part seven | part eight | part nine

law decides three months into officially dating that you're his girlfriend. he doesn't inform you of this, though. he just goes on with his life. he spends most of his evenings with you if he's not working. you sleep at each other's houses more often than not. you even text him throughout his day. small check-ins, mostly, but he cannot hide his smile every time he sees your name pop up on his phone.

he, for lack of a better word, is so smitten with you. which is why he's currently feeling an odd sort of guilt fester in the pit of his stomach at the idea of telling you he will be away all of next week. yes he had the opportunity to tell you before, but no he did not. and that's his own fault.

"a conference? doctors have conferences?" you question him with a sweet kind of confusion. you're in the middle of washing a mug you used for tea when he drops the bomb. not a major one. nothing close to atomic.

"yes," he answers plainly, leaning on the counter beside your sink.

"for how long?" you ask, and he does cherish this time of cute curiosity you possess because the next bomb is slightly bigger.

"4 days," he shrugs, trying so so hard to be casual.

"what? when?!" you place the mug on the drying rack above your sink. your eyes narrow in his direction. but he remains calm. he refuses to lose control of this situation.

"next week." there's a silence as he watches you think. at this rate, he can see each individual thought cross your brain and morph your expressions into something a little sour.

"in 3 days next week?"

If you read the fic, leave the kudos. Leave a comment too, if possible. Just do it. It takes a few seconds of your time and it means the world to the writer.

Sincerely, me who just got told that my writing feels like watching a blockbuster movie. I don't care if they were sincere or not, I'll be thinking about that comment for the rest of my life and every time I feel bad about my art, I'll remember that someone once liked it.

Because I’m curious…

I love using "by the way" as a segue into topics that are completely unrelated to the matters at hand. it isn't remotely by the way, quite a ways out of the way in fact. a little adventure

He has your eyes, you think. It's hard to tell. The baby is still in its squished phase, curled in on himself and grasping at whatever comes close. Closer to grub than human, you think. His cheeks are still ruddy from crying, but his glassy eyes have finally started to close and he sinks into sleep in your arms. With all of the care you can muster, you take the baby and ease him into the crib, praying that he doesn't wake again.

When he stays silent, you ease back away from the crib and back carefully out of the door. You close the door carefully and sigh as you relish the first moment alone you've had all day-- and then you burst into tears yourself.

"What's wrong?"

Ushijima stands at the top of the stairs, shedding his jacket where he stands. You're almost embarrassed for him to see you like this, disheveled and frankly dirty, your maternity bra undone. He's been your husband for years now, he's seen worse, but this feels worse. His brow is knotted with worry, eyes stone strong as ever as he watches you sniffle. When he steps in, arms outstretched, you step aside, giving way for him to see his baby. Instead, your husband comes to you. Wide hands cup your shoulders, thumbs rubbing up and down a bit too roughly to be comforting.

"Are you alright?"

You nod, lip quivering as you bite back your tears. He inspects you closely, brow raised.

"Are you lying?"

You nod again before bursting into sobs again. It's an ugly cry, all snot and coughs, but your husband doesn't pull away. Instead, he tugs you closer, tight into his chest.

"Tell me." Wakatoshi urges as gently as he can. At first, all you can be is blubber, every exhausted emotion coming to the surface at once. You're tired, you're thirsty, you're seventy other emotions that you can't pin down, but the one that comes out of your mouth first is:

"I'm a bad mom."

"Don't say that," he's quick to say.

"I am." His shirt is wet with tears, but you can't stop. "I'm so tired and thirsty and my boob really hurts and I'm not making enough milk- and, and--"

"I was supposed to love him, Toshi, and I just don't."

Ushijima chuckles, softly enough that you can't hear it, but you can feel how his chest shakes.

"It's not funny!"

"You do love him."

Of course you do. You wanted him more than anything in the world. Years of patience and love brought you this baby, and you wouldn't trade that for the world-

But it's just not what you had expected.

"Not the way I'm supposed to!" You pull back just enough to meet his eye. His brown hair is still mussed with sweat from his game. "It was supposed to be instant and special and perfect, but--"

You swallow down your rising panic and glance back at the door.

"I'm not connecting with him," you admit. You love your son, but he's just a baby. All he does is sleep, eat, and cry. There's no special spark about him, nothing that would make you lift a car or die in his honor. It's hard to feel anything when you're so exhausted.

"I think I'm broken."

Ushijima processes this for a long while, the rub of his thumbs much slower now.

"It's not the same," he says quietly. "But, I've never easily connected with anyone, not even you."

It's true. Ushijima is a good man, but he struggles socially to this day. He turns down outings that he isn't interested in, misses social ques and norms, and can be rude without meaning to.

And yet, people still manage to grow warm to him. Hell, you fell in love with the man after months of despising him.

"That does make me feel better."

"Give it time." He pats your back. "I'll take you to the doctor tomorrow."

"I don't need a doctor, I just need time."

He reaches down and grazss over the bare skin if your tit; you had forgotten it was out. "Your breast is hot to the touch. I can feel it through my shirt."

You pull back and feel for yourself. It is uncomfortably warm; you'd been so distressed that you hadn't noticed. That explains the pain.

"We can't. The baby's too little to bring to the doctor's-- there's too many germs, he'll get sick."

"Tendou will babysit," he replies, like it's simple.

"He lives hours away."

Ushijima's already pulling out his phone. "He will come. Go rest and eat- I'll handle everything tonight."

Coming from him, everything sounds so easy. You're frazzled over the fact you reached such a boiling point; does anyone else struggle like this? Or is it just you?

"Are you sure I'm not a bad mom?" You ask again.

He looks back at you and nods, a smile tight on his lips. "Of course I am."

You believe him.

🐛🐛🐛

he should be biting the back of my shoulder in prone bone rn

18+

osamu always thought coming untouched was locker room talk bullshit.

that is, until a late evening finds the two of you tired and loose, laughing quietly and lazily making out on his couch after years spent on a tightrope of friendship and flirting and what ifs turned to why nots.

until his pants are on the floor and you’re left in nothing but a bra and a short skirt, and you end up in his lap with your legs wrapped around one of his own. you’ve made suggestive jokes about it before—about how stupidly thick and muscled his thighs still are even now, this long after hanging up his volleyball uniform. (about how rideable they look—your words, not his.)

osamu always thought coming untouched was complete and total bullshit—until he grasps your hips from beneath your bunched up skirt and sees the way your jaw falls slack in pleasure when you experimentally rock forward. until you bury your hands in his hair and whimper his name as you drag your bare pussy along his firm thigh again and again with increasing desperation, leaving behind a slick, soaking wet trail of arousal across his skin.

until you’re moaning and trembling against his mouth into a spit-soaked kiss as your pussy gushes with a climax so intense, you nearly break skin where your nails are digging into his back.

until you reach for the zipper of his pants after only to find his boxers soaked through with a messy, hot load of cum, his neglected, throbbing cock already spent of its own accord.

“oh,” he chokes out, voice rough, chest heaving.

should i eat first or shower first *has phone in couch time for another 3 hours due to choice procrastination, a behavioral phenomenon observed in pigeons and rats as well*

i' m something of a pigeons and rats myself

I'm built different. like incorrectly i think

Hes so babygirl failure I love him

@keeper-of-my-heart

@karikarasuno law going back home after not kissing reader 😂