grab hold of your hips, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he madly began thrusting up into you. His sudden burst of energy had flipped the tables, leaving you a whimpering mess above as he snarled dominantly below you. Much like Gojo, your pussy was screaming in protest, every nerve burning with overstimulation. Those whimpers, the intense contractions of your walls, had your boyfriend spilling whatever cum he had left inside of you. Giving you everything he had to offer.

“Fuck—fuuuck—” he moaned out as you pulled your hands away from his chest. “I’m going to be shooting blanks here pretty soon if you keep this up, sweetheart.”

“Mm.”

A pained nervous chuckle sounded from his throat as you pulled yourself off of his cock. Were you finally done? Have the effects of the aphrodisiac finally worn off after eight rounds of sex?

“Oh, thank—nngh!” Tears welled in his cerulean eyes as he threw his head back. His pupils the size of pin-pricks as you put yourself in reverse cowgirl before you slammed yourself back onto his twitching cock.

The sound of his breathless, shaky gasps with music to your ears as his hands groped the fat of your ass, massaging it as you began bouncing yourself up and down on his shaft. Your hands rested on his knees, allowing you to keep your balance. You pushed yourself up for a second before slamming back down, your wet pussy singing happily as you rocked. Satoru was making his music, a symphony of grunts, moans, and huffs of breath as he watched you riding him as if he were your favorite dildo.

Which he didn’t mind.

“Oh fuck, fuck yes, baby!” Despite how sensitive his cock was, Satoru was getting a second wind, eager to please you more. “Ride it~; throw it back, baby.”

Well, your boyfriend was catching his second wind. You were finally starting to feel as though the aphrodisiac was wearing off. Your legs were tired, your back was stiff, and you were fairly certain that you couldn’t take much more of this. You gave his knees a tight squeeze before your movements came to a halt. Gojo took note of the way that your thighs were trembling and how your soft whimpers became more like pained whines.

“Ooh baby,” he cooed, sitting up, grabbing your ass tighter. “Are you tired, baby?” When you just nodded, Gojo hummed. “Poor baby~ do you want me to take over?” Another weak nod. “Okay baby, I got you, no worries. Get into position.”

Without a word, you got onto your hands and knees, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who grinned almost wickedly. “Like this?” Gojo growled, grabbing your ass and spreading your cheeks so he could stare at your twitching pussy leaking cum onto the bed sheets.

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” He smacked his cock against your ass before lining it up with your entrance. “You want it?”

“Yes.”

“You really want it?”

“Yes, please! I fucking need it, Toru! Please, I—gaaahk!” You gritted out as his long cock was shoved inside of you, stretching out your walls, pushing deeper inside of you than you were able to reach before. “Ahh—nngh! T-Toru!”

“Oooh fuck baby~just like that sweetheart!” The palm of his hand connected with your ass in an echoing smack. “You’re taking my cock so good! You’re such a good girl!”

What happened to the man who was whimpering and moaning underneath you a few minutes prior? You thought he would be done after the last round; you would just be milking him one last time before you both passed out from overexertion. This feral version of your boyfriend was something you could get used to.

From the way his hand continued to smack you on the ass to the dirty words that left his smooth pretty lips, you couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, you just gripped the sheets with both hands, clutching them for dear life. As you moaned and answered every question, he asked if he felt deep enough. Or if he wanted him to come inside for the ninth time that night. He also asked if you were comfortable or if it was too much for you to handle. Usually, it would’ve been. But thanks to the aphrodisiac he had accidentally bought, your stiff muscles were the only thing you could complain about.

“Mmmm.”

“Fuck I love you so much! I’m sorry I accidentally drugged you with an aphrodisiac.” he planted kisses down your spine, his fingers gently massaging the sting out of your ass from his latest slaps. “But I’m also glad this happened. Because I got to spend the evening with you like this.”

“Satoru!” You cried it out as he laid his bare chest flush against your back. “Kiss me!”

When it came to you, you never needed to ask him for a kiss. Before you could sigh, Satoru’s mouth was on yours and a searing kiss. His hand gripped your chin and tilted your head to the side, deepening it. As his tongue gently massaged his hips, ground against your ass, pushing himself deeper inside of you until his tip was kissing your cervix.

Satoru growled into your mouth, eyes opening just an inch to watch your eyebrows twitch with pleasure as you struggled to kiss him in between soft little moans. Seeing that expression, only him seeing such a cute look on your face, had him more than eager to continue to pleasure you. The slow grinding turned into a full, deep thrust as he pulled himself out completely before pushing back in. Your walls eagerly clenched around him, welcoming the change of pace.

“Haaah, oh my god, fuck!” Satoru mewled out against your kiss, swollen lips. “Holy shit, I love you—I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“Nngh, agh~ hngh! I-I love you too, Toru!”

Even though he hadn’t had any of the aphrodisiacs himself, he felt a burning desire deep in his stomach. One that was not fueled by a chemical but by his love and adoration for you. Those pure, raw emotions had his lips against yours and another furious kiss.

“T-Toru—!!” you tried to warn him, but the rough thrust caused every word to leave your mouth and brain as you only found yourself capable of moaning.

“Good girl~ give me baby girl, give it all to me!” your walls constructed around his cock as your legs began to shake. “Fu-Fuck baby, yes, yes—g-gonna!!”

From the heat in the room to the feel of you coming around him, Gojo had been doomed from the start. He slammed himself fully inside of you. His balls slapped loudly against your ass as he spilled above you with a roar of pleasure. The fuzzy oxytocin that pumped through your veins made it almost impossible to register your boyfriend's orgasm aside from the warmth of his cum that filled you.

You blinked slowly, your heart rate slowing down, allowing you to listen to the bed shift as your Satoru pulled out, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Each blink of your eyes almost seemed to make time fast. One second, you felt Satoru rub at the small of your back before you blinked, watching him leave the room. The next time you opened your eyes, you watched as he stood above you, rubbing a warm, damp rag over your skin, cleaning you up between your legs.

The warmth of his hands and the gentleness of his touch lulled you to a light sleep. You probably would have slept more if he hadn’t gently rubbed circles against your shoulders and drawn you out of your slumber. The second your pretty eyes locked on him, Satoru felt as if his heart was being squeezed inside his chest.

He didn’t say anything as he handed you a bottle of water. The unspoken request was loud and clear. You took it greedily, gulping down the liquid, using the dry burn in your throat. You kept swallowing down the water until it was empty. Without so much as a word, you snuggled into your boyfriend‘s chest, humming contently as he wrapped his strong arms around you. All the while, his hands gently rubbed up and down your spine, easing the stiffness that formed in it.

He stayed like that, embracing each other until Gojo pulled his head back an inch to stare down at you. “You doing okay there, sweetie?”

“Mhm, I’m a little sore, but I’ll survive.”

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“Not right now. I want to stay in your arms a little bit longer.”

Satoru pressed his lips against your head as he tightened his grip around you. “Alright, sweetness, just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll carry you there.” You nuzzled your face into his side with a pleased moan.

“I will,” you whispered, “I love you, Toru.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Gojo Satoru might not know much about wine, but he knew how to love you unconditionally. That was worth more than any overly expensive wine his money could buy. Because the love Gojo had for you was priceless.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

Summer Fest Tag List:

@typicalife-101

[archangeldyke-all]

Omg

Sev and reader introducing little fucker to Silco after she’s born?? My heart🥹

GAWDDDDD

men and minors dni

silco's always been better with children than with adults. they make more sense to him. children are up front, they say what they mean, they don't lie. they're simple. they're easy to please. a card trick, a coin pulled from behind their ear-- that's all it takes to get a kid smiling and laughing and squealing.

so, when silco finds out that his best friend is expecting: he's thrilled.

i've mentioned this before, but silco actually makes himself the godfather of your kid. obviously; you guys were going to ask him to be the godfather anyways, but you were going to ask after the baby was born.

silco showed up on your doorstep when you were five months pregnant, a box of diapers on his hip, a cardboard box with a crib printed on it propped up on the wall beside him.

"silco? it's saturday, do you and sev have a weekend meeting?" you ask, worried. silco chuckles and walks into your house like he owns it.

"no, dear, i'm here to begin my godfatherly duties. sevika told me you haven't gotten a crib for the nursery yet, and it's never too early to start a stock of diapers." he says, handing you the box of diapers and starting to drag the boxed crib inside after him.

he's a huge help during the pregnancy, surprisingly. he's always letting sevika take time off-- to go to all your appointments with you and to help you once the baby comes.

during your pregnancy, he stops by your house once or twice a week, sometimes after work with sevika, sometimes on his own; always with a new toy or onesie for the baby, and a bottle of whiskey for sev, and takeout from whatever place you're craving for you.

silco's always been the closest thing sevika has to family, you've always been happy to welcome him into your life and home. but, you've never really seen the two bond.

they're both stand-offish people, they communicate in their own telepathic language, developed over years spent working and living together. but, when they talk about the baby, they both glow.

one of your fondest memories from your pregnancy was watching sevika show silco the sonogram of your little girl. it was the first time you'd seen the two of them hug. it was the first time you'd seen silco cry. he'd even wrapped you up into a tight hug, kissing your head and then awkwardly patting your belly.

he's one of the only people you let meet little fucker when she's still a newborn.

you and sevika are paranoid, first-time parents. you're also both huge homebodies. you have no desire to drag your weeks old daughter around town and show her off to all your germ covered family and friends.

but, your best friend, your family, and silco-- they're different.

silco's there at the hospital when you're in labor. he and sevika share a cigar in the parking lot when little fucker's safely delivered. he meets the baby then, cooing down at the bundle of blankets in your arms; but mostly, he's just there to check in on your and sev.

then, about a month into her life, you invite silco over to formally meet his god daughter for the first time.

you dress little fucker in one of the outfits silco'd picked out for her months ago, and you watch in fascination as the stoic man bursts into tears for a second time when he takes his god daughter in his arms for the first time.

sevika just laughs, and wraps her arm around her best friend.

"she looks just like you." silco sniffles, his eyes quickly flashing between sevika's face and your daughter's, comparing their features.

"tell me about it. i carried the little shit around for nine months, and she decides to come out lookin' like sev instead." you pout from the couch. sevika giggles and kisses your scalp.

silco chuckles through his tears, and then presses a gentle kiss to little fucker's head. "she's beautiful." he whispers.

you smile and nod, and sevika chokes on her tears beside you.

"yeah, she is." you whisper.

once a week, from the day she's born, silco will come over and take little fucker out for an afternoon.

sometimes he takes her for a stroll, sometimes he takes her to his place, sometimes he takes her along to run errands with him. it doesn't matter. he just gives you and sevika a few hours, every week, to just... relax. you're pretty sure it's the only thing that kept you sane for the first year of motherhood.

little fucker loves her uncle silco. he spoils her to no end, and he's not scared of you or sevika, so he'll blatantly disobey your rules in your own home to make your daughter smile. plus, he's not the one that has to deal with the sugar rush that comes two hours after he shovels candy in your daughter's mouth.

when she starts talking, little fucker calls silco 'unky silly.' he blushes every time she says it, but can't find the heart to try to correct his god daughter.

their favorite place to go is the aquarium. silco likes the sharks, little fucker likes alligators. they can spend the entire day there, just pointing at the animals and fish to one another.

i think little fucker's born when jinx is like 7, so it's the perfect age for jinx to absolutely adore her baby cousin.

jinx is the youngest of her siblings, so she never got to have someone look up to her. but little fucker worships the ground jinx walks on, and it's a huge boost to her self esteem. (it also makes her behave better, at least when she's in front of your daughter. she wants to be a good example.)

when jinx isn't in school or with her siblings, she's always accompanying silco on his little fucker dates. you can count on your daughter being returned from silco's house with at least three braids in her head.

you get all of jinx's baby clothes as hand me downs for little fucker, which only makes jinx all the more convinced that little fucker is actually just her baby.

sure, you and sevika made the kid, but it was just a gift for jinx, right?

it's hard for you to deny that accusation when you watch the two play, all the older kids wrestling in the back yard while jinx, ekko, and little fucker all arrange their teddy bears and action figures in seated positions for a tea party, jinx patiently waiting for little fucker to pick out the perfect hat for her to wear.

this isn't to say her older cousins don't love her. mylo, claggor and vi are constantly flinging her around, giving her piggy backs and tossing her in the air and giving you mini heart attacks. it's just that her and jinx have a special bond.

but, as much as she adores jinx, she will always hug her unky silly first.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar

[nylqnder]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 | 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄

summary: nearing the end of your pregnancy, you and jamie are stuck with the difficult decision of choosing a name

warnings: pregnant!reader, talks of accidental pregnancy + out of wedlock pregancy (idk if that needs to be warned but wtvr), one curse word

word count: 1.44k

Jamie shoved his keys into the lock, pushed open the door and stepped into the quiet home, a welcome change from the raucous rink he’d just left. Jamie called out your name but was met with silence. The house was unusually quiet, an almost serene atmosphere that made him curious. He dropped his bag at the door, the soft thud of it hitting the floor echoing slightly in the stillness. He ventured further into your home, glancing into the bedroom and kitchen, finding them both empty. Entering the living room, he finally spotted you on the couch, fast asleep.

Your swollen belly rose and fell gently with each breath, a book propped open on your stomach. Jamie took a moment to appreciate the scene, the soft afternoon light casting a warm glow over you. The sight of you resting so serenely, nurturing the life within you, brought a smile to his face. He felt a wave of affection and protectiveness wash over him, stronger than ever before.

Your falling pregnant had initially been an accident. Neither of you had planned for it and the news had come as a surprise. After consecutive mornings filled with nausea and random cravings for pickles, you brought up the prospect of potentially being pregnant to Jamie. He went out and bought pregnancy tests, with you taking them later that evening. Jamie remembered when the positive sign appeared on all four tests, your hands trembling with tears spilling down your cheeks — a mix of shock, fear, and an underlying sense of joy.

Jamie took you into his arms, whispering reassurances even as his own mind raced with thoughts of your future. The initial shock soon gave way to overwhelming excitement. Jamie had been on the fence about potential parentage, but the sudden reality of it had him more excited than ever.

You were now eight months pregnant, your lives slowly changing and adjusting to the impending rhythm of parenthood. Jamie watched with admiration as you embraced all aspects of the journey head-on, the good and the bad. Your resilience shone through even during the difficult days, which often included waking up with severe nausea and constantly feeling sore all over. Jamie also marveled at the way your body transformed, the pregnancy glow becoming a very real thing for you.

The house gradually filled with preparations for the baby, whom you’d come to learn was a girl. Gifts had come from those in your lives such as your families as well as Jamie’s teammates who had been nothing but supportive in your journey to parenthood. There was a crib in the corner of your bedroom, tiny clothes folded neatly in drawers, soft toys waiting to be loved.

In quiet moments like these, when he found you resting, he hoped to extend the peace for as long as possible. He knew that the stark reality of parenting would inevitably bring many late nights and hours filled with crying. These brief time-outs from life were precious, a refuge from the relentless demands that awaited. He wished to shield you from the exhaustion and overwhelm that he knew would plague you. Your due date was set right in the middle of the season, the both of you realizing that the first four months of responsibility would fall on your shoulders.

Jamie slowly and quietly approached you, reading the front cover of your book. 100,000+ Baby Names. Jamie chuckled softly as he bookmarked your page and placed it on the coffee table. The name of your daughter was something that you had been discussing since you found out about your pregnancy. You’d each thrown out a couple of names, but nothing seemed right.

Jamie moved to kick off his shoes but accidentally bumped into the empty laundry basket on the side table, sending it careening to the floor.

“Fuck.” Jamie said under his breath.

He glanced at you on the couch, hoping that the sudden noise had miraculously not woken you up, however, you stirred awake, blinking your eyes open and adjusting to the sunlight that flowed through the open windows. You spotted Jamie across from you, offering him a sleepy smile.

“Hey you,” you whispered, stretching your arms above your head and sitting up.

"Hey yourself," Jamie replied, coming to your side and kissing your forehead softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

“It’s okay, I wasn’t really sleeping anyways, just resting my eyes,” you tell him. With the baby being particularly active at night, you find your sleep schedule getting messed up and afternoon naps become a habit.

Jamie took a seat next to you, pulling you into his chest, and relaxing back onto the couch. “So how’s my favourite mom-to-be?” he asked.

“Tired as usual. No nausea though,” you said, Jamie offering his hand out for a high five, which you slap with a smile on your lips.

You nestle into each other's embrace, Jamie sticking a pillow under your belly to relieve some of the weight.

“So, any new contenders?” he asked, motioning to the book on the table.

You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t think so,” you said. “I mean I read Sadie, which is cute but I’m not totally sold.”

Jamie reached over, picking up the book off the coffee table and flicking open to a random page, scanning the names.

“How about… Chloe?” he suggests.

You pull a sour face, shaking your head. “I knew a girl named Chloe back in grade school, and she was a bitch.”

Jamie chuckled, flipping through more pages. “Sophia?”

You sighed, shaking your head once again. It felt like no name was the right one for your daughter.

“Y’know, Trevor called the other day. Told me that if we were still stuck on a baby name, we could always name her after him.” Jamie told you.

You snorted, shaking your head at the idea of naming your baby girl Trevor. “Absolutely not. I do not need two Trevor’s in my life.”

Yours and Jamie’s laughter blended together, as you imagined naming your daughter after his friend. “Yeah, we don’t need to give Trevor even more of an ego boost,” Jamie said. “He’s already declared himself an uncle.”

You and Jamie once again went back to reading names before you spotted one that caught your eye. You placed your finger on it, stopping Jamie from flipping pages. “How about Darcy?” you suggested. “It means dark-haired one.” you read from the page, reaching behind you and running a hand through Jamie’s black locks.

“Darcy,” Jamie repeated with a satisfied hum in his voice. “I like it.”

“Darcy it is then,” you said softly, placing a hand on your bump. “Hi, little Darcy.”

Jamie placed the book of names on the coffee table and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "Darcy," he said once again softly, the name finally feeling like the right one as it came off his tongue. "I can't wait to meet you."

You curled into Jamie, the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his heartbeat creating a comforting rhythm. The room filled with a peaceful silence, as your mind began to wander to the future. As you nestled closer, Jamie's hand found its way to your bump, resting there with gentle protectiveness. "Do you think she'll have your eyes?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

You smiled, imagining your daughter's tiny face. "Maybe. I think she’ll have your smile and your hair."

Jamie chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. "As long as she's healthy and happy, that's all that matters."

You nodded, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you. The future, once a vague concept, now felt more real with a name to hold onto. You could almost see her growing up, taking her first steps, saying her first words.

You and Jamie continued to talk about all the things you want to do with your daughter — reading her bedtime stories, teaching her to skate as you inevitably know you’ll maintain a hockey family. His excitement was infectious, and you found yourself lost in the vision of the family you'll soon be.

The room grew quieter as the evening progressed, the soft glow of the lamp casting a gentle light around you. Jamie's voice became a soothing lullaby, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

"You're going to be such an amazing mom," Jamie whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I love you both so much."

You managed a sleepy smile, your heart full. "I love you too," you say before your eyes close and you drift into sleep.

[thebibutterflyao3]

"Spiritual"

@pandalilymicrofics - 1032 words

part nine - part ten - part eleven

Reminding herself that she had no reason to hurry home, Lily rode the tube to the other side of town. There were a number of queer clubs in London, but she wasn’t in the mood to dance and definitely not dressed for it, so she headed to The Golden Doe. Walking confidently through Leicester Square, Lily made her way to the first sapphic pub she stepped foot in after her divorce was finalized. The Gold Doe welcomed her, as it always did, with a friendly bartender and a few familiar faces. 

Lily smiled to herself and slid off her suit coat, aiming for a slightly more casual look. The black, sleeveless silk blouse beneath with lace across the bodice was one of her favourites. Spotting an open stool at the bar, she tucked her purse carefully into her briefcase and draped her coat over her lap. She decided against the questionable pub floor, resting her briefcase on the foot rail instead. Once she’d finally settled in, Lily sipped her drink and let her gaze sweep over the other patrons. 

“Hello again,” Dorcas said, slipping into the seat next to her. “Where have you been?”

Lily smiled, recognising her voice before turning. “Working, you?”

“That’s always the way, isn’t it?” Dorcas ordered a scotch and soda, answered a text on her phone, then propped her elbow on the bar to face Lily. “Did you come straight from the office too?”

“I did,” Lily admitted. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you since that night,” Dorcas said thoughtfully, circling her index finger around the rim of her glass. “The last time you were here, I mean.”

Lily stared into her pretty pink drink, toying with the plastic sword which speared half of an orange slice. A month ago, she met Dorcas and enjoyed an evening chatting her up. Dorcas was a clever lawyer with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. They’d ended up snogging in a dark corner for what felt like ages before Lily bailed. It wasn’t a bad snog, but it was more of a battle than she was prepared for. Apparently, Dorcas preferred to lead, but so did Lily. Same problem, different partner. 

“Were you thinking that we are a little too alike?” Lily asked.

Dorcas chuckled. “Something like that. I enjoy a bit of a power struggle, but I wasn’t sure if you were into it. Seeing as how you ended things early.”

Lily huffed an awkward little laugh. “Pass. I’ve been there, done that. It didn’t end well.”

“I understand. Well, if you change your mind…you have my number,” she said, nudging Lily’s elbow. Dorcas swivelled on her stool and lifted to her feet. “Oh good, my friend’s finally here. If you’d like to join us, you’re welcome.”

Lily glanced up with a denial on her lips and froze. It was her. Or, it could be her, if she was real.

Tiny blonde braids were looped around the crown of her head with butterfly clips, but otherwise, the beautiful woman approaching Dorcas was incredibly similar to the one she’d dreamed about. Although, as Lily studied her, she did see more differences. It’s not possible. I’m projecting. Wishful thinking. 

“Hello, love.” Dorcas greeted her with air kisses. “You look nice.”

The woman smiled, then flicked one of the butterfly clips lightly. “My personal stylist insisted I needed a proper ‘going out’ look. Do you like it?”

“Obviously.”

Lily finished her drink in one long swallow and debated her options. She could leave now, take the tube home, and crash into bed before nine like she had nearly every day for the last two weeks. Or, she could buy this woman a drink, strike up a conversation, and see what happens. 

Will it ruin the fantasy if it becomes real? Annoyed with herself, Lily brushed that thought away as soon as it landed. The real quandary here was simple. Did Lily want to pursue someone? Anyone? Was she ready if it was real? Would she be disappointed if it wasn’t, or relieved?

I don’t know what I want, but I can’t risk missing out on this. On her. I have to know who she is, at least!

Decisively, Lily swivelled around in her chair to find Dorcas and the blonde tucked into a booth in the far corner. Her heart sank at once when she realised they were holding hands. 

Am I too late? Did I misunderstand her invitation?

“Another cosmo?” the bartender asked. 

Lily rested her elbows back on the bar and nodded. “Yes, please.”

The longer she watched Dorcas and her friend, the more Lily wished she hadn’t hesitated. If she’d simply followed Dorcas to meet the woman, Lily could have introduced herself without an awkward walk through the crowd that was beginning to fill out the pub. But no, she was busy overthinking everything again and ducked instead of swerving.

Lily sighed and gathered up her suit coat, then glanced down at her feet. If she was going to take a shot, she’d have to haul her briefcase with her. Inane insecurities that she hadn’t heard from in ages popped up now. 

What if I walk all the way over there and she’s not interested? Walking back with her coat and briefcase in hand would be humiliating. Perhaps it was presumptuous to bring everything with her, but she couldn’t leave it unattended. 

What if Dorcas was just being polite? Then, when I show up, I’ll make their girls’ night awkward.

What if Dorcas didn’t mean “join them” at the table, but “join them” in bed? Lily had no idea what she’d say to that proposition. While she was working on being open-minded, Lily wasn’t sure she was ready to be threesome open. 

Her fingers drifted absently over her suit coat as she worked up the courage to approach the table. Which was when she felt it, a hard lump in her pocket that definitely hadn’t been there when she dressed that morning. Lily pulled out the pink stone and stared at it, incredulous. Another piece of rose quartz had appeared in her pocket.

What does it mean? Am I having a spiritual experience or a fever dream?

[puppyluvfics]

Toy Box | Kim Jungsu

Kim Jungsu | Kinktober Day 1 WC: 3k Genre: Smut Summary: Jungsu finds good use for your pre-relationship collection of toys Warnings: overstimulation, graphic descriptions of f!anatomy, the lightest of impact play (a few spanks), pet names including the word "girl" used quite a lot Kinks: Sex Toys, Overstimulation A/N: HEYYYY!!!!!! Welcome to: A VERY PUPPYLUV KINKTOBER!!! This is my first time doing kinktober, eeee how exciting! Sorry I've been gone for so long! I started grad school and then I dropped out of grad school, it's been wild. I'll make an update post and a kinktober master list soon enough. For now... I'M BACK! Let's get kinky!

Before you met Jungsu, it wouldn’t be far fetched to say that you were a collector of certain… toys. If nobody was going to make you feel good, why shouldn’t you do it yourself? Then, of course, he came along. 

You had never used toys with him before, but he knew you had quite the collection. It wasn’t that he was intimidated by them, it’s just that things were always so intense and good with just the two of you that they never needed integration. Still, you weren’t shy about using them whenever he wasn’t home. You were just as human as he was, and god, when you were needy, you were needy. 

What you didn’t expect, though, was for him to come waltzing through the door one early weekday afternoon. Usually at this time, he was out, either working on something or running errands. Which left you with enough alone time to take care of any needs you had. 

Today was no different. You were laying in your shared bed, a few pillows propping you up, with your knees bent and legs spread. Your clothes and underwear had long been tossed somewhere on the floor. You hadn’t expected to be seen, so why should it have mattered? Despite that, though, you were putting on quite a show, even if just for yourself. You had clipped a cute pair of nipple clamps onto yourself, the chain falling onto your stomach in small waves, and your hand was working a simple wand vibrator against your clit. Your head was thrown back on the pillows, eyes shut and mouth open. You were hardly shy about the filthy moans coming from your lips, many of them including Jungsu’s name. Before you had gotten with him, you used to get off to porn, whatever you were feeling at the time. But now? Well… why wouldn’t you fantasize about the previous sexual encounters you’d had?

Your mind raced with memories of when he had bent you over the arm of the couch, the way his hand came down on your ass, the red mark it left after… another time when he’d taken you in the shower, the way his hands glided across your slick body before settling between your legs, all while his lips toyed with a spot on your neck, occasionally drifting to bite your earlobe… frankly, you could come just from thinking about him… and you were right there…

You jumped softly, immediately reaching for something to cover yourself when you heard him clear his throat. When you opened your eyes, there he stood, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his lips.

“Having a good time?” He asked. God, he was so cheeky when he wanted to be. You panted softly, coming down from the edge of what was sure to have been an earth-shattering orgasm. 

“Wh-what are you doing home so early?” You answered his question with a question. If he couldn’t tell you were having a good time given the sounds you had been making…

“There wasn’t much to do today… you haven’t answered my question.” He said, pushing off the door frame, walking into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out and teasingly running his index finger up and down your shin.

“I… um, y-yeah.” You admitted. Why lie? You were about to come… of course you were having a good time. He picked up another vibrator you had pulled out earlier but hadn’t used yet, turning it over in his hands as he looked at it.

“This is cute.” He commented, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you weren’t laying there, naked, your nipples clamped, dripping wet and throbbing. You thanked him softly, watching him stand up and walk over to your bedside table. He was aware that the bottom drawer housed your toys, but he never really sat down and looked through them all. You reached to pull the nipple clamps off of yourself, but as he kneeled on the floor, he spoke, having seen you in his peripheral vision.

“Leave them on.” His tone was hardly threatening, but Lord, it was commanding, and who were you to disobey an order from him? You moved your hands away, letting them rest by your sides. 

He pulled the drawer open, rummaging through your toys. He didn’t take long, standing up a few moments later, with his hands full. You glanced over to see what he held, and for the briefest of seconds, you wished you hadn’t. Your cheeks flushed bright pink when you saw the shiny plug in his hands, as well as your glass dildo. The former had a pink heart shaped jewel at the bottom, which went well with the pink glass toy, with a heart at the end of it. You were nothing if not someone who enjoyed cute things, even when they went inside of you.

With his free hand, he tugged softly on the chain of your nipple clamps, eliciting a small whine from you as well as an arch of your back. He smirked once more at your sound and movement.

“Eager, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He asked, knowing that pet names like that drove you wild. You squeezed your thighs together as you nodded up at him.

“Hm? What was that? Use your words, doll.” He said, tugging on the chain again. “You weren’t shy about moaning my name earlier, now you’re too shy to say that you’re eager for me?” 

“I-” You started, quickly cut off by another tug on the chain. He let the chain drop from his fingers before he tapped the outside of your thigh with his palm.

“Hands and knees for me, pretty girl.” He said. Obviously, you obliged. His hands found their way to your lower back, rubbing small circles down over your ass and down the back of your thighs before going back up again. “Such a good girl for me.” He commented, landing a small but sharp smack on your ass. He bent down just enough to be eye level with your ass, softly pulling your cheeks apart, running his tongue on you, slowly, starting from your clit until you felt the tip of his tongue circle your ass. The two of you had dabbled in anal play before, he wasn’t against teasing you with his tongue there, but it wasn’t a common thing; that’s why you arched your back deeper than you ever had before when you felt his hot, wet tongue against your rim. He knew that saliva wouldn’t serve well enough for what he was about to do, so after a few more licks and playful smacks across your ass, he pulled away. You could hear him lubing up the butt plug, and you let out a few slow, deep breaths, trying to relax. You weren’t scared, you had gotten quite a lot of uses out of that plug, but the initial thoughts always made you tense up. 

“Are you ready, pretty girl?” He asked, rubbing a soothing hand on your lower back, the other hand holding the cold, lubricated plug against your hole. You took another few deep breaths then nodded, relaxing under his touch. You knew you could tell him to stop or slow down, and he knew you knew. You loved that about your dynamic. At your signal, he began to push it in, his other hand never ceasing its soothing movements. You let out soft moans, mostly of pleasure as he worked the plug into you, until finally, he signaled that it was in with a light pat on your ass, as if you couldn’t feel the fullness. 

“Such a good girl for me, you took it so well.” He said, tracing the heart shaped jewel with his fingertip. “Now, show me how well that pussy can take being full at the same time, hm?” He continued, lightly tapping the cold glass toy on your pussy, taking careful consideration to tap your clit, driving you wild. You nodded through your moans and gasps, arching your back more and more until your chest was nearly pressed into the mattress under you. Your pussy was still dripping wet from your earlier playtime, and between the teasing taps and the insertion of the butt plug, you just got more and more wet. He easily slid the whole dildo inside you, going at a medium slow speed - faster than he had plugged your ass, but slower than he’d ever fucked into you himself. His free hand grabbed the wand you had been playing with earlier, tapping it against your arm, as if to tell you, ‘you know what to do.’ And god, you did. You turned the vibrator back on, adjusting the speed to where you liked it before pressing it to your clit, whines and whimpers falling from your lips from that alone. Then, he started to pump the dildo in and out of you, eyeing you the entire time.

“That’s my girl, look how pretty you are like this. Both of those holes full, writhing with pleasure. You love being good for me, don’t you?” He asked punctuating each word with a thrust of the toy inside you. You moaned your responses out, though, if you were being honest, you were so lost in pleasure that you weren’t sure if the yeses falling from your lips were answers to his questions or simply cries of ecstasy. 

It didn’t take long for you to get close, he knew how to get you there in the best ways. “J-Jungsu… fuck, Jungsu, I’m gonna come.” You whined out, letting the vibrator fall from your shaking hand onto the bed under you. He wasted no time in picking it up, putting it back on your clit, even going so far as to turn the speed up one. You cried out once more, on the very, very edge.

“Please…. Please can I come?” You begged him. It was never established that you had to ask permission to come, not now, or ever, but the request came naturally. You were under his mercy in this very moment, it felt right to give him control of your orgasms as well. 

“Go on, pretty girl. Come for me. Be a good girl and show me how nicely you come for me.” He coaxed, rubbing the vibrator in small circles on your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming. You gripped the bedsheets under you as you shook and came, loud whiny moans muffled under you in those same sheets. Normally, he’d slow down and pull away, letting you come down from your high. But not this time. He continued to pump the toy in and out of your dripping pussy, rubbing the vibrator on your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, Jungsu, I’m so sensitive, I don’t know if I can-” You whined. You could keep going, you just didn’t know it. Overstimulation was uncharted territory for you two, but again, you knew if it was actually too much, one utterance of the word “no” or “stop” would bring a complete end to the whole thing, no questions asked. 

“Shh, you can take it, baby. Just a little more.” He said, speeding up his movements again. Normally, he would leave you fucked out from just one round of sex, but this? This was different. It was nearing that same blissful sensation, but different. Your moans were quickly replaced with loud, constant whining, and before long, your entire body shook. It took you by surprise, your next orgasm, but fuck… if that’s what coming from overstimulation felt like, you’d definitely incorporate it more often. It ripped through you like hot venom, the smallest dribbles of squirt or sweat or wetness dripping down your inner thighs, whines and screams and begs filling the air. 

This time, he did slow down, very gradually. He shushed you and calmed you, turning the vibrator off and tossing it to the side, bringing his hand back up to your back, rubbing up and down. Eventually, he pulled the dildo out of you, licking it clean before setting it on the bed next to you. If you hadn’t been fully drained, that action alone would have sent you coming all over again. 

“Atta girl… that’s my good girl. You took it so well, baby. So, so well. You’re so pretty when you come for me, you know that?” He asked. His earlier, commanding tone was gone, now replaced with soothing soft coos. 

“Th-thank you…” You said softly, still shaking as you came down from your high.

He chuckled softly as he began to ease the plug out of you as well. “No, thank you for letting me do this with you.”

The plug slid out much easier than it had gone in, the laxness of your body surely helping. He leaned down, pressing a small kiss to your ass cheek before speaking again. “I’m gonna go get some towels and a change of clothes, okay? Lay down, doll, you’re okay. I’ve got you. I love you.” He cooed, pushing you down gently so you were laying on your stomach on the bed. You nodded, still on cloud nine, shutting your eyes. He chuckled softly again. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me yet, pretty girl. It’ll be much more comfy in my arms. Just a little longer, mmkay?” He coaxed, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your head before petting you, turning on his heels to clean up as quickly as possible. The only thing he needed right now was the feeling of you in his arms, fucked out and relaxed, all thanks to him, of course. And who knows, maybe you’d leave the door open more often.

[randomhuman6069]

More welcome home toy ideas I have/plan on doing when I get time and materials, another hopping chicken toy for Ms beagle and a polly pocket stage for Sally that I'm hoping to make from a ballerina polly pocket stage I'm getting.

[luveline]

jade to say i’m obsessed with eddie and roan is an understatement. can we see r walk in on eddie and roan having a tea party and the fun that follows - tysm ily!!!

thank you for your request my love! dad!eddie x fem!reader

You're so used to coming home to Eddie in the kitchen that his not being there actually makes you nervous. The feeling doesn't last very long —you can hear him laughing in the living room.

You close the door quietly and slip out of your shoes. You hang your coat and bag on the bannister of the stairs and walk the short distance to the living room door, immediately laying eyes on your very favourite people in the whole world. 

When Eddie and Roan first moved in with you, you gave away your coffee table to make room for some of her toys. Eddie was horrified at first: you were moving in together, and it was scary, and you knew he was scared of you changing your mind, so he hated how many changes you made. The child proof locks on the cleaning supplies cabinet, the new kitchen table with enough seats for all of you, the improvement of your guest bedroom into a princess paradise of silk sheets and fairy lights for Ro. The thing that scared him most of all was the coffee table, worried you were cutting things out of your life for them, worried you would resent him for that. 

You have yet to feel any such emotion. You didn't even really like the coffee table, though that isn't the point. 

Roan's picnic table, painted pink you know by Eddie when she was maybe three years old, is flocked by mismatched chairs. There's a drum stool from a set of drums Eddie doesn't own, a pink and green plastic chair, and a regular wooden stool with a flower painted on the seat. Eddie sits on the flower stool, Roan sits on the pink and green chair like a throne, and the drum stool remains empty, though a Teddy has been propped up on the leg with a saucer in hand. 

"I need more sugar in mine," Eddie says, holding his cup out to Roan. 

She holds court. In her favourite turquoise princess dress that's getting much too small for her, the back button undone, and a plastic tiara you got for her when you barely knew her, Roan takes a little plastic spoon from the table and spoons imaginary sugar into Eddie's teacup. 

"Thanks, babe." 

"You're welcome." 

Eddie doesn't look nearly as royal. He's wearing sweatpants but no shirt on account of the insufferable hot weather, his tattoos always surprising despite having seen them hundreds and hundreds of times. 

There's his simple flock of bats, his demon puppeteer and its puppet on strings. There's the clock over his heart, hands pointing to the time his mother passed. That one shocked you the most, when he told you. He doesn't talk about his mom much. When he does, it's with the reverential adoration of a child who thinks the world was made by their parent, exactly how Roan speaks about Eddie when he's not around. 

And there's his R, for Roan, behind his ear. You can barely see it. You'd paid for it as a birthday present not that long ago, and ever since he's started wearing his hair back more and more, like he wants to show it off. He usually has his hair tied back at work anyways, and the heat today is stickying. 

He’s shirtless but wearing socks, you realise. What a weirdo.

"We could have a real tea party," Eddie suggests. "I'm not busy. I can make some sandwiches and we can have sweet tea?" 

"Y/N will be home soon," she says, shaking her head. 

"She won't mind." 

"No, but she doesn't like sandwiches." 

"Who told you that?" 

"She says they're not big enough." 

"She means when you only eat one and nothing else for your lunch at school, babe. She wants you to eat the crackers and the cut fruit, too, so you're not hungry before you come home." 

Roan shrugs. Eddie shrugs back, laughing, and takes a pretend sip of tea. "Well, excuse me," he says against the lip of his teacup. 

"I like sandwiches," you say, finally breaking your cover. 

Eddie flinches bodily, not having known you were there, his saucer tumbling to the floor. Roan doesn't flinch but she does shout, "Woah!" and stands up from her chair. 

"Sorry, Eddie," you say with a laugh. "I didn't mean to scare you. Sandwiches can be such a spooky business." 

"Loser," he says, standing too. 

Roan climbs onto the couch and up over the back to get her after school hug. You receive her eagerly, her cool lengths of skirt and all her dark curls under your hands as familiar as her smell, baby shampoo, jelly bean body wash, and the pleased laughing sound she makes as she rubs her face against your neck. 

"You used to be so little," you say, propping your cheek on her temple. 

Eddie meets your eyes over her head and grimaces at you. "She's getting older every day." 

"We missed you a lot," Roan says. 

"You did? What for? It's only been a couple of hours." 

"Because we love you and we need you to have dinner." 

You laugh suddenly. It actually hurts, like a cough, "You just wanted me to come home so you could have dinner." 

"Not true," she says, sounding guilty. 

"You not feeding my girl?" you ask. 

"We had a whole bag of honey barbecue chips waiting!" Eddie denies, rounding the couch to kiss your cheek. "And they were awesome and we didn't save any for you. Suck it." 

"Mean." 

"Will you come and have a cup of tea?" Roan asks you, taking on a posh effect. 

"Oh, I'd be delighted," you croon in a bad proper accent. 

Roan beams, overjoyed, and bounces back down onto the couch. You sit down at her tea table as Eddie leaves for the kitchen, calling, "Two minutes, I'm making some sandwiches for my poor hungry offspring!" 

He returns with a plate of big sandwiches, another bag of chips, and a jug of sweet tea you'd been steeping in the fridge. Your stomach rumbles as soon as you set eyes on the food and Roan is the same: Eddie sets the sandwiches down between you, and you and Roan descend on them like piranhas scenting blood. 

He gathers the tea cups and the small teapot and takes them to the kitchen. They're damp when he brings them back and sits down, "Ready for tea," he says. "All clean." 

Eddie pours tea from the jug into the teapot and allows Roan the honour of pouring it into your cups. She's ecstatic. He's made her incredibly, overwhelmingly happy with such a small gesture, her little face contorted by the force of her smile. 

"For you, good sir," she says, lifting her teapot from Eddie's cup. 

"Thank you, madam," he says. 

She lifts her pert chin. "Of course, Mister Munson. Tea, lady?" she asks you. 

Your mouth is so full of sandwich you can barely speak. "Yes, please." 

She chuffs happily and fills your cup. Eddie leans across the table to tuck her wild hair behind her ears, all the gentleness of a devoted father but all the expertise of someone who's had to corral unruly curls for more than twenty years. 

"Please get off," she says. 

Eddie tucks his hands under his thighs, properly chastised. "Sorry, babe." 

"It's okay. Do you want chips?" 

"Not in my tea, right?" 

"No, dad, with your sandwich, duh."

"Duh," you echo. 

He reaches under the table to punch your thigh. You jump and ram your knee into the table, tea sloshing over the sides of your cups. Roan squeals in horror, while Eddie laughs and pinches you again.

[bucksaiga]

Billy couldn't be discharged from the hospital unless he had somewhere to stay and someone to care for him.

He could hardly move on his own, needed medication and was haunted by nightmares. Simply put, he couldn't do this on his own even if tried.

The Byers moved to California, he learned, wishing he could have gone with them.

Joyce said he was more than welcome to join them when he didn't require as much medical care. Traveling in his condition was dangerous anyway.

Steve's parents ranted and raved about how incompetent Steve was and he wasn't capable of being a full-time nurse for anyone when he could hardly take care of himself. Steve just believed it was an excuse for them to say no. While Billy was in the hospital recovering, Steve was constantly by his side. The rumors spread, and everyone knew there was something between them, but Steve didn't care. He loved Billy and promised he'd check on him everyday, no matter where he was.

Mike offered up his basement, and Billy told him he would rather get flayed again than stay in his house. He'd never explain why, though.

The obvious option would be for Billy to go home, but Neil didn't want to be bothered. He called Billy a "burden" and told him to check himself into an adult care home. As much as Max hated it, she had no say in the matter.

That left Mrs. Henderson, who, upon learning Billy had nowhere else to go, offered him the spare bedroom in their house. She was recently laid off, and took a job from home stuffing envelopes.

Billy received a generous amount of hush money from the government, and was willing to pay for the room.

The first night was a little awkward. Billy had never spoken to Mrs. Henderson before, and he hadn't spoken to Dustin very much, aside from some small talk when he visited him at the hospital.

He was in too much pain to sit upright at the dinner table, so Claudia propped him up on his bed and convinced dustin to join her in keeping Billy company.

They ate together and watched Shadowlands, which Dustin and Billy found dreadfully boring.

As Claudia had her back to them, Dustin turned to Billy, mouthing about how boring the movie was.

They tried to hide their laughter, pretending to enjoy the movie when Claudia turned back to look at them.

"Wanna see something cool?" Dustin whispered.

Billy nodded. He doubted anything Dustin would show him would be cool, but he was wrong.

Dustin was working on some figurines for D&D and Billy thought they looked pretty badass.

Claudia turned to them again, smiling. "So I was watching the movie all by myself, hm?" "Sorry, mom. I thought Billy would want to see some of the stuff I was working on and—"

"It's alright, Dusty. You boys have fun playing with your toys, I'll clean the dishes."

"They're not toys mom, they're..." Dustin sighed. "She doesn't get it."

"At least she's here."

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, she's a great mom! Hey, d'you like comic books?"

"Max used to leave them lying around and I'd look at them. They're okay, I guess."

"Wait here—I mean...sorry. I forgot you...couldn't move." Dustin winced.

Billy sighed, brushing off Dustin's awkward comment. "Bring me a drink while you're up."

"You got it!"

Billy watched Dustin run out of the room, then glanced down at Dustin's figurines.

"Steve will get a kick out of knowing his best friend likes me."

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances: Forever - Part Three of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in the grocery store brought a whirlwind of change to Beau Arlen’s life—change he had no issues with whatsoever. A second chance at life, love, family—a second chance at forever. Word Count: 6,022 Tags/Warnings: 18+ smut/implied smut, lots of fluff, tiny bit of police work A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

NOTE: It’s here! Welcome, welcome to Second Chances: Forever! I have no idea how long this story will go on, and that is okay with me! I’ve been loving and enjoying writing Beau and his little corner of life! So like I said, until I get burnt out (unlikely) or run out of ideas (also unlikely), it’s ongoing! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Three: Change Of Plans

The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the bedroom as Y/N lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The house was still quiet, the kids not yet awake, and Beau was curled beside her, his hand resting against her waist in sleep.

Tomorrow, she was supposed to go back to work.

But as she lay there, lost in thought, she felt an unease settle deep in her chest. She had spent the past week juggling sick children, endless sleepless nights, and the overwhelming need to be present for both Caleb and Eliza. And now, the thought of stepping back into work, of trying to split her time between her career and motherhood, felt… impossible.

Not just difficult—impossible.

She turned slightly, her eyes drifting to Beau’s sleeping form. His face was relaxed, his breaths deep and steady, his trimmed beard catching the soft morning light. He had been her rock through all of this, always stepping in when she needed him. And yet, she knew she still carried most of the weight at home. Not because he didn’t help—he did, more than most husbands probably would—but because there was simply too much to balance.

Something had to give.

And for the first time, she realized she wasn’t ready to return to work—not yet.

She needed to be home with their kids. Not just for a few days when they were sick, not just when daycare wouldn’t take them—she needed to be their constant for a while. She needed to be there for Caleb’s first real steps, for Eliza’s preschool moments, for the small, everyday things that working full-time had made her miss.

But would Beau be okay with that?

Y/N’s fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket as she swallowed hard. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he would support her—it was just that she had never really considered not working. She had always been someone who balanced both. But now, she could feel it deep in her bones—this was the right decision.

Now, she just had to tell him.

Beau woke not long after, stretching with a deep sigh before rolling onto his side, his green eyes immediately finding hers. “Mornin’, darlin’.”

“Morning,” Y/N murmured, offering him a small smile.

He frowned slightly, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “You’re thinkin’ about somethin’ heavy. What’s on your mind?”

She inhaled deeply, her heart hammering. “Beau… I don’t think I’m ready to go back to work tomorrow.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, giving her his full attention. “Okay,” he said slowly, his brows knitting together. “What are you thinkin’, then?”

Y/N swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I think… I want to stay home. Not just for a few more days—but for a while. Maybe a couple of years, until Caleb’s older, until Eliza’s settled in school. Juggling work and the kids… it’s getting harder, and I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m stretched too thin.”

Beau’s expression softened immediately, and she could see the understanding in his eyes before he even spoke. “Darlin’,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “You don’t have to convince me. If this is what you need, then I’m all for it.”

Relief flooded her so quickly that she almost teared up. “Really?”

“Of course,” Beau said firmly. “I see how much you do, how much you give to all of us. If staying home with the kids is what makes the most sense for you, for them—then that’s what we’ll do.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, squeezing his hand. “I was scared you’d think I was giving up.”

Beau chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not a chance. Darlin’, raisin’ kids is the hardest job there is. You’re not givin’ up—you’re just shiftin’ where you put your energy. And honestly? It makes sense.”

She let out a small laugh, blinking away the sting of tears. “I feel like I needed to hear that.”

Beau sat up fully, tugging her into his lap so she was straddling him. His hands settled gently on her waist as he pressed his forehead against hers. “You’re incredible, Y/N. And I don’t ever want you feelin’ like you’re not doin’ enough. This is our family. We make the decisions together.”

She nodded, closing her eyes as she soaked in his warmth. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “But I do have one promise I want to make.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, searching his face. “What is it?”

Beau’s hands slid up her back, his expression turning serious. “I’m not gonna let you do it alone.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Beau said softly, “bein’ a stay-at-home parent is hard work. And I don’t want you runnin’ yourself into the ground while I just go to work and come home expectin’ everything to be done. So, when I get off shift, I’m gonna help. Whether it’s makin’ dinner, givin’ baths, cleanin’ up—I’m not leavin’ you to handle it all.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, and she cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs tracing the sharp edges of his jaw. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Beau grinned, leaning in to kiss her fully. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered, resting her forehead against his. “And I feel so much lighter now.”

“You should,” Beau murmured. “This is gonna be good for us. For the kids. And if we ever need to shift again, we’ll do it together.”

Y/N exhaled deeply, letting the weight of the past few days finally lift. “Together.”

Beau kissed her one more time before gently shifting her off his lap. “Now, c’mon. Let’s go get some coffee before the kids wake up and chaos starts all over again.”

Y/N laughed softly, taking his hand as they got out of bed. “You read my mind.”

As they walked to the kitchen, hand in hand, Y/N felt lighter than she had in weeks. She didn’t know what the future would hold, but for now, she knew she was exactly where she needed to be.

And that was enough.

The house was finally quiet.

The faint hum of the baby monitor sat on the nightstand, a soft reminder that their little ones were fast asleep. The warmth of the dim bedside lamp bathed the room in a golden glow, but Beau hardly noticed it. He lay stretched out on the bed, his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

Y/N was in the bathroom, washing up before bed, and for the first time in what felt like days, he had a moment to just think.

Life was changing.

Not just a little—not in small ways that barely made a dent in their routine. Really changing.

With Y/N staying home, things would be different. Finances might get a little tight, but they’d be okay. They had enough saved, and Beau had always been smart with his money. It wasn’t like they lived extravagantly. They could cut back where needed, and he’d take on some extra shifts if things ever got too tight. He wasn’t worried about the money—not really.

What weighed on him more was making sure Y/N didn’t feel stuck.

She was making the choice, but he knew her. He knew how she second-guessed herself, how she sometimes carried guilt that wasn’t hers to bear. He never wanted her to feel like she was sacrificing something she loved just for the sake of keeping everything running smoothly.

But at the same time… he loved knowing she’d be home.

Not because he thought it was a “woman’s job” or because he expected her to take on the burden of raising the kids alone. No—he loved knowing that their children would have her steady presence every single day, that she wouldn’t be running herself ragged trying to juggle work and parenting at the same time. He loved knowing she would have time to just be—to breathe, to enjoy the moments that slipped away so fast when work took over.

And selfishly?

He loved that they would have more time together.

Lately, between work, the kids, and everything in between, their time alone had been cut short. It wasn’t like it used to be, before Caleb was born, when they could steal an hour in the middle of the day or spend lazy mornings wrapped up in each other. Now, they were both so exhausted by the time they climbed into bed that intimacy had taken a back seat—not for lack of love, just for lack of energy.

But now?

Now there was a chance to get some of that time back.

Beau wouldn’t ever object to more intimacy—not just the physical part, though that was definitely something he’d missed—but the quiet, lingering touches. The stolen kisses in the kitchen while the kids played, the way she used to run her fingers through his hair after a long day, the nights where they lay tangled together, just talking until they fell asleep.

Those were the things he missed.

And as he lay there, listening to the water shut off in the bathroom, he realized just how much he wanted those moments back.

The door creaked open, and Y/N stepped out, her hair still damp from her shower, her body wrapped in one of his worn T-shirts that hung loosely over her frame. She looked tired but peaceful, her face free of the stress that had weighed her down all week.

Beau sat up slightly, his green eyes tracking her every movement as she padded over to the bed. “You okay?”

She smiled softly, sliding under the covers beside him. “Yeah,” she murmured, settling against his chest. “Just tired.”

Beau wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer until she fit perfectly against him. He brushed his fingers over her arm, tracing small, lazy circles against her skin. “Been thinkin’ about things,” he admitted.

Y/N lifted her head slightly, her eyes warm and curious. “Good things?”

He nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. About you stayin’ home. How things are gonna change.”

She sighed softly, relaxing into his touch. “I know it won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth doin’ ever is,” he said simply. “But I know we’ll be okay.”

Y/N tilted her head, looking up at him. “You’re really okay with this?”

Beau cupped her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Darlin’, I want this for you. For us. For the kids.” His voice softened. “You’re not givin’ up anything. You’re makin’ a choice—for all of us. And I love you for it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and he could see the emotion in her eyes. “I love you too, Beau.”

He kissed her then—soft, slow, lingering. It wasn’t hurried or desperate, just full of quiet understanding and love. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “And just so you know, I’m not lettin’ you do this alone. I’ll be helpin’ more around here. I don’t want you thinkin’ just ‘cause I go to work, you gotta handle everything else by yourself.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, but he could tell it meant something to her. “You already do a lot.”

“I can do more,” Beau said, his voice serious. “And I will.”

She ran her fingers along his jaw, her touch featherlight. “You’re a good man, Beau Arlen.”

He smirked. “Damn right, I am.”

She laughed softly, tucking herself back against him. “You know… it does feel good to know we’ll have more time together.”

Beau hummed in agreement, his hand running slow, soothing strokes down her back. “Yeah. I was thinkin’ about that too.”

“Oh?” she teased, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. “And what exactly were you thinkin’?”

His smirk deepened, and he kissed her again, this time just a little deeper. “That I wouldn’t object to us findin’ more ways to spend that time.”

Y/N flushed, but she laughed quietly, curling back into his chest. “I wouldn’t object either.”

Beau chuckled, tightening his hold on her. “Good. Just makin’ sure we’re on the same page.”

She sighed contentedly, nuzzling into him. “Always.”

As they lay there, tangled together in the warmth of their bed, Beau knew this was the right path. The changes ahead might not always be easy, but they had each other. And as long as that was true, he knew they’d be just fine.

More than fine.

They’d be happy.

And Beau wouldn’t trade that for anything.

The house was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The baby monitor was quiet, a rare but welcome silence filling the room. The past week had been exhausting, but tonight, for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt at ease.

She lay in bed, curled into Beau’s side, tracing slow, absentminded patterns on his chest. He was warm, solid, and steady beneath her fingertips, and for the first time in days, neither of them were too exhausted to enjoy simply being with each other.

Beau let out a slow breath, his fingers grazing the curve of her back beneath the hem of his T-shirt—her shirt now, since she always stole the softest ones from his drawer. “Feels like it’s been forever since we’ve had a night like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in the quiet.

Y/N hummed in agreement, her hand sliding up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Too long.”

Beau turned his head, brushing his lips over her forehead, then down to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her mouth. “We’ve been runnin’ on fumes,” he admitted.

Y/N sighed softly, pressing her body closer to his. “I missed you.”

“I’m right here, darlin’.” His voice was warm, deep, steady.

And he was there—always.

She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against his, hesitant at first, testing, almost as if making sure they could still find each other. But Beau wasn’t hesitant at all. His hands slid along her back, pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss until she felt herself melt against him.

He rolled them gently, his body pressing her into the mattress as his lips traveled down her throat, his trimmed beard leaving a faint tickle against her skin. She sighed, her fingers threading into his hair as he kissed the delicate spot just below her ear.

“We used to be so good at this,” Y/N murmured, her voice laced with something between amusement and longing.

Beau chuckled, his lips ghosting over her collarbone. “We still are, darlin’.”

And as he kissed her again, slow and deep, Y/N felt the truth in his words.

They had been tired, consumed by life’s responsibilities, but this—them—had never faded. It had only been waiting, simmering beneath the surface, ready to be found again.

Beau’s hands slid down her sides, his touch reverent and unhurried. They had nowhere to be, no reason to rush. It wasn’t about making up for lost time—it was about savoring the moment they had now.

Y/N let out a soft sigh as Beau’s lips trailed down her neck, his hands exploring familiar places with renewed appreciation. He wasn’t just touching her—he was memorizing her again, rediscovering every little reaction, every quiet sigh, every way she fit perfectly against him.

His name slipped from her lips in a whispered breath, and Beau groaned against her skin. “Missed hearin’ that,” he murmured, his voice rough with want.

Y/N cupped his face, guiding his lips back to hers, her body arching against him as she deepened the kiss. “Then let’s make up for lost time.”

Beau smirked against her lips. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

And as they lost themselves in each other, the world outside faded, leaving only them—wrapped in warmth, in love, in everything that made them them.

It wasn’t just about passion. It was about reconnection. About finding each other after days of exhaustion, about remembering that even through the hardest moments, they still chose each other.

And as they lay tangled together long into the night, Beau vowed to himself that he’d never take this—her—for granted.

He would always find his way back to her.

Just like she always found her way back to him.

The soft golden light of dawn crept through the curtains, casting long streaks of warmth across the bedroom. The house was quiet, save for the occasional sleepy sigh from the baby monitor. Y/N stretched lazily beneath the sheets, her body still heavy with the warmth of sleep—and the lingering contentment of last night.

She turned her head slightly, expecting to find Beau still beside her, but his side of the bed was empty, the blankets pushed back. She frowned, blinking sleepily before propping herself up on one elbow.

The scent of coffee and something sweet drifted through the air, and she smiled. Of course.

Slipping out of bed, she padded down the hallway, the wooden floors cool beneath her bare feet. The faint sound of laughter met her ears as she neared the kitchen, and when she stepped into the doorway, her heart melted.

Beau stood at the stove, one arm securely wrapped around Caleb, who was nestled against his chest, sucking lazily on his thumb. In his other hand, Beau expertly flipped a pancake, looking perfectly at ease despite the baby attached to him.

Eliza sat at the counter, her little legs swinging as she happily stacked small toy animals into a “zoo.” “Bo-Bo, can I have a big pancake?”

Beau chuckled. “Darlin’, I’m makin’ ‘em big as your head.”

Eliza giggled, clapping her hands together. “Yay!”

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her smile soft and full. “Now this is a sight to wake up to.”

Beau turned, a slow, easy grin spreading across his face. His green eyes swept over her, taking in her messy hair, his T-shirt draped over her frame. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he drawled, stepping toward her. He pressed a warm kiss to her temple, his trimmed beard brushing against her skin. “Sleep good?”

“Very,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist, careful not to squish Caleb between them. “Woke up to an empty bed, though.”

Beau chuckled. “Figured you deserved to sleep in after last night.” His voice dipped slightly, teasing.

Y/N flushed, biting back a grin. “And what exactly are you implying, Sheriff?”

Beau smirked, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “Just that I aim to please, Mrs. Arlen.”

She swatted at his chest playfully before turning her attention to Caleb, who blinked sleepily at her, his chubby cheek squished against Beau’s chest. “How’s my little man this morning?”

“Less fussy,” Beau reported, bouncing him gently. “Still a little clingy, though.”

Y/N took Caleb from him, settling the baby against her hip. “I don’t mind,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to his soft curls. “I’ll take all the baby snuggles while I can.”

Beau grinned, flipping another pancake onto a growing stack. “Well, you’ll have to eat while you can too, darlin’. Made your favorite.”

Y/N’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the warm, golden pancakes stacked on a plate. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Beau said smugly, winking.

Eliza giggled from her seat. “Bo-Bo is silly.”

“That’s why you love me,” Beau said, booping her nose playfully before setting the food down on the table.

They all sat together, the morning sun streaming in through the kitchen window as they ate. Caleb, now more awake, clapped his tiny hands as Y/N fed him small bites of pancake. Eliza talked animatedly about her stuffed wolf’s “big adventure” through the house, while Beau listened, nodding along with the utmost seriousness.

Y/N watched them, warmth filling her chest. This—this—was everything.

As they finished breakfast, Beau reached over and laced his fingers with hers, his grip firm and reassuring. He didn’t have to say anything—his eyes said it all.

They were in this together.

And as Y/N squeezed his hand, looking around at their little family, she knew that no matter what challenges came their way, they had everything they needed right here.

Together.

The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, casting golden streaks across the sheets. Y/N stirred slightly, her body instinctively reaching for the warmth of Beau beside her—except he wasn’t there.

She blinked sleepily, her mind slowly registering the silence in the house.

Silence.

The kids are still asleep?

She shot up slightly, glancing at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Caleb and Eliza’s rooms were quiet, no babbling or tiny footsteps padding down the hallway. No sudden shrieks for attention. No toys being hurled against walls.

Y/N let out a slow, contented sigh and sank back into the pillows. This is a miracle.

From down the hall, she heard the faint sound of the shower running, followed a few minutes later by the creak of the floorboards as Beau stepped into the bedroom. He was already dressed for work, his sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest, his belt strapped around his waist. His trimmed beard was still slightly damp from his morning routine, and he looked entirely too handsome for someone heading off to chase down small-town nonsense.

“Hey, darlin’,” Beau murmured, leaning down to press a warm kiss to her forehead. “Kids still asleep?”

Y/N hummed in response, keeping her eyes closed as she stretched luxuriously. “Mmhm. This is the best morning ever.”

Beau chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Glad you’re gettin’ a little extra rest. You deserve it.”

She cracked one eye open, smiling up at him. “You leavin’ now?”

“Yeah,” Beau sighed, adjusting his belt. “Gotta get in before Jenny starts complainin’ about how I’m always late.”

Y/N smirked. “You are always late.”

“Only because I’ve got the best distractions at home.”

She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Be safe, Sheriff.”

Beau kissed her once more, slow and lingering. “I always am, darlin’.”

And with that, he grabbed his hat, tipped it at her with a wink, and headed out the door.

Beau barely made it through the door of the sheriff’s department before chaos greeted him.

Jenny stood by the front desk, arms crossed, an amused smirk on her face as Doris—who was supposed to be working—was instead crying with laughter.

“What the hell did I walk into?” Beau asked, arching a brow as he set his coffee down.

Jenny gestured toward the holding cell, where a very irritated man in a flannel shirt sat, arms crossed, covered in chicken feathers.

“Sheriff,” Doris wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye, “we got ourselves a situation.”

Beau pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me this ain’t about a damn chicken.”

“Oh, it’s about a chicken, alright,” Jenny said, barely holding back a laugh.

The man in the cell huffed. “Damn thing attacked me.”

Beau squinted at him. “What… exactly are we talkin’ about here?”

Jenny, already enjoying this far too much, handed Beau a police report. “So, Mr. Coleman here went over to his neighbor’s property—uninvited, might I add—to confront him about ‘excessively loud clucking’ coming from his chicken coop.”

Beau groaned, already regretting his career choices. “And?”

Jenny grinned. “And the rooster—whom I’ve been informed is named Satan—took offense to the intrusion and proceeded to launch itself at Mr. Coleman’s face.”

Doris cackled. “You shoulda seen it on the security footage! Thing flew at him like a damn eagle.”

Beau slowly turned back to the man in the cell. “You trespassed on someone’s property… and got your ass handed to you by a chicken?”

Coleman scowled. “It was vicious! Thing came outta nowhere, beak first—went straight for my eyes!”

Beau stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “Jenny, please tell me we’re not bookin’ him for losin’ a fight to a rooster.”

“Nah,” Jenny smirked. “Just holdin’ him ‘til he cools off. Neighbor declined to press charges, but Coleman here was real aggressive when we showed up.”

Beau shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned back toward his office. “I swear, this town…”

“You love it,” Jenny called after him.

Beau didn’t dignify her with an answer, but the smirk tugging at his lips was enough.

By lunchtime, Beau had already dealt with two more ridiculous calls—a woman accusing her neighbor of “stealing her garden gnome’s soul” (don’t ask), and a guy who tried to ride his ATV through a car wash.

So, when he finally had a quiet moment, he leaned back in his chair and pulled out his phone, dialing Y/N’s number.

It rang a few times before she picked up, her voice warm and relaxed. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. “How’s my favorite stay-at-home parent?”

Y/N chuckled softly. “I’m thriving. The kids let me sleep in, I had coffee while it was still hot, and I might actually have time to read today.”

Beau grinned. “Sounds like you’re adjustin’ just fine.”

“I think I am,” Y/N admitted, her voice full of something light—something that hadn’t been there in a while. “I thought I’d struggle with the transition, but honestly? I feel… peaceful.”

Beau’s chest tightened, warmth spreading through him. “That’s all I ever wanted for you, darlin’.”

“I know.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N’s voice took on a teasing edge. “So, how’s your day been?”

Beau exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s just say I had to break up a fight between a grown man and a rooster named Satan.”

Y/N lost it, her laughter ringing through the phone. “I’m sorry—what?!”

Beau groaned. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“Oh, you better,” she giggled. “I can’t wait to hear this one.”

Beau chuckled, shaking his head. “Love you, darlin’.”

“Love you too, Sheriff.”

And as he hung up, he thought to himself—yeah, life was good.

Even with flying attack chickens.

By the time Beau pulled into the driveway, the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip behind the trees, casting long golden streaks across the yard. He let out a slow sigh, rubbing his temples as he shut off the engine. It had been a day.

Between Satan the attack rooster, the feuding neighbors, and the guy who somehow got stuck in a vending machine (don’t ask), Beau was more than ready to be home.

He stepped out of the truck, grabbed his hat from the dashboard, and stretched his back with a satisfied groan before making his way inside. The moment he opened the door, the warm, familiar scent of home wrapped around him—something savory cooking on the stove, the faint hint of laundry detergent, and the subtle floral scent of Y/N’s lotion lingering in the air.

This was what made the insanity of his day worth it.

“Daddy!”

Beau barely had time to brace himself before Eliza came barreling down the hallway, her stuffed wolf tucked under one arm, her curls bouncing wildly. He scooped her up with ease, laughing as she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

“Hey, wolf-child,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Did you have a good day with Mama?”

Eliza nodded enthusiastically. “We made cookies! I put extra chocolate chips!”

“Well, now that sounds like the best kind of cookie,” Beau said, grinning. “Where’s Mama and Caleb?”

Eliza wriggled out of his arms, grabbing his hand instead. “Come see!”

She dragged him toward the kitchen, where Y/N stood at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled like heaven. Caleb was in his high chair, banging a spoon against the tray with great enthusiasm.

Y/N glanced up, and the warm smile she gave him instantly eased every last bit of stress from his body. “Hey, Sheriff,” she murmured, wiping her hands on a dish towel before walking over to him.

Beau wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a slow, lingering kiss that made Eliza giggle and Caleb babble loudly in protest.

“You okay?” Y/N asked softly, brushing a hand along his jaw.

Beau smirked. “Long day. But comin’ home to this makes it all worth it.”

Y/N tilted her head, grinning. “Did you survive Satan?”

Beau groaned. “You told her?”

Y/N laughed, looping her arms around his neck. “Oh, absolutely. I was waiting all day for the full story.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he kissed her again. “I swear, this town is gonna put me in an early grave.”

“Well,” she teased, tapping his chest, “you married the right woman to keep you sane.”

Beau grinned. “Damn right, I did.”

Dinner was exactly what Beau needed—hot, home-cooked, and full of laughter.

Eliza talked a mile a minute about her day with Mama, dramatically reenacting how she heroically saved one of her stuffed animals from Caleb’s grasp. Caleb, for his part, happily smeared mashed potatoes across his tray, humming contentedly as he did so.

Y/N, seated across from Beau, kept sneaking amused glances at him as he dutifully listened to Eliza’s long-winded story about how important it is to keep stuffed animals safe from baby brothers.

Beau nodded seriously. “Sounds like a tough job, wolf-child.”

Eliza sighed dramatically. “It is!”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “She takes her responsibilities very seriously.”

Beau grinned, reaching across the table to squeeze Y/N’s hand. “Wonder where she gets that from.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but squeezed his hand back.

After dinner, Beau cleaned up while Y/N handled bath time—which, based on the splashing sounds from the bathroom, meant Caleb had just discovered the joy of creating miniature tidal waves.

Sure enough, when she emerged, she was damp, and Caleb was looking far too pleased with himself.

Beau smirked, leaning against the counter. “Rough bath?”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Our son is a menace.”

Beau chuckled, taking Caleb from her arms. “He gets it from you.”

Y/N scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Beau kissed her forehead before carrying Caleb toward the nursery. “You heard me, darlin’.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she followed.

Once both kids were tucked in, the house finally settled into a peaceful quiet. Beau and Y/N found themselves curled up on the couch, her legs draped over his lap, his hand resting on her thigh as they sipped their tea.

“You know,” Beau murmured, running a slow hand up and down her leg, “I’m really likin’ this whole stay-at-home-mama thing you’ve got goin’ on.”

Y/N smirked over the rim of her mug. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Beau gave her a lazy grin. “More time with you, for one. House smells like heaven when I come home. And, well…” He waggled his brows. “A man wouldn’t object to more alone time with his wife.”

Y/N laughed, setting her tea down. “Are you saying you’re thriving in this new arrangement?”

Beau smirked, setting his own mug aside before pulling her into his lap. “I’m sayin’ I wouldn’t object to seein’ where the night takes us.”

Y/N looped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the short hair at his nape. “I suppose I can get behind that idea.”

Beau chuckled, his lips brushing against hers. “Thought you might.”

As their laughter faded into something softer, something deeper, Beau was reminded once again—

No matter how crazy his day got, no matter how many damn animals he had to wrangle—this was what mattered.

His wife. His family.

His home.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the house as Beau pulled into the driveway, stretching his neck as he killed the engine. It had been a long day, but nothing compared to the chaos that came with raising two little ones. Even on his toughest days at work, coming home was his favorite part.

When he stepped inside, the comforting scent of dinner greeted him, along with the soft murmur of the baby monitor on the counter. Before he could call out to Y/N, tiny feet pattered across the hardwood floor, and Eliza appeared in the hallway, gripping her stuffed wolf in one hand and rubbing her sleepy eyes with the other.

“Daddy,” she mumbled, her voice groggy but excited.

Beau knelt down and scooped her up, kissing her temple. “Hey, wolf-child. You just wake up from a nap?”

Eliza nodded against his shoulder, then peeked up at him. “Mama makin’ soup.”

“Mm, that sounds real good,” Beau said, standing up with her still in his arms. “You been helpin’ her?”

Eliza nodded again, resting her head on his shoulder. “‘M good helper.”

Beau grinned, ruffling her curls. “I bet you are.”

He walked toward the kitchen, where Y/N stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup. She turned when she heard him, a smile spreading across her face. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her, careful not to jostle Eliza. “Smells amazing.”

Y/N chuckled. “Eliza helped stir before her nap. She takes her job very seriously.”

Beau smirked. “Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

Just then, a happy babble sounded from the high chair, and Beau turned to find Caleb waving his chubby hands in the air, kicking his little legs as he spotted him.

“Well, hey there, little man,” Beau said, setting Eliza down before making his way over to Caleb. He leaned down, brushing a hand over the baby’s soft hair. “You been givin’ your mama a hard time today?”

Caleb let out an excited squeal, then grinned up at him. “Ba-ba-ba…”

Beau chuckled. “Yeah? Got a lot to say, huh?”

Caleb clapped his hands together, then paused, tilting his head before letting out a loud, clear—

“Da.”

The room froze.

Y/N gasped softly, her eyes going wide. Eliza, who had just climbed into her chair, perked up.

Beau blinked, his breath catching in his chest. “What’d you just say, buddy?”

Caleb grinned up at him again. “Da!”

Beau let out a slow breath, his heart swelling. His boy—his baby boy—had just said his first word. And it was him.

Eliza giggled excitedly, clapping her hands. “Cay-bub talkin’!”

Beau scooped Caleb out of his high chair, holding him close. “That’s right, little man. I’m your Da.” His voice was warm, thick with emotion. “Best damn word I ever heard.”

Caleb, thrilled with the reaction, giggled and patted Beau’s face. “Da-da!”

Eliza gasped, her curls bouncing as she clapped again. “He said more!”

Y/N wiped at her eye, laughing softly. “Beau, he’s been trying all day. I think he was just waiting for you to get home.”

Beau swallowed thickly, pressing a firm kiss to Caleb’s head. “Well, buddy, you sure know how to make your old man feel special.”

Caleb babbled happily, tugging at Beau’s collar.

Eliza scrunched her nose. “Now he say ‘E-liza!’”

Y/N bit back a laugh. “Might take him a little longer for that one, baby.”

Beau grinned, settling Caleb against his chest. “I don’t know, wolf-child. He’s a smart little fella. Maybe he’ll surprise us.”

Eliza pouted for a second, then giggled, clearly pleased with the idea.

Y/N stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Beau’s waist, resting her head against his shoulder as she looked at Caleb. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

Beau exhaled, still soaking it in. “More than amazing.”

As they sat down for dinner, the warmth of family filled the house. Caleb, still riding the excitement, babbled “Da-da” repeatedly, making Eliza giggle every time. And as Beau sat at the table, holding his son, listening to his daughter chatter, and feeling Y/N’s fingers lace with his beneath the table, he thought—

Life had never been more perfect.

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[idontknowreallywhy]

(Explanation for this reposting spree here)

Bearded (MIA Series Part 1)

Chapter 1 - Bearded

Awaiting rescue from the prison camp, Scott tries to maintain a grip on the one thing he has a lot of. He just needs to be patient - someone would come soon, right?

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It was the beard that broke his heart.

Scott had three methods of tracking the time he’d been Here.

Absent the first couple of days or so where he’d been dragged from building to building… he’d always ended up Here at the end of the day. ‘Here’ being the 2x3m concrete box with a steel door on one side and a tiny grate to the outside, about 3m up on the other. This seemed precisely positioned to let in plenty of chilly breeze but very little light. Another couple of days passed before he realised it was definitely the same cell… the bloody stain where his head had hit the wall as they’d slung him in one evening was there the next. To welcome him home.

He had always had a good memory for images and so he started out by creating a mind palace. He imagined his old bedroom at Gran Roca. Each day as the light started to trickle in, he added another object which didn’t belong but which gave him a moment of peace. Gordon’s stuffed shark on the pillow, Virgil’s painting overalls hung over the back of the chair, John’s telescope at the window, Alan’s old rocket teething toy he still clung to aged 7 propped up on the desk. Each morning he pictured it, listed and counted the objects and added one more.

But some days he was so hazy he worried he would forget something. Maybe Virgil’s easel had been there all along and he’d counted it twice. So on day ten he cast about for something outside his own head he could mark the time with.

Another defining feature of Here was that floor was particularly gritty compared to some of the other rooms/labs/holding pens. He’d cursed it many times as he’d stumbled through the door and taken more skin from limbs that didn’t have a lot to spare.

He could use that.

Sweeping an area clear in one corner, he made a tiny almost invisible pile of grit as the light entering the cell began to disappear each day. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen… on the Fifteenth day he swept them all into a bigger pile and started again. Sixteen, Seventeen… Eighteen, Nineteen…

On the twentieth day he suddenly panicked that he could roll over in a fitful sleep and brush it all away. Or the breeze could betray him in more ways than just chilling his bones. So he instituted another back up. For every 5th day he also made a mark on the back of the door where they’d never look. That same mark on the wall reminded him he did have one kind of ink in plentiful supply. Even on the rare occasions there was none fresh there were plenty of barely healed wounds he could reopen with a flick of a broken fingernail.

Twenty. Twenty Five, Thirty. Thirty Five. Forty.

On day 41 the first tendrils of doubt began to weave their way through. He’d expected a couple of weeks, maybe three or four… he’d been air support on two retrieval missions so far so he knew they took a bit to plan and resource. Maybe this was particularly tricky, so maybe it could be four before they came. Maybe five?

Initially he blamed his counting. Maybe he’d doubled up some days - maybe mistook a floodlight for Dawn, or a cloud passing over the sun for dusk. He needed some other more reliable method.

He sat in the corner and ran his hands through his unruly hair and matching beard and tried to make himself look respectable. And then his heart froze and sank into his gut where it thrashed painfully against his other organs. He’d never had much success with facial hair, it grew so slowly and patchily. He’d stopped shaving for charity one month and in 31 days it was still pretty threadbare fluff and he got rid of it with a sigh of relief as soon as the challenge was completed. This… this was A Beard.

On day 41… or maybe it was 51 or 61… he began to believe they might just… not… come.

Surely Ash and Val would raise hell, his whole squadron would. Their Group Captain wouldn’t let him rot.

And if not them… Dad… he’d raise hell and then do it himself if necessary. He’d imagined that gruff voice at the door so many times. Of course he hoped Dad wouldn’t have to because the thought he could be hurt was… unacceptable. But he would do something. Someone would launch a rescue soon.

Unless they thought there was no rescue to effect. He squeezed his eyes as he recalled attending the empty coffin funeral of a colleague he’d never known. The pomp and gravitas so hollow and…pointless. The eyes of the man’s family so dark with sleepless grief as they accepted the flag and tried to summarise a life in halting, pain-filled words to a crowd of uniformed people all praying they wouldn’t be next.

Had they… had they done that for him?

Had someone called it? Drawn a line?

Changed the M to a K?

Had his family stood in the front row and listened to a bugle and mourned him?

He could see their faces and it tore at his soul. He could picture Virgil’s devastated eyes, John’s pallor, Gordon’s tears, Allie’s tantrum at the absence of his big brother hugs and he gasped in horror.

He had to get to them and tell them it wasn’t true.

His bruised and battered body screamed at him as it collided with the steel door. He cursed it into silence and threw himself at the unyielding metal again and again and again…

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