#I don’t know what other tags to add help

[flowersforbucky]

i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Swoon Worthy

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, pregnancy things, minor anxiety, jealousy and per usual a bit of arguing and angsty bits.

A/N: I’m so glad y’all are enjoying this story! It makes me so happy, now don’t be mad okay? It’s gonna be fine just hold on a bit longer I swear Harry is getting it together. Also this chapter is a mix of texts and a one shot yall will have to tell me how you like it?

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy

Summary: You meet Anne and have a super tiny casual run in with someone else and Harry says some a lot of things that he shouldn’t✨

You smile at Nick when he opens the door for you and helps you out of the car, you adjust your purse strap on your shoulder as you look around and notice you’re outside the front gate of a house and not a restaurant. You feel your brows pinch together as you reach into your bag to grab your phone so you can call Harry to make sure you’re at the correct place because why would you be meeting his mom for lunch at some random house and not a restaurant? But before you can find your phone the sound of the gate opening up makes you lift your head just in time to see Harry making his way towards you.

“Harry this is someone’s house.” He just laughs as he gives a nod and a wave to Nick who is still standing behind you.

“You’re so observant. Can’t get anything past you huh?” You roll your eyes as Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Come on you’re already late let’s not keep her waiting any longer.” He says with a smirk that you instantly want to smack off his face as he stands to the side allowing you to walk in front of him.

“Is this your-”

“No it’s not my house it’s my mom’s.” He informs you as the two of you walk up the driveway. “As much as I adore my mother I am a bit too grown for her to be crashing in my guest room when she visits and she likes to spend a good amount of time here so this just made the most sense.” He adds as the two of you make it to the bottom step of her porch.

“It’s lovely.” You tell him with a smile as you look at the exterior of the house, Harry watches you look around for a moment before he walks up the three steps to the front door leaving you near the bottom step looking at a rose bush his mother’s has planted in her flower beds.

“Oh I forgot to mention-” Just as you look up from the rose bush you see the front door open behind him and you feel as if everything after that happens in slow motion. You watch Harry turn and smile at the man who walks out of the door, he quickly gives him a hug and you think you hear something about seeing each other soon but you’re not really sure because right after that you find yourself staring into a very familiar pair of blue eyes as the man stands at the top of the steps and is looking down at you with a warm smile.

“Hello.” His accent is thicker in person than it is when you hear it coming from the television in your living room when you, your neighbor and Paris watch The Voice. He gives you a wave as he makes his way down the steps. “You alight love?” He asks with a hint of concern when he notices you haven’t said anything or moved from your spot in front of the rose bush.

“Uhm hi-you’re uh-uhm hi.” You don’t know if what came out of your mouth were actual words or not but either way it earns you a small chuckle as he reaches a hand out and gently places it on your arm.

“Hi. Lovely to meet you.” He says with a smile before he drops his hand from your arm and you find yourself reaching for the spot he just touched as he turns his head to look at Harry over his shoulder.

“See ya H! Text me about a round next week.” And with that he gives you one more glance and a little nod before he makes his way down the driveway towards the gate. You find yourself turning around and watching him leave and it’s as if he can feel your eyes on him because right before he walks through the gate he looks back and gives you another wave and a smile causing a dreamy sounding sigh to escape you as you just stare in the direction that he walked off in.

Harry watches the whole interaction with a clenched jaw and a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, he’s not sure what it is because never in all the years he’s known his band mate has he ever felt this way while watching him simply meet someone for the first time. He’s watched people practically throw themselves at the man and yet he finds himself more bothered by the way your eyes lit up at and how your cheeks got all pink with just a little greeting and a smile from his Irish friend and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Do you need a moment?” Harry’s voice snaps you back to reality as you turn and face the front of the house. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you with a raised brow.

“That-that was Niall Horan.” Your voice is still a little shaky from the shock of seeing him up close and personal as you point down the driveway towards the gate Niall left through. “He’s so pretty.” You mumble as you look at the spot on your arm that he touched while Harry rolls his eyes and lets out a scoff.

“Really?”

“What? He is.”

“I’m not arguing with you about that I’m just seeing if you’re done swooning over one of my best mates or do you need a few more minutes to wipe the drool off your chin?” You just send him a glare as you make your way up the steps. You know you could’ve handled meeting him a bit better but you weren’t at all prepared and you’re extremely emotional so honestly Harry is lucky you didn’t start crying the moment your eyes met with Niall’s piercing blue ones because they are truly just that pretty in person, the tv doesn’t do them justice at all.

“I wasn’t swooning you don’t even know what that word means.” You state as you make it up the last step and adjust your purse strap making Harry want to let out a groan due to his personal hatred for the black hole you call a purse you lug around everywhere.

“Yes I do it means to swoon.”

“Are you serious? That’s what you think swooning means? To swoon?”

“It doesn’t matter what it means I just know that’s what you were doing with Niall when you got all heart eyes and just stood there with your mouth hung open.”

“My mouth was not hung open don’t be rude.”

“Then-then the sigh when he left? What the hell was that about?”

“It wasn’t a sigh I was just breathing.”

“Oh please I’ve never heard you breathe like that before.”

“That’s because I’ve never swooned over you.” Harry feels his eyes narrow as his hands clench into fits at his sides as you just cross your arms over your chest and stare at him. It’s then that it hits you what’s going on and you feel your brows pinch together as you give Harry a questioning look. “Harry Styles are you jealous of Niall right now?” You watch him shake his head as a deep and almost dark chuckle escapes him.

“Why would I be jealous of Niall? I don’t even really like you enough to be jealous of anyone you find swoon worthy.” Harry regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, he doesn’t know why he said them because he knows they aren’t true. He does like you, how much and to what extent he’s not quite sure but at least enough to feel a small bubbling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach when he saw you gawking at Niall right in front of him.

“Right. Can we go inside now?” You drop your arms from your chest so you can adjust your purse strap as you look away from Harry and towards the front door. Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face, he mentally scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him and making him to say things that make you practically deflate right before his eyes.

“I’m so-”

“What exactly have you told her about us?” Harry rubs his lips together when you cut off his attempt at an apology and he knows he’s going to just have to add it to the list of things he has to eventually say sorry for whenever you’re finally ready and willing to hear them.

He opens the door and stands to the side allowing you to go in first and when you give him a small close lipped smile as you walk by he catches your eyes for a brief moment and he feels his chest tighten at how exhausted you look. It’s not the kind of exhausted in the sense you could fall asleep at any moment but the kind that shows you’re just emotionally drained and he knows it’s his fault. His words have managed to take the sparkle and light he saw in your eyes earlier when you arrived and were looking at his mother’s rose bushes, leaving behind only a dull glimmer.

It doesn’t help that he knows you’re putting on a brave face because you’re about to meet his mother, something you repeatedly told him you weren’t ready for and instead of listening and trying to work out a better time he just ignored you because for him it’s almost easier to argue and bicker with you than it is to try to talk and come to reasonable conclusions about things. And the thing is Harry just doesn’t know how to stop himself sometimes before he’s saying something stupid and leaving you to deal with the emotional aftermath. Much like he’s doing now as he watches you swallow down your emotions, readying yourself for the task at hand before you look at him over your shoulder with a quirked brow as you stare at him from his mother’s entryway.

“Harry?” You saying his name brings him back to the moment, he’s quick to walk into the house with a playful smile on his face acting like he didn’t just say something extremely hurtful to you a few moments ago as he takes a few steps so he’s standing next to you.

“Oh you know just that we are madly in love and I’m planning on proposing on your birthday which-that’s not today right? Because I’m not prepared at all I don’t have a ring or anything.” He can tell you’re not in the mood for his jokes by the way you just let out a sigh but before he can say anything you just stand up a bit straighter and turn your head so you can look him right in the eyes and that’s how he knows you’re about to say something that’s going to probably hurt his feelings.

“Don’t bother with a ring. I’d never marry someone I don’t swoon over.” You say it so casually but Harry knows there’s an undertone of seriousness to your words, you wouldn’t marry someone like him is what you’re saying and he can’t blame you because right now he doesn’t even think he likes himself very much let alone thinks he’s anywhere close to being marriage material.

“Yeah you deserve a swoon worthy husband.”

“I know I do.”

“I told her the truth.” Harry says finally really answering your original question as he leads you further into the house. “So she knows everything.” He adds as he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re following behind him, you pause and give him a wide eyed stare as your hand reaches out and grabs his elbow keeping him from taking another step.

“You told her everything?” You ask in a whispered tone making Harry have to hold back a chuckle as he sees panic begin to set in as the thought of his mother knowing all the details of the two of you’s relationship hits you.

“I mean I might have spared her a few minor details about how we actually made the twins but other than that yeah she-she knows everything.” You let out a sigh as you release his elbow and Harry then does something that shocks the both of you, he places his hand on your lower back and in an almost comforting gesture you feel his thumb rub against the fabric of your shirt as he gently guides you into his mother’s living room. “Just relax. She’s going to love you.” Is the last thing you hear him say and before you can even fully react to it you hear the sound of a sliding door opening.

“Oh my goodness.” Harry grins as his mom walks into the living room from her backyard, he takes a step to the side letting his hand fall from your back so he can give you and his mom some room to say hello. “You are just lovely.” You feel your cheeks get warm as Harry’s mom walks over to you with her hands out. “I’m Anne.” You introduce yourself to her with a smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this I’m sorry if you ran into Niall on the way in. He just needed some-”

“Oh yeah we ran into him alright.” You turn your head to send Harry a warning glare as Anne grabs your hands giving them a reassuring squeeze while Harry ignores your threatening looks and heads off towards the kitchen.

“He’s always been a bit dramatic so you’ll have to get used to that I’m afraid.” Anne explains as she watches your eyes linger on the back of Harry’s worn out band t shirt before he disappears into the kitchen.

“So it’s not just me that brings this out of him? That’s good to know because I was beginning to think I had something wrong with me that just made him act a little wacky.” You say with a sigh of relief making her laugh as she lets go of your hands and subtly eyes your outfit, you feel embarrassed for a moment wondering if maybe she’ll think you didn’t find this to be an occasion worth dressing up for but then you see her eyes land on your small bump and a grin takes over her features and you instantly see where Harry gets his smile from.

“Come on love.” She reaches for one of your hands before turning around and heading towards the sliding glass door. “Let me show you what I’ve got for you and let me know if anything sets you off okay? I know how smells can be a bit rough during all this.” Harry stands in the kitchen and watches the two of you make your way outside, his mom places your bag down on a chair by the back door before she escorts you outside to the table he helped her set up before you arrived.

“Harry said you’ve been craving jams on toast so I thought this would be a safe thing to start with and he also said you like carrots?” You can only nod as you stare at the table in front of you that has a few plates full of pieces of toast cut up into cute shapes all with different types of jams spread on top of them while one plate has a mixture of vegetables on it with a dip in the middle.

“I do yes-I like carrots and this is wonderful thank you.” Anne smiles as you take a seat at the table, she sits down in the chair next to you and hands you a plate full of the toast and jam so you can have an easier time reaching it. The two of you snack on some toast and vegetables and talk about your work and how long she’s going to be visiting California before a comfortable silence overtakes the table for a few moments.

“I just want you to know that he told me what he did.” Her voice is gentle not wanting to ruin the mood surrounding the two of you as she looks at you with soft kind eyes, you swallow the lump you feel forming in your throat as your hands fall to your lap. “There’s nothing I can say that will undo that kind of damage but I hope you know that I’m so thankful you’re still letting him be apart of this even after-well after all that.” You look away from her and down at the plate in front of you as you feel your eyes start to get watery.

“I’ll always let him to be apart of this for as long as he wants to be apart of this no matter how I may feel about him.” Anne reaches over and places a hand over yours that are resting on your lap and gives them a soft pat.

“I know he comes across as a bit of a uhm well-a bit of an ass but he does seem to care that he upsets you because he’s never called me quite as distraught as he was that night you didn’t let him inside your apartment.” You simply shrug in response as you lift your head and look at the end of the table where you notice a tea pot and some cups.

“That was a rough not for all of us it seems.” You inform her as you place a hand on your bump as you reach for the tea pot but before you can actually grab it you see a very familiar hand with a cross tattoo between the thumb and index finger grab the handle.

“I can do it.” Harry’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it before making you blink up at him as he pours some tea into a cup. “You’re not going to want to watch this next part mom. It’s going to upset you.” He warns as he grabs a jar from next to the pot, Anne just playfully rolls her eyes as she watches her son open the jar and reach for a spoon.

“Is that-”

“Peppermint tea and honey? Yes. Is it killing me to make it for you? Yes but I know you like it and it helps with uh-”

“Nausea.” You finish for him resulting in a small nod and what you think is a hint of a smile as he gently places the teacup in front of you.

“Is that enough honey? I don’t know uhm how-how much you like in your uh tea.” Harry asks all of a sudden feeling very unsure of himself as if it just dawned on him that the amount of honey you take in your tea is just one of the many things he doesn’t know about you. You pick up the teacup and bring it up to your nose and take a sniff and Anne covers her mouth to hide her giggle at the way your nose scrunches up and you very quickly place the cup back down on the table.

“Still smells minty.” You explain as Harry raises a brow at you when you don’t answer his question right away.

“Well yeah it’s peppermint tea.”

“Yeah but I don’t like peppermint tea that’s why I add honey.”

“You-you don’t like peppermint tea?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve been ruining a perfectly respectable tea with honey and you don’t even like it?”

“Perfectly respectable? What kind of tea do you think isn’t respectable?”

“I don’t like lavender tea. Now really why do you drink something you don’t even like? There are so many other nausea remedies you know that right?”

“I’m aware but this one is easy and it tastes fine when I add a lot of honey.” Harry just stares at you as you reach for the jar of honey with the spoon still in it, you hear him let out a huff as he grabs it for you and places another heaping spoonful into your teacup.

“How does this even help with your tummy if it’s just basically honey and hot water?” He asks as he places the honey back near the teapot before he takes a seat in the empty chair next to you.

“Don’t know and I really don’t care because it works so I don’t question it.” Anne sits back in her chair as she watches the two of you go back and forth over the way you prefer your tea and she has to fight back a smile as she notices the way the two of you stare at each other during the whole exchange. Neither of you break eye contact unless it’s when you reach for something but even then Harry is quick to grab it for you, probably not even aware of what he’s doing but subconsciously wanting to do things for you so he has to take advantage of the opportunities when he can, such as spooning extra honey into your teacup while in the middle of a silly argument.

“So love you’re what? Eleven weeks now?” You turn your attention away from Harry to look at Anne who is looking at you with a warm smile. You nod and take a little sip of your tea and smile when it tastes just like it usually does when you make it or maybe a bit better if you’re being honest. “Have you told anyone yet?” She asks and you hear Harry shift in his seat next to you as he rests his hands in his lap and something tells you that if you were to look over your shoulder at him he’d be messing with his rings.

“Uhm not yet I was waiting till I went a little over twelve weeks or so just to be safe.” You explain as you place your teacup back on the table, she just smiles and nods as you reach for a piece of toast with raspberry jam spread all over it. “I also didn’t know how you uh would want to do that? Like announce it.” You look over at Harry as you speak and he lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair while leaning back into the chair.

“I honestly don’t know if I’m going to.” Harry states just as you take a bite out of your toast, he watches your eyebrows furrow as you try to take in what he just told you.

“What do you mean?” You ask once you finish chewing the bite in your mouth.

“I’m going to go check on the cake.” Anne says excusing herself as she stands up from the table, she gives Harry a look that you miss before she walks inside and the moment the sliding door closes Harry lets out a groan and runs both hands over his face as his head rests on the back of his chair.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now.” You roll your eyes at his attempt to change the conversation, but this might as well be discussed now rather than later when you’re even more pregnant and hormonal which just means you’ll be easier to set off on a crying fit.

“Just tell me what you mean by that Harry. You don’t know if you’re going to announce the fact you’re going to be a dad? People will find out eventually you know that right?”

“I don’t know if I want to announce the circumstances in which made me a dad. If I say I’m about to be a dad then they’ll expect an engagement announcement or some photos of me and some hidden girlfriend or something and that’s not the case with us is it?” You feel the lump return to your throat at his harsh tone making the tip of your nose turn pink as you look away from him and down at your lap while you sniffle.

“Once I announce I have a set of twins on the way and they see us together they’ll know very quickly that we are just two people who hooked up one night and ended up here.” Harry adds as he stands up from his seat and gestures to the two of you with his arms, completely ignoring the way you aren’t looking at him and the way your cheeks are now a bit blotchy and your breathing is shaky, all the clear signs that would tell him you’re crying if he would just stop talking and look at you.

“I always thought I’d be having kids with someone that I loved not someone that I just shared a few too many tequila shots with.” His hands are in his hair tugging at his roots as he closes his eyes and tries to take a few deep breathes so he can calm down, not really sure if it’s the topic itself that has made him so upset or if it’s a lingering side effect from his small bout of jealousy earlier and it’s just now rearing its ugly head.

“Harry Edward Styles.” His mom’s voice coming from behind him makes his eyes snap open as he turns around just in time to see you walk around her and through the back door and into the house. He raises a brow as he turns his head to your seat over his shoulder and sure enough it’s empty, he hadn’t even noticed you left the table.

“I uh-I’ll be right back.” Anne just shakes her head as she crosses his arms over her chest and blocks the door from him when he takes a few quick steps towards it.

“No you’ll go sit down and wait for me to get back.” He just nods and lowers his head before he turns around and goes back to his seat at the table. Anne lets out a sad sigh as she turns around and heads inside to find you.

“It’s okay. We aren’t doing this here. Wait till you get home. It’ll be fine.” Anne feels her heart shatter a little as she hears you mumbling to yourself in the entryway, where she finds you with your bag over your shoulder and your phone clutched in your hand while a steady stream of tears make their way down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry love.” Her voice is like a warm hug engulfing you as she appears in the entryway, you look at her and before you can say anything she is wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a gentle hug. “Do whatever you need to do for yourself okay? I promise he will respect whatever boundaries you need to set.” She reassures you as she gives you a small squeeze while your arms wrap around her to return the hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to stay longer.” You mumble between sniffles as Anne pulls away and she just brushes it off as she places a hand on your shoulder.

“Next time it’ll just be us.” She says with a smile as your phone goes off letting you know your ride is almost there. “Let me know if you need anything okay?” You just nod as she leans in for one more quick hug before she opens the front door for you, she stands there and watches you walk down the driveway and to the gate and she waves when you turn to and look at her before walking through the gate. It’s not until she sees the car you get in the passenger seat of drive off that she turns around and goes back inside.

Harry is chewing on his bottom lip while he waits for his mom to return to the backyard, he keeps replaying the last five minutes over and over in his head and he can’t believe he let himself get so caught up in his little tangent that he didn’t even notice you got up and left the table. He feels horrible because he doesn’t even know why he got so worked up over something so stupid. Because Harry knows he is going to have to tell the world he’s going to be a dad eventually, and he would much rather be the one to do it than to have a photo leaked of him with you leaving Dr. Andrews’s office or out shopping for baby things once the time comes for that. He wants it be something well thought out and personal not some rushed, shot from across the street, horrible angled pap photo that the both of you hate that ends up being how the world finds out about the Styles twins in the making.

His main thing is he just doesn’t want to deal with the questions of who you are because he doesn’t know how to answer them, because who even are you to him right now? Besides the obvious answer being the one doing all the hard work and carrying his children, the one he can’t seem to just have a normal conversation with, but also someone he clearly liked enough to give his actual personal number to and thought was cute enough to ask to have a mid night out romp in the bathroom with. For a moment Harry wishes the two of you could be those people again, the ones who met in that karaoke bar and were just having fun and enjoying each others company, before all the pregnancy chaos happened and he potentially ruined everything. Because something deep inside of him knows that if he just took the time to get to know you and stopped getting in his own way, he’d probably really like you and that kind of terrifies him.

“You are going to ensure that girl has a peaceful and smooth pregnancy from here on out do you understand me young man?” Anne’s stern voice makes Harry sit up straighter and knocks him out of his thoughts as he turns to give her all his attention as she stands at the end of the table with a disappointed look on her face.

“Yes ma’am.”

“You have such a way with words Harry and it’s a blessing as well as a curse because sometimes you just say the most hurtful things.” Harry swallows hard as his mom lets out a sigh and places a hand on her hip.

“I love you and you know I want to support you but I will not allow you to talk to her like that. You need to get your head out of your ass and treat her with a little respect or else you’re going to end up watching your babies be brought into this world over a phone because she won’t want you anywhere near her and that means not being in the delivery room and you’ll never forgive yourself if that’s how it ends up Harry.” He just nods as he feels his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears he can’t seem to blink away at the thought of you being so over him that you don’t even want him in the delivery room, something he would have no choice but to agree to.

“I keep-keep fucking it up.” He admits as he sniffles making Anne take a step over to him so she can place her hands on the tops of his shoulders over the chair. “I don’t know why I just-just keep hurting her.”

“Just give her some time and maybe while you’re doing that you should give your therapist a call?” She suggests as a few tears slip past Harry’s closed eyes as he just nods.

“Okay.” Anne smiles at his agreement and leans down and places a kiss to the top of his head before she gives his shoulders a nice squeeze.

“It’ll be okay Harry you just have to do better starting now.” She tells him before she lets go of his shoulders and heads back inside once again leaving Harry alone at the table in her backyard. He opens his eyes and wipes away the few stray tears that try to make their way down his cheeks, his head turns and his eyes land on your teacup and before he can stop himself he reaches over and grabs it so he can take a sip out of it.

“Still disgusting.” He mumbles to himself as he scrunches his nose while he places it back down on the table before he grabs a piece of toast off your plate. “That’s not bad though.” He says after he takes a bite out of a a piece with your favorite raspberry jam on it.

He sniffles a bit as he leans back in his chair to get comfortable with the toast in one hand and his phone in the other. He lets out a huff as he scrolls through his contacts until he finds his therapists’s number, figuring there no time like the present, ready to put his therapist’s whole “I’m here for you anytime” to the test as he hits the call icon while he takes another bite of your current pregnancy craving. All while trying not to think about what kind of emotional state you’re currently in all due to his irrational and hurtful outbursts because if he’s feeling this horrible and he’s the one who did the talking he can’t imagine how you must be feeling as the one who had to endure the hurtful words.

“So whose house was that?” Ethan, your neighbor who lives directly across from you asks after a few moments of you sniffling and silently wiping your face to try to rid your cheeks of any wetness due to your tears while stopped at a red light.

“Anne’s.” Is all you can manage to say before you feel your bottom lip start to tremble as you look down at your purse in your lap. Ethan just nods as he does his best to not let on to the fact he clearly knows you’re having a breakdown in his passenger seat because he also had to help you into that very same seat because your tears had made everything a little blurry by the time he got to the house to pick you up and you were a half step away from tripping on the curb before he caught your elbow.

“I met Niall Horan.” You mumble as the light turns green and Ethan lets out a chuckle as he lightly shakes his head before making his way down the street.

“How many members of One Direction are you currently seeing?” He jokes and that makes you turn to look at him with a raised brow as you rub your hand under your nose, not bothering to try to be polite and look cute in your current teary eyed and snotty state because Ethan has seen you look much worse.

“None.” You answer as you look down at your lap and place a hand over your bump. “But I did let one of them get me pregnant.” Ethan has to stop himself from accidentally slamming on the brakes as you casually let the information fall from your lips deciding that now is as good a time as any to let your neighbor who is also one of your very good friends know why you’ve been so emotional and a bit cranky lately.

“Please god let it be Zayn.” Ethan half whispers to himself making you reach over with your free hand and playfully swat at his arm with a chuckle making him smile at the sound of your laugh even if it is a bit watery and rough.

“It’s not Zayn.” You say with a playful sadness as Ethan pulls into the parking lot of the apartment complex.

“And obviously it’s not Niall if you just met him today.” You just nod as he pulls into his assigned spot and puts his car into park. You stare out the windshield as he turns to look at you, he lets out a sigh as he reaches over and places a hand on your forearm. “Well if it’s who’s been lurking around our hallway then let’s just hope this baby has your brains.”

“You mean babies.” Ethan’s eyes go a little wide but he’s quick to recover and just nods and lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug at the same time as if what you just said is the most normal thing he’s ever heard come out of your mouth.

“Twins?” You just nod as you look over at him and he gives you a smile that makes you feel like crying all over again but for a totally different reason. “Holy shit that’s-that’s amazing.” The excitement and genuine happiness you can feel practically radiating off of Ethan is the reaction you find yourself wishing Harry would’ve had when he found out instead of the one he gave you that ended with you alone in an exam room.

“You think so?” Ethan just nods as he gives your arm a squeeze. “They are the size of limes right now.” You inform him for no reason other than it’s one of the few facts you have to offer at the moment about the two humans growing in your tummy.

“Limes huh? That’s like my favorite fruit and I’m not just saying that because I’m a bartender.” You playfully roll your eyes at him before he just lets you sit in silence with him for a moment.

“I don’t think he likes me.” You whisper but Ethan is close enough that he hears you and you feel his grip on your arm tighten just slightly making you turn to look him in his green eyes that thankfully aren’t as big and dumb as Harry’s. “Like at all and I actually think he might-he might hate me?”

“Want me to kick his ass? He’s got like six or seven years on me so I’m pretty sure I can take him.”

“You may be younger than him but age has nothing to do with being able to beat someone up.”

“I mean come on he’s Harry Styles how much of a punch can the man pack? Besides I’ll let Paris get him in the ankles and I’ll just deck him in his pretty face and it’ll be easy and over with in a few seconds.” You just stare at him for a minute after he’s done explaining his plan of attack and when he lets out a sigh you know it’s one of defeat as he releases his hold on your forearm and runs a hand through his blonde hair.

“Fine because you’re an amazing neighbor and a good friend I won’t hit him. But I make no promises on being nice to him.” You give him a smile before you begin to unbuckle yourself and get out of the car while he takes the keys out of the ignition.

“Thank you Ethan. For everything.” He just smiles and grabs your purse from you before you can even try to put it over your shoulder and slings it over his as the two of you head inside the lobby of the complex.

“You’re welcome.” You lean into him as he tosses his arm over your shoulder while the two of you wait for the elevator. “I know you’re the one who usually drops the older sister advice on me but I just want to say that if he’s gonna act like a douchebag and make you upset like this all the time then fuck him. You don’t need him. You’ll be okay because I’ll make sure of it.” You know he means every word because Ethan isn’t one to just tell you something like this unless he feels he needs to. The two of you step into the elevator and press the number five before you decide to say anything in response.

“So the younger brother wisdom has finally hit you huh? I was wondering when that would happen. Only took two years of living across the hall from each other.” He laughs as he pulls you closer to his side making you smile. “I do appreciate the advice.”

“I just love and respect you too much to see you put up with bullshit from someone who has a god awful naked mermaid on his forearm.” You give Ethan’s chest a smack as the doors open and he lets you walk out first leading the way to your door. “Also you know old lady Sherry is going to fucking freak when she hears her favorite cat lady is having twins.” Ethan adds as the two of you walk by Sherry’s door and you laugh and nod because she does refer to you as a cat lady because she thinks at your age you should be married with babies not living alone with Paris.

“She’s not an old lady Ethan she’s not even in her sixties yet.” You correct him but he just rolls his eyes and brushes you off as the two of you walk up to your doors. You turn to him as he is digging through your bag that’s still over his shoulder, no doubt looking for your keys.

“I’m in my early twenties so I’m sorry everyone over fifty is old.” He teases as he fishes your keys out and hands them to you before he slides your purse off his shoulder and gently places the strap on top of yours making sure it doesn’t fall off. “So tell me what was he-”

“So much prettier in person.” You answer already knowing who he’s referring to and he laughs at how soft your voice goes as the memory of your brief encounter with Niall runs through your head. “The television doesn’t do him justice at all.” You explain since Ethan is the one you watch The Voice with sometimes along with Paris.

“But he looks so pretty on the screen already? How can he possibly be prettier in real life?” He asks with a quirked brow and you just shrug causing the strap of your purse to fall down into the crook of your elbow.

“Well I’m glad something good happened to you today.” You smile as he leans in and wraps his arms around you in a hug.

“Love you Ethan.” He smiles as he pulls away and you turn to unlock your front door.

“Love you too and please tell your little ankle biting boy that I said hello.” You laugh and just nod as you open your door, you turn around to close it and give Ethan a wave as you watch him walk into his own apartment and he waves back before closing his door.

You let out a heavy sigh as you lock the door and drop your bag at your feet. You hear the sound of a bell jingling and soon Paris is purring at your ankles as he rubs his head along your shins making you smile as you bend over and pick him up.

“Uncle Ethan says hello.” Paris just purrs in response as he nuzzles his head against your cheek as you make your way into the living room. “Oh Paris do I have some news for you.” You say with a sigh as you take a seat on your couch and get comfortable with your feet propped up on the coffee table. Paris moves so he’s resting in your lap with his head against your small bump and you bite your bottom lip as you get ready to spill all the events that happened during the few hours you were gone to him, and you’re thankful he isn’t looking at you because you’re not quite sure you could handle looking into his eyes right now since they remind you too much of the big dumb green ones that belong to the man that made you cry just half an hour ago.

[happilyhertale]

Stocking Surprise – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You meet your boyfriend Daemon's family over Christmas. Everything goes well and even Daemon behaves perfectly – until you find out what he has in mind.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, Fingering, Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.5 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

The sprawling Targaryen estate gleams under a blanket of freshly fallen snow. Strings of golden lights wind around the ancient trees, casting a warm glow that illuminated the path to the grand manor. Inside, the atmosphere is lively but cozy, filled with laughter, music, and the faint scent of pine and cinnamon.

Daemon is a vision tonight in a charcoal-gray cashmere sweater, his silvery-white hair perfectly tousled. You’d spent the evening meeting his extended family—most of whom exuded the same enigmatic charisma as Daemon, albeit in varying degrees. There is Rhaenyra, who commanded the room with her sharp wit, and Viserys, whose laughter can warm even the frostiest soul. The children are a chaotic joy, zipping through the halls with sugar-fueled energy.

Daemon had been charming all evening, but there was a spark of mischief in his violet eyes that had you on high alert. He’d been uncharacteristically well-behaved around the children, but you know better than to trust his sudden bout of restraint.

As the evening draws to a close, the family begins to retreat to their respective wings. The halls quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old house settling. You decide to slip away to your room for some much-needed solitude. That’s when you notice Daemon sneaking down the hall, a bundle tucked under his arm.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you follow him on tiptoes, careful not to make a sound. He stops in front of the grand fireplace in the main hall, where the stockings hang in neat rows. Each bears a name embroidered in elegant silver thread. Yours is the newest addition, it‘s dark red velvet standing out against the others.

Daemon crouches before your stocking, grinning like a cat with a canary in its claws. You stifle a laugh as he carefully slips a small, neatly wrapped package into the stocking. But it is what he adds next that makes your eyes widen.

A lacy, vibrant red pair of underwear with a tag that read remote-controlled dangles precariously from his fingers. Your jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Daemon!” you hiss, stepping into the glow of the fireplace.

He looks up, utterly unrepentant. “Caught me, did you?” His grin widens, and he hold the underwear aloft, letting it dangle teasingly.

“You’re insane!” you whisper, glancing around to make sure no one else was awake. “There are children here!”

Daemon chuckles, his voice low and rich. “And you think they’re sneaking into your stocking? Sweetheart, this is strictly for you.” He steps closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “And for me, naturally.”

Flustered, you try to snatch the offending garment from his hands, but he is quicker, holding it high above your head. “Daemon, I can’t—what if someone sees?”

“Then don’t leave it lying around.” He winks. “Problem solved.”

Despite your protests, you feel your cheeks heating as he hands you the small package and the underwear. “Here,” he says, his tone playful but firm. “Unwrap it in your room. I’ll be up shortly to… supervise.”

Your heart pounds as you scurry back to your room, clutching the items like contraband. Once inside, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. True to his word, Daemon appears minutes later, leaning casually against the doorframe, holding the tiny remote between his fingers.

“Go on, show me,” he says, his voice a low purr.

You hold up the underwear, glaring at him half-heartedly. “You’re impossible.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he quips. “Now, put them on.”

Your protest is meet with a raised brow, daring you to refuse. Eventually, you relent, stepping into the bathroom to change. When you emerge, his eyes rake over you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, holding up the remote. Before you can say anything, you feel a sudden, faint vibration. Your gasp makes him grin like the devil himself.

“Daemon!” you squeake, clutching at the waistband.

“Shhh,” he says, placing a finger to his lips. “Wouldn’t want to wake the children,” he murmurs teasingly.

The vibrations intensified briefly, and you grab onto the edge of the bed for balance. Daemon crosses the room leisurely, every movement deliberate. “You’re blushing,” he observes, clearly delighted.

“You’re an idiot,” you manage to say, though your voice was shaky.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “And you’re enjoying this more than you’d admit.”

You stare at him, caught somewhere between exasperation and anticipation.

“Daemon...“, you begin, but whimper as he turns up the vibration.

Daemon just grins, watching you,

“Oh, you're getting off without me? That's not fair...“ Daemon feigns poutiness.

“Shut up,” you gasp as you try to press your thighs together.

Your eyes close and you try to minimize the vibration by squeezing your thighs together.

Daemon's hand pushes you further onto the bed and you follow his movement, crawling up and positioning yourself on all fours for him. The vibration makes your abdomen tremble and you feel yourself soaking your panties more and more. You press your face lightly into the pillow and feel Daemon come onto the bed, pushing your legs slightly apart as he kneels between your legs.

Daemon slowly approaches you, enjoying the way your fingers dig into the sheet. When he is standing behind you, he puts his hand on your bottom, grasping lightly, while the vibration does not subside.

You let out a small moan as you feel his touch and Daemon's grin doesn't leave his face.

“See, you're enjoying this,” he murmurs and you whimper again.

“Shut up,” you gasp again, but press your ass harder against his hand.

He turns up the vibration and your constant whimpers echo louder through the room.

His fingers glide gently over the vibrating fabric, feeling how wet you already are.

“Oh Love... look at you, so wet... you want more, don't you? Do you want me to stretch that tight cunt?“ he murmurs and you whimper. But before you can answer, he slaps the flat of his hand on your ass.

You moan slightly, pushing your face further into the pillow.

“I knew it,” he mutters. For a brief moment, you hear nothing, until you hear his belt unfasten slowly. The sound alone makes you drip even more. Daemon sets the remote control aside as he pulls down his trousers. His length is already hard, twitching impatiently as his hand encircles it, gripping it lightly and sliding up and down.  

He watches how your bottom is pushed up, how the fabric of your panties becomes more and more soaked. He growls slightly, pumping his hardness faster, before his other hand pushes your panties slightly to the side. His fingers glide through your slit, rubbing the wetness along your folds.

“Fuck...”, he just grunts and you can literally feel his cock twitching.

You push your bottom further towards him as he lets the tip of his cock slide through your folds. Occasional grunts and gasps leave his lips before he slowly penetrates you.

You squeeze your eyes shut. No matter how many times he has fucked your pussy raw, this feeling will never get dull. The way your walls stretch around his length. The way he slides deeper and deeper, making your pussy clench.

“Daemon,” you whimper into the pillow, and he grunts, grabs your hips and pushes all the way inside you.

Long strokes hitting so deep into you, making you see stars. Daemon is gripping your hips, fucking into your tight pussy. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust, intensifying the vibration of your panties.

Your fingers dig into the sheets beneath you as Daemon pushes deeper inside you. You cry out into the pillow and Daemon growls. The panties are still vibrating, teasing your clit as Daemon thrusts into you faster.

His cock kisses your cervix, making your body tremble. His hands grasp your buttocks, pull them apart as he watches his cock slide into you, covered in your juices.

At that moment, Daemon feels his balls tighten as he nears his climax.

He grabs your hips tighter and angles them differently to thrust deeper into you. You cry out, feeling your walls clench around him. The pressure in your abdomen increases and you moan out. He groans behind you, thrusting harder as your noises grow more desperate.

And suddenly you come. You scream and Daemon grunts loudly. Your walls milk him, and pull him deeper inside, want his juice – and Daemon gives in.

He growls as his hips stutter. He thrusts deep inside you, his hot seed spills deeper into your clenching pussy with each thrust.

You whimper as he slows down, letting his orgasm subside. Slowly, he pulls his length out of you, breathing heavily. For a moment, he just kneels behind you, his hands on your hips.

His hand gently glides over your bottom before he reaches for the remote and turns off the vibration. Your eyes are closed, but you feel him fall down next to you on the mattress.

You turn your face to him, watching him as he tries to catch his breath with his eyes closed. You smile slightly before cuddling up to him a little and kissing his cheek.

“Thank you for the gift,” you whisper, making him chuckle before he pulls you close.

[thattiredsock]

Hey me again, I've recently got some notes here and I was reminded of it. there's many good tips on the notes, mostly doing the base in a grey instead of withe.

Other thing I do mostly for day to day stuff is skip the base and do the black parts with withe instead.

Also, also, since making the post I've been involved in some stuff for Day of the Death and I've kinda use some stuff I've learned from doing my make up for that, mostly that I love looking like a skeleton and that If I where to do a withe base, like the pics, this stuff

Its a cream for rashes, I've found it pretty easily in almost any drugstore or supermarket (at least here in Mexico, hope is the same elsewhere), that with some baby powder, works like a charm

Also shout out to these tags form @olivay-official

#it depends on the type of corpse paint you want to do#like if you want a skull look instead of doing the dsrk parts with black do them with an ashy tan#they make makeup that is thick and will show up in dark skin well usually its for theater and stage but it will go on thick so you can use#your features to your advantage here and either flip the dark and light or emphasize the dsrk parts of your skin by highlighting with a cool#tone in the areas you want surrounding the dark#for corpse like zombie i recommend going full mummy style depending on how dark your skin is use the above method and do the highlights#you want to use cool and ashy tones that drown out the life#i would also add green and yellow ochre in there#these are good zombie colors to#mix in plus they gray and dull colors which is what we want here#look at stage makup brands as these go on smooth and thick enough to get the color to stand out against any skin color#just be sure to pick a good brand that has the color variety you need#ben bye is a common one but i don’t know if it has much variety in skin tone colors and while colors from there would still totslly work for#corpse makeup you may not want to support them if they arent providing for everyone#but like i said I’m not sure tha last time i looked at stage makeup from them was many years ago and at the time they had like 3 skintone#options and a rsnge of out there colors#ooh and if you want to go all tim burton just use blur to frame your shadows and defs with any corpse make the cheeks look deeply sunken#hope this helps

Thanks for your help guys!

Does anybody know how can I, a brown person, do corpse paint?. Like I know there's nothing actually stopping me from painting my face with withe paint. But you know, the point is to look "cadaver like" and something tells me that my cadaver would not turn that pale

[thatpikmin]

Spoilers for ep 3 of wild life

DOES ANYONE HAVE IMAGES OF EVERYONE’S SNAILS I NEEED TO SEE WHAT EVERYONE’S SNAILS LOOK LIKE, THEIR ALL SO CUTE

[mythica0]

No more suffering

Ch.1: War and Bloodshed

—————

A/N; welcome to my no one dies AU- written in fic form! This is part one- which will likely be put on my master post. The link to the next part will be at the end once it’s written! (Probably. I can be dumb sometimes.) luckily for me, the majority of dialogue of this chapter was basically taken right from the lyrics. Enjoy!

War and bloodshed

It’s been ten years.

Ten years that Odysseus and his men have been away from home. Ten years since he has seen his wife and son. Ten years since this blasted war started.

And now, it was about to end.

The men were sitting in a large wooden horse, ready to attack the Trojans in their sleep. It was hot, and the air was stale and unpleasant to breathe. The men were chattering quietly among themselves, not wanting to alert the Trojans to their presence, but not wanting to be entirely silent either.

After a few more moments, Odysseus speaks up.

“Alright, my brothers, listen up.”

The muttering and whispering quiets instantly, preparing for the plans and inevitable motivating speech.

“Tonight is the night we make the Trojans pay for our years of suffering. Ten years of this war, they killed many men one by one, but now- we will be the ones who slay them.”

His voice grows intense with determination and passion, encouraging his men like he was so good at doing.

“Think of your families! Think of your wives and your children, wondering where you’ve been! They’re growing old and yet we’re all still here. If you do what I say, you’ll see them again.”

There was a rousing cheer of ‘Yes, Sir!’ From all the men, full of a fiery determination. Odysseus begins to speak once more, serious and instructional, leaving no room for argument.

“Diomedes will lead the charge, Agememnom will flank the guards. Menalaus will lead everyone through the main gates to take the whole city. Tuecer, shoot any ambush attack that comes our way. Little Ajax, you’re going to stay here to make sure everyone gets back safe and attend to the wounded. Nestor, secure Helen and protect her. Neo, avenge your father- kill the brothers of Hector.”

There was another resounding chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’ Odysseus stands from the floor, encouraging the others to do the same, full of determination.

“Find your inner strength now, use that well of pride! Fight through every pain now, ask yourself inside, what do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

The men ask him in return, repeating his words, and Odysseus answers, a wistful look on his face as he thinks back to his home and loved ones.

“Penelope. Penelope and Telemachus. I fight for us.” There is a quiet yet passionate fire in his voice as he speaks. The men speak again as though in a chant, trying to rally their strength and determination.

“What do you live for?”

“Penelope.” Odysseus responds, a determined look on his face, eyes narrowed seriously as he answers to both the men and himself, to gather his strength.

“What do you try for?”

“Telemachus.”

“What do you wish for?”

“I’m on my way.” He reached for his sword, prompting the others to do the same as they gather around the secret entrance to the inside of the horse.

“What do you fight for?”

Then there’s a large war cry, “ATTACK!”

The men surge out, following the plan to the letter. Odysseus heads to the palace, towards Hector. There are the noises of war and battle all around him, blood splattering the ground as the clink of swords and cries of determination, pain and effort fill the air around him, and as the battle rages on its clear that Ithaca is winning.

Eventually he reaches the top wall of the palace, and just as he passes a small room with a curtain for a door, he’s stunned by a strong electric shock coursing through him, and he lets out a pained grunt.

“Agh! W-who was that?”

Suddenly, a large fog of clouds rolls around him, a deep voice echoing from them.

“A vision. Of what is to come, cannot be out run. Can only be dealt with right here and now.”

Odysseus is slightly shocked(see what I did there?) to see the form of Zeus rising from the clouds, dark brown hair with streaks of grey, yellow eyes and a strong build, looking serious. He doesn’t take time to process though, quickly registering the words that the god said.

“Tell me how.”

“I don’t think you’re ready. A mission. To kill someone’s son. A foe who won’t run, unlike anyone you have faced before.”

Odysseus narrows his eyes in determination again.

“Say no more. I know that I’m ready.”

“I don’t think you’re ready!”

The mist of clouds part, directing the King’s gaze to the room he passed, parting the curtains so he can see what’s inside.

It’s a nursery. Inside, there are some decorative Tapestries on the walls, and leaning against one of them is a crib, which has a sleeping baby inside. Odysseus’ eyes go wide at the sight.

“It’s just an infant. It’s just a boy.” His voice is strained and saddened, confused, cracking slightly as he continues to speak.

“What sort of imminent threat does he pose that I cannot avoid?” He speaks quietly, as if afraid to know the answer. Zeus responds anyway.

“This is the son of none other than Troy’s prince Hector. You need to know that he will grow from a boy to an avenger. One fueled with rage while you’re consumed by age. If you don’t end him now, you’ll have no one left to save!”

Odysseus’ eyes widen further, worry etched into his face.

“You could say goodbye to Penelope.”

Odysseus starts to plead with the god, as if it would change the outcome of the vision.

“I could raise him as my own!”

Zeus responds seriously, but with an air of smugness as well.

“He will burn your house and throne.”

“Or send him far away from home!”

“He’ll find you wherever you go.”

“Make sure his past is never known!” His voice grows increasingly loud and desperate, his gut turning.

“The gods will make it known!”

“I’d rather bleed for ya, I’m on me knees for ya! I’m begging, please-!” His loud pleading voice is cut off by Zeus’ booming words.

“This is the will of the gods!”

There’s a pause, and Odysseus’ next words are much quieter, still pleading.

“Please don’t make me do this, don’t make me do this!”

“The blood on your hands is something you won’t lose, all you can choose is who’s.”

The gods words carry an aura of finality, and then the clouds pull away slowly, leaving a silent, stunned Odysseus outside the room.

A few moments pass, and he walks into the room, to the crib, and stares down at the infant he has to kill.

He picks up the baby. Astynax, according to the name on the crib, and he stirs, blinking awake.

The child seems surprisingly okay with being held by a stranger, sleepily babbling and reaching out a tiny hand to pat the hair on Odysseus’ face, giggling. He feels his heart twist in his chest, as he starts to sing to the infant, a lullaby-like ballad. He knows the infant won’t remember any of this, in the underworld. But he feels so much guilt welling inside of him, and he needs to do something to try and ease that pain, if only for himself.

The ballad is gentle, and he cradles the child in his arms as he sings, holding back tears. He sings of his family, of his struggles in this war.

It hurts. It hurts so much. This child reminds him so much of what Telemachus was like when he left.

He sings that he is just a man, that he doesn’t want to do this but needs to, to save those he loves, and as the lullaby comes to a close, he walks towards the wall of the palace, letting the child see the view as he holds the bundle over the stone.

“I’m just a man~~”

With the final words of the song, he lets go of the cloth, letting the infant fall. He turns his head, not able to bear the sight, tears stinging his eyes. He hears the child laugh as it falls, amused as all children are when they fall, and it stabs the knife deeper into his heart, his chest physically aching. He doesn’t dwell and continues forward.

Not long after, Ithaca is declared victorious. He gathers his men to see little Ajax attending to the wounded as he had instructed.

No casualties. Good.

There are many wounded soldiers, but none critically so. He gathers his men and they ready to head back towards the dock, towards their ship to start the long journey back to Ithaca.

There is idle chatter, cheerful words of victory among the men, but Odysseus doesn’t process any of it. His mind is foggy, weighed down by the guilt from what he did. All the noise around him just seems like static.

They board the ship, and Odysseus heads up to the mast to give instructions. All the men can see that their captain, general, and friend isn’t doing well, but they don’t dare bring it up.

“Alright everyone. The war is over, and now we can return to Ithaca. Get in position.” His voice is dead, monotone. He sounds angry, but his men know that he isn’t actually mad at them.

They don’t know what’s on his mind, but they know whatever it is it’s bothering him and making him act angry and melancholy, with no fault to them.

He turns to face his men fully, presenting raiders in his booming voice. It’s supposed to be another inspirational speech, but it loses some of its fire from the clear mental anguish behind his eyes.

“600 men! 600 men under my command! With only one goal in mind-“

The men all respond, hoping that seeing their rallied strength and will might help Odysseus feel better, if only slightly. “To make it back alive to our homeland!”

“600 men. 600 miles of open sea. But the problems not the distance-“

“It’s what lies in between!” They once again echo in a chorus, a fire in their eyes.

“And Ithaca’s waiting! My kingdom is waiting! Penelope’s waiting, For me! So full speed ahead! Full speed ahead!”

The men repeat in a chorus his words, trying to bring confidence to their captain, sensing the pain and suffering he’s feeling. It only partially works.

The men row, chatting amongst themselves, and about an hour or so later, Eurylochus comes up to Odysseus with concern etched in his expression.

“Captain.”

Odysseus looks up, hands still on the wheel. His eyes are half-lidded, still clearly hiding something heavy behind them.

“Eurylochus?”

“We have 600 men, all with mouths to feed. But- we’re out of supplies.”

The men chorus behind him, mutters of agreement passing over them.

“Each of these men is a reason to take what we can- so what’s the plan?”

“Captain, what’s the plan?”

Odysseus speaks with determination, his passion to protect his men briefly overshadowing his inner turmoil.

“Watch where the birds fly. They will lead us to land. There we’ll hunt for food, my second in command! Full speed ahead!”

Very soon after, Polites walks up, a slight bounce in his step.

“Captain!”

“Polites?”

“There, in the distance! I see an island with a light that faintly glows! Maybe they’re people; lighting a fire! Maybe they’ll share some food, who knows?” His voice is chipper and excited at the prospect.

Odysseus looks to where Polites pointed, seeing the island and narrowing his eyes, having a strange gut feeling.

“Something feels off here, I see fire but there’s no smoke.”

Eurylochus pipes up from the side, a determined, almost angry expression. “I say we strike first, we don’t have time to waste so let’s raid the place and-!”

“No.” Odysseus cuts off Eurylochus, the guilt in his heart aiding in the decision.

“Polites gear up. You and I’ll go ahead.”

“You and I’ll go ahead!” Polites echoes cheerfully, happy that his best friend didn’t resort to violence immediately.

“We should try to find a way no one ends up dead.”

“We don’t know what’s ahead!” Eurylochus speaks, concerned. Odysseus addresses the concern with authority.

“Give me till sunrise. And if we don’t return, then 600 men can make this whole place burn. Now full speed ahead!”

“I’m glad you’re seeing things my way, Captain!” Polites speaks, chipper as always.

“Heh, you sure now how to brighten the mood, huh? We should make it to the island by the end of the day, so be ready.”

“You got it! I’ll be right back and ready to go!”

Then Polites walked off to grab his gear.

They didn’t know what awaited them on the island. But they were about to.

———THE END————————————————

Next chapter! [coming at some point!] ->

[seasonalmiak]

I’m fuckign losing it

I have no idea what to draw. I don’t like any of these, and I’m running out of knowledge on tactical cosplay gear things to use. Other people make it look easy.

[floral-hex]

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Anxiety run amok. Tried to distract myself by playing through Super Mario Bros, but I’ll be honest, that was stressing me out pretty bad trying to get through some of those levels. Unrelated but coincidentally (tangentially?), after an intense bit of playing, my anxiety flared up majorly. Heart racing, skin painfully prickled, lungs failing me. Oh well. That’s what drugs are for. So instead I started Death Stranding, which my little brother gifted me for Christmas a couple of years back but I just never got around to committing to. Much better choice. It feels like the perfect distraction for me right now. Frankly, I’m lonely. I feel cut off from the world. I’m scared and anxious and I have no idea what the future holds for me, but it feels bleak. So it’s nice to pop into this little world where you’re trying to make connections and explore the world, even if it is just a video game. It’s giving me something positive to focus on right now.

I just thought I’d make a text post. Mention a game I like. Just folded some laundry, I’m on my 3rd bowl of cereal right now, and I’ll do some dishes when I’m done. Trying to keep on moving forward. More bullshit in the tags.

[daines-wildmagic]

@staff

Can we please get the ability to see people’s tags in the reblog section of the notes (on app). Please please please with a cherry on top 😭

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

I am graduating in two weeks I will not engage in discourse. I am graduating in two week I need to focus on finals. My degrees will worth more than being right online. I will not engage in discourse. I will not engage. I will not.

But I want to 😟

[strang3lov3]

Bedridden

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 🍆💦❤️‍🔥

Joel is sick and refuses to rest, so you knock him out the best way you know how. (5.4k)

Tags - smut, lotsa sexual tension, blow jobs, pussy pronouns, teasing, fingering, unprotected piv, riding the sick old man’s cock, creampie, non-graphic descriptions of being sick. JOEL DOES THE DAD SNEEZE. coughing, fevers. That’s all. Joel is stubborn and grumpy while you take care of his old as fuck ass. Arguing with the old man, forcing the old man to bathe, forcing the old man to eat and drink, forcing a thermometer in the old man’s mouth. Joel bitching you out the whole time. Joel is kind of exactly like Dennis in IASIP when the gang gets quarantined. Fic Help - My usuals! @beefrobeefcal, your unhinged comments on the doc were the best part. and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your help <3 A/N - Heyyyyyyy. I promised this fic yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Sorry. It just needed to marinate in the doc a little longer or something. It’s been a bullshit ass few days and I’m,,,,handling it. Anyway, I’ve been sick as balls so that’s how this fic came about. Everybody wash your hands 🧼

There’s a fine point late in the year, right after summer turns to fall. You can fall asleep with the window over your bed cracked open just an inch to let the crisp, cool air blow over your face as you cocoon yourself in blankets. In the mornings you wake to that same breeze and the birds chirping, though less and less as they fly south for the upcoming winter. 

Not this morning, though. This morning, you’re awoken by a chesty, hacking cough coming from outside your window. You sigh as you get out of bed and push the curtains away from the window to get a better look at what the hell is going on out there. 

And it’s just your neighbor, Joel. You should have guessed it’d be him, you heard his earth shattering, deafening sneeze the other day when you waved to him as you walked by his house. Joel waved back at you with the same hand he sneezed into. Ew. 

Everyone’s getting sick lately, it goes around quickly in Jackson. Always does - it starts with the kids and works its way through the community, and a good four to six weeks are filled with endless sneezing and coughing and mucus.

Joel’s coughing up his lungs as he rakes up the leaves in your yard, a job he’s seemingly assigned himself, because you sure as shit didn’t ask him to do this. He has a habit of taking on your chores and home maintenance out of his own frustration. 

You pull a robe over your pajamas and slide on a pair of slippers, then leave out of the front door to greet Joel. “Good morning, Joel.” 

Joel clears his throat. “S’actually noon, lazy ass. ‘Bout time ya woke up.”

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Gross. “M’workin’.” 

“Yeah, I see that. But you sound sick.” 

Joel ignores the accusation, “Your yard looks like shit, by the way,” he says. “Wouldn’t kill ya to rake once in a while. ‘Stead of makin’ me do it.” 

“You choose to do this. I don’t make you do anything,” you argue, rolling your eyes. It’s funny, though. Joel’s turning into the caricature of the old man angrily shaking his fist at kids playing on his lawn. All crotchety and pissed off about nothing. You step closer to him and wrap your hand around the handle of the rake, pulling it towards yourself. “Besides, Mother Nature put those leaves there for a reason,” you add. 

“Sure, smartass. For you to ignore and for me to clean up. Now, give it,” Joel tugs the rake back. Whatever. You let him. Joel rakes more of your leaves into the pile he’s created, then doubles over in another coughing fit. You rub your palm on his back, patting him gently. He’s sweating through his flannel. “Oh, Christ. Fuck me.” 

“Joel, you look awful.”

You help him stand up, “You’re a terrible flirt, darlin’,” Joel replies dryly. But he knows you’re not wrong. He saw in the mirror how pale he looked this morning, the dark circles around his eyes. 

“Oh, shut up.” You press the back of your hand against Joel’s forehead, all sweaty and warm. “You’re burning up, Joel. You’re sick.” 

“I am not sick,” Joel protests through another cough. “I’m fine. How ‘bout you worry ‘bout yourself ‘stead of fussin’ over me.”

“You’re hacking up a lung in my yard. I’ll worry about you all I want, thank you.”

In response, Joel grumbles something you can’t quite make out. You roll your eyes and take the rake from him, dropping it on the grass. “My rake,” Joel murmurs, annoyed and defeated. With your work clearly cut out for you, you take his hand and lead him into your house. “Aw, hell. What’re you doin’ to me.” 

“Taking care of you,” you reply.

“Didn’t sign up for this bullshit,” Joel complains. “I don’t need takin’ care of.”

Oh, he’s a peach. Most men, when sick, are total babies - pathetically crying about their headaches and stomachaches to women who deal with the same symptoms on a monthly basis. It’s charming, truly. But not Joel, though. In his stubbornness, Joel refuses to ever admit when he’s sick, like he’s got something to prove. Can never let himself be taken care of, because that’s his job - to take care of others. Always has been. 

Once inside, you have Joel take off his boots, then usher him to the bathroom with a hand on his back, his flannel damp with sweat. “Sit.” You reach for Joel’s shoulders and push him down, forcing him onto the lidded toilet. You crouch down at the bathtub and plug the drain with the stopper, then turn the water on - not too hot, not too cold. “Yeah, this is good. This’ll make you feel so much better.” 

“Oh, c’mon. Turn off the damn water. I’m not takin’ a bath.” 

“You are, too.” 

“Am not.” 

“Joel,” you bite. Joel parrots your name back in the same threatening tone.

“We’re breaking that fever one way or another, Joel. So you bathe yourself, or I’ll do it.” 

Joel cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, will ya, now?”

You go quiet, no retort to his comment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you focus on the bathtub filling with water to avoid Joel’s taunting gaze. After a long enough silence passes, Joel changes the subject. “I don’t have any clean clothes, y’know.” 

“Then I’ll grab you some from your house,” you mumble.

“Mm,” Joel grunts. “Got an answer for everything, don’tcha?”

You glare. Joel glares too. You fold your arms across your chest and raise your eyebrows at him. You are not losing this battle. 

Joel sighs in defeat. “Alright, go on an’ get, then. I’ll take the fuckin’ bath if it’ll get me fifteen minutes away from you obsessin’ over me. There. Happy?” 

“Happy.”

You leave Joel in the bathroom to bathe himself, closing the door behind you. Still wearing nothing but pajamas and a robe, you change quickly into a hoodie and jeans, then leave through your front door for the second time.

Joel’s house is right next to yours, so it’s not a long walk. Mentally, you’re kicking yourself for your stupid threat to bathe Joel. The way he responded to it, ‘Oh, will ya?’ and how bashful that made you, the embarrassment written all over your face in big, black, permanent marker. Your crush on the older man is obvious, and Joel, never the gentleman, will jump at any opportunity to make you squirm. Like when he catches your eyes lingering on him for a little too long, he’ll tease you for it. “S’rude to stare, y’know,” he’ll taunt, always with that stupid fucking grin on his face. Smile lines framing his cheeks, crows feet handsomely peeking at the corners of his eyes. You really need to stop setting yourself up for these things. 

Once in Joel’s house, you head upstairs for his bedroom and rifle through his dresser drawers for some comfy clothes. You pick out a pair of plaid boxers, some gray sweatpants, and a navy waffle-knit henley. You bunch up his clothes and inhale, Joel’s natural smell still lingering in the clothes, even washed. 

In his kitchen, you notice some vegetables sitting out on his countertops. Carrots, potatoes, onions. You grab those too, then check the fridge for leftover chicken or turkey or something. He usually has some, and usually brings it to you after he’s had his fill. “This is for you, trouble. Cause y’don’t eat enough,” he’ll gruff. “Would you like me to heat it up for ya?” And whether you say yes or no, he always does. It seems to make him happy or fulfill him somehow, so you let him take care of you like that. If only he’d let you return the favor.

Bingo. There’s chicken in old Tupperware right on the top shelf, and yesterday’s date written in Joel’s terrible handwriting from an old, dried up Sharpie. You take that too, then go back home. 

You leave Joel’s food you stole on the kitchen table and stop at your linen closet for a fresh towel. You knock on the bathroom door, “Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’.”

“I have your clothes. And a towel.”

“Good. I need those,” Joel says. “C’mon in, then.” 

You open the door, averting your eyes from Joel’s naked body in the bathtub. “Relax. M’not gonna let you see somethin’ you ain’t ‘sposed to.” He’s got his hands covering his manhood, the rest of himself on display - toned biceps, veined forearms. His belly is pillowy and hairy and his legs look so long, all bare like this. His toes peeking out of the soapy bathwater. You set the towel and his clothes down on the toilet, stealing an even longer look at him when you think he doesn’t notice. “I see ya snoopin’, trouble. Wanna take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and ignore the offer, turning your attention to Joel but keeping your eyes focused on his face. His hair is slicked back, and his grays pop out against the rest of his dark hair, little ringlet curls at his neck. The asshole is criminally handsome. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“I feel fine. Like I’ve felt all day,” Joel lies. His body betrays him instantly when another cough wracks through him. 

“Right. Well, you smell better, at least.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, “Nice one, sweetheart. Thanks. Now scram, so I can get dressed.” 

You leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself again. You can hear the sound of the bathtub draining and Joel getting out of the tub as you stop at the linen closet again, this time grabbing some queen sized sheets and pillowcases. 

In your living room, you pull some cushions off of your sofa and pull out the built-in bed, then dress it with the sheets and an old floral quilt. You cover your own pillows in the pillowcases, then fluff them nicely and set them up for Joel, who’s leaving the bathroom now, combing his hair back.

“Stole your comb,” he says, tossing it for you to catch. He stops in the living room and looks at the pull-out bed that you made up, the corners of the sheets tucked in and everything. “The hell’s all this?”

“Exactly what it looks like,” You mock his words from earlier. “Your bed.”

“You’re bein’ ridiculous. I ain’t even sick.”

You ignore Joel and point to the bed. “Get in.”

Joel rolls his eyes but gets in the bed anyway, springs squeaking under his weight. “M’not gettin’ in this bed ‘cause I’m sick or ‘cause you’re makin’ me. Just feel like sittin’.” 

“Sure, Joel,” you sigh. “How much water have you had today?”

“Plenty.”

“How much is plenty?”

“It’s enough,” he snaps impatiently. You leave him just for a second to fill a glass with some water, then bring it to him. Joel pushes the glass away, “I said I’ve had enough.” 

“I’ll decide what’s enough, now here–” you put the glass into his hand, “Drink.” 

Joel drinks the entirety of the glass, glaring at you the entire time. Good god, if looks could fucking kill. The cool water soothes his scratchy, sore throat, but Joel won’t tell you that. “You’re a tyrant, sweetheart,” he tells you, voice raspy and low. What he doesn’t tell you, however, is that if the shoe were on the other foot and you were the sick one right now, he'd be just as overbearing over your health. Probably worse. 

You pout mockingly at Joel as you take his glass. “Stay here. Don’t get up.” 

You get up from the bed to go into the kitchen and begin preparing a soup for Joel to soothe his aching throat. You start by dicing onions, then chopping some carrots. You toss them in a large pot with some butter, letting the vegetables soften. You’ve even got some leftover bread you made yesterday, so you turn on your oven to heat it up. You can hear Joel getting restless, tossing and turning in the less than comfortable bed. Probably should have turned on a movie for him, left him a book or something to occupy his restless mind. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Mind your business.” 

You open Joel’s Tupperware and chop up his chicken into little bits. When you look up, Joel’s out of bed. You scoff. He’s forcing open your window, grunting as it squeaks. “Joel, what did I tell you? Get your ass back in that bed.”

“Relax, would ya? M’tryin’ to get some air in here.” Joel successfully forces the window open, and cool air blows into your tediously warmed home. “House is a fuckin’ oven.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably your fever talking, dumbass. Put my window down.” 

“I really outta fix this window for ya. Ain’t good to leave it like this. I’ll get my tools an’ I–”

You march across the kitchen and into the living room, knife in hand and using it to point to the bed. “Joel.”

“You scare me,” Joel mumbles, raising his arms in surrender. He closes the sticky window for you, then you march him back to the pullout. Before Joel lays down, he glances in the kitchen at what you’ve been cooking. He heard the sounds of you chopping, but with his nose all congested he can’t smell enough to hazard a guess as to what you’ve been making. Joel narrows his eyes at the stolen Tupperware on your table, the carrots and onion peels to the side, and recognizes it all as his. “Is that my…?” 

“Just lay down, Joel.” 

“Did you take that from my fridge?” 

“I did.”

You’re completely shameless about this, there’s not even a half-assed attempt at lying your way out, and Joel’s beside himself. “You stole from me, you little–” You urge Joel into bed, fluffing the pillows behind him as you ignore his tantrum. “You are unbelievable. I could throttle you, you know that?”

“Go ahead, Joel,” you challenge. A slight breeze could knock this sick old man down to his knees. You tuck Joel into the sheets, then adjust the quilt over him again. And this time before leaving him, you grab an old book of word searches in a basket under an end table. “Here.” You toss it to him along with a dull pencil. That should keep him busy.

Back in the kitchen, you’re still working on Joel’s soup. It’s bubbling away on the stove, and you’ve just finished making egg noodles to make the dish a little heartier. Something to stick to his ribs. It hits you then, that you don’t hear sniffling or coughing. Joel’s gone quiet, suspiciously so. 

And lo and be-fucking-hold, Joel’s up again. This time, with tools. Tools that you don’t have, tools that he must have snuck out and grabbed from his home at some point. “Joel!” 

“There,” Joel says, moving your window up and down seamlessly. “Window’s fixed.” 

“How many times do I have to say it?” 

“How about you try a ‘thank you’, huh?” Joel shoots back.

You shoo him back to bed. You slice a bit of warm bread, then ladle some soup into a bowl and bring it to him with a spoon. “Eat,” you tell him. 

Joel eats a spoonful, and it’s written all over his face how much he enjoys it, the warm broth relieving his sore throat. “So what’d you poison it with, huh?”

“Oh, you’re such a dick.” 

Joel smiles, only teasing. “M’sorry. S’just that you shouldn’t be doin’ all this for me, s’all.” Joel squeezes your knee comfortingly. “Thank you. I mean it, darlin’.” He’ll let you feed him, but no more than that. You’re too sweet for your own good. “S’good soup.”

“I’m glad you like it, you asshole.” You smile too, and push some of Joel’s hair out of his face. He finishes his bowl of soup, even has a second one. You take his bowl away and wash it at the sink.

“Should let me do that,” Joel says, following you into the kitchen. “Ain’t that how it works? One cooks, the other cleans.” Joel bumps you to the side and takes the soapy dish from your hands.

“Maybe another time,” you offer, attempting to take back the bowl. “Don’t want your germs on my dinnerware.” But Joel holds on tight, so you let him wash the dish. Since he wants to die on this hill. So you dry your hands, then feel his forehead once again. You frown, displeased that the bath didn’t work at curbing his fever at all. He’s still burning up. “I’ll be right back.” 

You go to your bathroom and open the cabinet vanity, where you have an old Walgreens thermometer, the paint all smudged off. You wash it with soap and water in the sink, then return to Joel. Amazingly, you find him in the bed doing his word search puzzle, and you didn’t even have to tell him to go lay down this time. 

The bed creaks under you as you sit down next to him. You put his book down, “Open,” you tell him, thermometer in hand.

“Oh, c’mon now,” Joel complains. “Get that thermometer outta my face.”  

You shake your head no, and tug on Joel's chin so that he opens his mouth. You place the thermometer under his tongue and he closes his lips around it, staring daggers at you the entire time thermometer reads his temperature. 

He’s so handsome. Big, sparkling brown eyes underneath brows knit together in irritation. Pouting lips. Age looks good on him, perfectly both softens and enhances his rougher edges.

The thermometer beeps. You read the temperature, 102.3°F. Why Joel’s even upright with a fever like this is a mystery, but that’s men for you. Fucking idiots. “That’s a hell of a fever you’re running, Joel.”

“You’re full’a shit. Gimme that.” Joel sniffles and snatches the thermometer from you to read the number for himself. He shrugs. “S’old. Probably faulty. Can’t trust it.” Joel covers his mouth with his elbow and coughs loudly. 

“You’re old and faulty too, Joel. Look at you.” You offer him a handkerchief to wipe his nose. “You’re falling apart.” 

Joel scowls at you before blowing his nose. You leave him once more, this time to bring him a cool, damp rag. You press it against his forehead, and Joel closes his eyes. “Does that feel nice?”

“No. Quit that.” 

But Joel’s body betrays him. He’s sighing in relief, and his tensed muscles loosen. His breathing, while still shallow, has slowed as much as it can, soft belly rising and falling with steady breaths.

“Are you falling asleep?” 

“No, I’m not. M’not tired,” Joel argues. He tries adjusting the now lukewarm rag, warmed by his body heat.

“You should sleep.”

“Nah.”

 You take the damp rag off of Joel’s forehead and flip it so that the cooler side soothes his hot, feverish skin. “You know, Joel, I think this is why god made women. To take care of stupid, sick men like you.”

“Hm. Could be so. But I think he sent you to me as a punishment of sorts.” 

“Is that so? A punishment?”

“S’right. An’ some day, you’ll fool some poor man into marryin’ you and he’ll have to put up with this same shit the rest of his life. I don’t envy that sorry bastard one bit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you coo, wiping away a droplet of water that rolls down his temple. “You tell me all about it, Joel. Tell me how terrible it is.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Joel continues his tirade, bitching and moaning about how you're doing too much, that none of this is necessary. ‘Quit fussin’ over me’ and so on.

You know that after this, Joel will try to leave you, go home and fiddle with things in his home that aren’t broken - or worse yet, he’ll tinker with the things in yours that he deems in need of fixing. Squeaky door, creaky floor panels. You listen to his slight wheezing, his sniffling, his voice all raspy and broken. He really does need to rest, the poor man. 

If you had cough syrup, you’d use that to put his ass to sleep. But you don’t, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. 

You remove the damp rag from Joel’s head and set it on the coffee table behind you. Joel’s eyes are shut as he takes shallow breaths, and you trace lazy patterns on his stomach, inching your way down, down, until you’re rubbing his warm bulge, feeling him stiffen beneath your touch. “Goddamnit, what the hell are you doin’ t’me, now?” Joel groans. He takes your wrist and squeezes it gently in his grip.

“Nothing, Joel,” you answer innocently.

 “Bullshit, it’s - you’re - oh, fuck.” Joel bucks into your palm. You slide your hand beneath his sweatpants to touch his bare cock, amused at how Joel decided against wearing boxers today. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart. You gotta, you can’t–”

“Shhh,” you hush him. You drag your nails through his patch of coarse hair, playing with those long and wiry hairs. You palm his cock again, half hard and growing harder by the second. Before this goes further, you tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Lift up for me, Joel.”

Joel lifts his hips and you tug his sweats down the rest of the way, then continue touching him. You spit into your hand and pump him from top to bottom, taking special care to gently massage his balls when you reach the base of his cock. “Ohh, darlin’. Oh lord.” 

Joel’s stiffened to full length now. You kiss the tip of his cock, all the way down his shaft before licking your way back up, one long, fat stripe. You swirl your tongue around the head and dip your head, teasing him with it as you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him down your throat with each pass.

Joel moans, his sick voice breaking a little. He keeps a heavy hand on your bobbing hand and wonders what the hell he did to deserve this from you. He should have stopped fighting his sickness long ago if this is what was in the cards for him. 

Realization dawns on Joel. It all makes sense, why you’re sucking him off at this particular moment. You’re trying to put him to bed, you goddamn deviant. “You’re trouble,” he accuses. “I know exactly what you’re doin’.” 

“Hmm?” You turn your head to Joel, his cock still in your mouth. You bounce it against your inner cheek, and Joel groans at the lewd image of his cockhead bulging in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Joel says. “And let me - oh, fuck-” You drop your head low, taking all of him into your mouth. So deep that your nose is buried in his pubic hair. “Let me tell ya, darlin’, what you’re doin - it ain’t gonna work on me.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop. “It won’t?”

Joel shakes his head. “Mm-mm. You’re wastin’ your time.” 

“Oh. Well, I should stop, then.” 

You begin to pull off of his cock, but Joel forces you back down. “Nah, you don’t have t - you gotta give it your best shot, right?”

You smile with Joel’s cock in your mouth. What a fucking guy. You pull off of him only momentarily, garnering a protesting groan spilling from his lips. You take off your shirt and unbutton your pants. “Lemme help you with that, c’mere, darlin’,” Joel says, pulling your pants and panties down your legs. He unclasps your bra next, then sheds his own clothing. 

You take him right back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his length. This time, though, you play with your pussy. As you move up and down Joel’s shaft, you slip through your folds, dipping down to your wet hole to gather your arousal on your fingertips. You circle your clit a couple of times, then push your fingers in and out of your pussy. 

“You fuckin’ yourself on your fingers, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum, mouth stuffed full of Joel’s cock.

Joel pulls your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own, much thicker and longer ones. “Let me,” he says. “S’my job. Shouldn’t have t’do that to yourself, ‘less you wanna. Or if I say so.” 

Joel spreads your thighs wider. He moves his pointer and middle fingers up and down, exploring your slick, velvety pussy. He sucks those two fingers and then his thumb and rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, all swollen and wet with your arousal. You moan at the action, the vibration of your voice traveling right down his shaft and to his balls. He bucks himself into your mouth.

Joel inserts his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping in and out slowly before curling them upward, stroking right where you need him to. “Got a nice fuckin’ pussy,” he purrs with his hoarse, gravelly voice. You pulse around his fingers, and Joel admires the way your tight hole hugs him as he moves in and out of you. “She’s makin’ such a mess, drippin’ all over me.” 

You twist your fist up and down Joel’s shaft as you suck him, working him closer and closer to the edge. Joel’s content with this, the prospect of coming down your throat and fucking you with his fingers. But you have a different idea, and when his balls are tightening and his shaft is twitching, his breathing quickening, you pull off of him. 

Joel groans in frustration, but his anger is quickly eased when you straddle his hips. You reach between your legs for his cock and stroke it, dragging the tip through your folds, up and down, up and down, dipping it in and out of yourself to tease him. “You’re fightin’ dirty.” 

 Joel’s exercised enough self control today and doesn’t let you tease him for long. He puts both of his large, weathered, and masculine hands on your waist and pulls you right down on his cock, the initial penetration causing a stretch so intense you see stars for a second. “Oh god, Joel,” you moan, clutching his shoulders. 

“I know, I know,” Joel whispers, rubbing your back. “You good, sweetheart? You need a minute?”

 “Just - just a second.”

 “Take your time. Know it’s a lot, you’ll get used to it.” 

Joel gives you a second, then inches you up and down on his cock to get you adjusted to the sensation of being so full of him. Soon enough, the ache dissipates and is replaced with pleasure, nothing but pure pleasure. You rest against his hot body, rocking your hips to grind against his pubic bone. 

You know that by the way he bucked his hips into your mouth, how he pulled you down on his cock, how even now he moves you, that he’ll tire himself out. Your plan was simply to make him come to knock him out, but this - this works too. Exhaust his body, get yourself off in the process. Killing two birds with one stone. 

Joel fucks you harder now, hands on your ass to move you up and down on his cock. He bends his legs at the knee for more leverage, bouncing you on his lap. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts. He moves you so that your chest is right above his face, and one at a time, sucks your nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing them. 

You hold onto Joel’s broad shoulders to steady yourself, looking down at him as he fucks himself into you. He’s so handsome, cheeks and chest all flushed red, a sheen of sweat glittering at his hairline, his graying curls damp. Joel’s eyebrows are knit together as he fucks you, tracing your curves with his gaze. He pulls you against his chest as he ruts against you, his scruff scratching your skin so deliciously. “Takin’ me so good. Look so pretty on my cock like this.” 

You move at his will. Joel’s underneath you, rocking himself  in and out of your dripping, tight pussy. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips stuttering in a non-rhythm as he pushes himself inside you over and over. He must be getting close now. 

“Up, sweetheart. Lean back f’me.” 

You peel yourself off of Joel’s middle, all slick with his sweat. Joel spits into his hand and presses the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. You roll your hips against him, savoring that much-needed friction against your clit.

“Like that, darlin’. Jus’ like that. Fuck yourself on my cock,” Joel says, rubbing your sensitive bud with tight circles. “Gonna watch you come all over me.” 

“Yeah,” you moan, “Wanna come for you.” 

Joel loves you like this. Your face contorted in pleasure, mouth agape, body quivering and twitching on top of him. He steadily massages your wet, swollen clit and wears a crooked smile when he feels your cunt start to pulse around him. And you think you’re pulling one over on him, but look at you, all fucked out and delirious. You’ll probably crash after this, and Joel will go right back to fixing up your house. There’s a door hinge that’s been squeaking…

“Oh my - Joel, I’m - I’m gonna -” 

“Know you are, sweetheart. Let me have it,” he groans, voice all broken and hoarse. “Come all over my cock, darlin’. Let go f’me.” 

That hot, sticky pleasure in your gut begins to intensify rapidly. You go quiet just before it happens, then let out a long, whimpering moan when your orgasm takes over your body. You shudder and jerk as Joel fucks you through your release, and once you’ve ridden it out, Joel pulls you tight against his chest. 

While you come down from your high, Joel frantically fucks you, slamming his hips against yours as he chases his own climax, balls tightening and his belly filling with warmth. “Oh, goddamn. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joel pants as he comes, painting your insides with his hot seed, the warmth of his release and the pulsing of his cock so satisfying. 

Coming down from his orgasm, a wave of exhaustion hits Joel. He finds himself unable to move, unable to open his heavy eyelids. He might’ve been wrong, because napping away the rest of the afternoon doesn’t sound quite so bad, now.

You pull your body off of Joel’s and he lets out a sighing grunt when his softening cock slides out of your body, the mess he created with you spilling all over his lap. You grab that washrag you held against his forehead and clean him up and then yourself, then get up to dispose of it. 

Joel grabs you by the arm, his grip weak. “Don’t you go anywhere, trouble,” he grumbles. 

“But I’ve gotta take care of this, Joel,” you protest. 

“Deal with it later. Just -” Joel yawns and pulls you down and holds you tight against his chest, as tight as he can, anyway. “Jus’ stay with me a minute.” 

Joel’s eyes are still shut, and his breathing becomes slow and rhythmic. It’s laughable how quickly sleep is taking over his sick, exhausted body, having used what little life he had in himself to fuck you stupid. Like that last burst of energy from a dying star. “I thought you weren’t tired,” you tease.

Joel sniffles. “M’not.” 

“Mhm. Sure.” 

“Just checkin’ my eyelids for holes.”

You push some curls out of Joel’s face and hold your palm against his cheek, still hot with his fever. He’s so peaceful looking like this, plump lips pouting as he breathes through his mouth. You bring your face close to his and close the gap by pressing a little kiss against his lips. 

“What’re you kissin’ me for, hm?” 

“I want to,” you reply, kissing him again.

“Gonna get yourself sick,” Joel murmurs groggily, eyes still closed. “Which means in a couple days, I get to do all this right back to you. S'payback, darlin’.”

You chuckle. And in just a few short seconds, Joel’s snoring lightly, dead to the world.

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with thoughts or comment or hop in my inbox! Your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write 💕

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. “All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[lovscb97]

tags: step-brother!park jongseong x fem!reader, d/s dynamics, dom!jay x sub!reader, manipulation lowkey?, implied male masturbation, kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, use of nicknames (baby, princess, jjongie, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), spit kink, begging, daddy kink, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, choking, praise kink, creampie, fluff and uncertainty at the end, etc

wc: 4.12k

add. notes: ok i know i said i would Not upload soon much less written work either but guess who lied!!! no but fr my mood was pretty terrible yst morning bcs of some stupid classmates not contributing to group work but u know what i had food n ice cream w my friend n i felt a bit better at the least. it still doesn’t excuse their actions but ya anyways bcs of my peace of mind n bcs i finished my part for my presentation, i present to u a Very long stepbro jay fic hehe.. some parts or sentences may look familiar but that's cus i acc sent them to a blog here as anon messages LMFAO but yea i hope u guys enjoy :3 icon creds to @/purinkiss btw!

. . . 

ever since your parents’ divorce, your entire world shattered. it only got worse when your dad announced he’d be bringing home a new woman, much less one who had a child the same age as you. of course, you disagreed at first, throwing harsh words at him up until the point he forced you to meet the delinquent, dragging you by the arm to the restaurant where you were to have dinner with whoever these random people who were about to become part of your small family circle were. you’d even made a firm promise to yourself to not entertain them and to be petty, whether that translated through snide remarks or rolling your eyes, and you swear you really were going to go through with it—

that is, until you met jay.

jay was nothing like you’d imagined him to be. in your head, your new, soon-to-be stepbrother was an ugly, rude and snobby brat who didn’t give two cents about joining your family, the jay you met in reality though? everything but that. he was sweet, and polite, and absolutely fucking gorgeous; blonde hair swept back with a strand falling over his forehead, lean shoulders outlined in the tight fitting black shirt he’d decided to wear for the occasion, and a smile worth a thousand bucks or even dying for. any words that were previously on the tip of your tongue died down when he took your hand in his to shake it, the soft feel of his skin and his bright grin making your insides positively melt and the thoughts of your parents split dissipate within seconds. 

your stepbrother’s attitude and good looks carried through the months you spent with him too. if anything, it became even more reinforced with him taking care of you whenever you needed him. he’d handle sharp objects for you while making your favourite food, hold your hand on the street if you had to cross the road, carry your bags when they got too heavy, rush in front of the door to open it for you, and so, so much more. you were at a privilege to be able to watch him walk around with nothing but a simple shirt and sweatpants around the house too, shamelessly raking your eyes over his attractive features and boring them into his back when he leaned over the stovetop to cook you ramen. 

part of you felt like a perv, for behaving this way and finding him good looking even if he objectively was. you knew it wasn’t like you could help it, you had eyes and they obviously saw what was in front of you, but you tried shoving it down anyways. it also didn’t help that jay constantly hovered around you and made your relationship out to be so.. domestic. he’d narrow his eyes when he caught you talking on the phone to your friends about your latest hook-up, lecturing you on the use of safe sex and how college boys were no good for you until you were red in the face with embarrassment, or he’d offer for the both of you to hang out together after classes ended for you every other day, draping a blanket over your figures and scooching in close to you up until you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. your dad and his new wife thought nothing of it despite your mind spinning, cooing over how well you two got along and relishing in the fact that their children were such good siblings already.

oh, if only they were aware of the twisted fantasies swirling in jongseong’s mind.

because from the minute jay saw you, he knew he had to have you. your pretty face, your soft-spoken voice, and of course, your fucking body. he felt like he was about to lose his damn mind when he first saw you walk around the house in nothing but skimpy shorts and that stupid pink top that left nothing up to the imagination. to an extent, it almost felt like you were teasing him on purpose, especially when he’d find you seated on the couch with your exposed thighs and the subtle dip of your cleavage peeking through the measly clothes that practically coaxed him to sport a hard-on right then and there. it’d be the dead of night when he’d finally find some relief after a day of watching you parade around the kitchen, wondering what it would feel like to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pull your nose flush to his pelvis with him nestled deep inside your throat. and it was only when jongseong came all over his hand and sheets for the nth time after fantasising about you that he realised he needed to do something about this, whether that went against his moral compass or not.

it started with light touches. 

jay would grasp your shoulder to move past you when you were in the way, barely mumbling an ‘excuse me’ to alert you of his presence so you wouldn’t practically jump out of your skin when he did so. his hand would linger in yours for a second too long when he tried not losing you in crowds, gently commanding you to stay close to him in that stern tone of his that made your panties stick to you. it was common etiquette, you thought, he was just doing his job as a brother would normally do for his sister, but the only thing in jongseong’s mind was to make you let down your guard, let it down so much that he could swoop in at the perfect time to take advantage of it. he knew it was wrong, so sinister and dark to want to fuck his own stepsister to the point the only way he could get it up was to the thought of you, but jay didn’t care about any of that at this point, far too fucked out in his own head to think of having eyes for anyone but you.

and as expected, all throughout this, you didn’t suspect a thing. how could you? jay was so perfect, so well-mannered and so attentive. he listened to you rant about anything trivial in your life and drove you around when you wanted to meet up with your girls. he’d wake up late at night if you had a bad dream, consoling you even through the sight of your tears making him worked up, and rub your back softly when you needed to be taken care of. he’d let you sneak back in the house after you’d told your dad you were going out to the library to study, making up excuses for you when your lies fell short. he had your back, and in turn, you had his, so you would’ve never thought of him as anything but a gentleman and big brother.

until everything he did grew into more. 

until having an arm behind your carseat while looking into the rearview mirror turned into placing his hand on your thigh, inches away from the seam of your skirt. until sitting next to him while watching a movie with a shared blanket turned into him nuzzling against you under the covered fabric. until having dinner with both your parents present at the dinner table turned into his foot grazing against yours ever so slightly.

until your honey-like voice calling out for him to help you get the glass on the top cabinet turned into full blown moans of you getting eaten out on the living room couch, echoing throughout the empty house because of-fucking-course, your parents were out for the night on a dinner date.

you weren’t even sure how it happened. one minute, you were struggling to reach on your tippy toes, your mouth instinctively moving to utter jay’s name because he was the only one besides you at home who could help out, but the next, he was pressing up against you to the point of grinding himself into your ass, causing you both to inhale sharply. you vaguely recall turning around, ready to ask what your stepbrother was doing when you’d caught sight of his darkened eyes, practically eyeing you like a piece of meat. and by the time anything even registered in your mind, his lips were already on yours, and his hand was dragging you over to the couch in record time.

“j-jay, we shouldn’t be doing this.” you stuttered out, your voice meek and quiet as you tried not to roll your eyes back at the sight of him slurping up your juices. he didn’t respond, instead opting to move his mouth up to focus on your clit, sucking it into the hot cavern and rolling his tongue against it to the point it had you seeing stars. you knew it was wrong, going against so many moral standpoints and rules, but god did it feel so good. you quickly came to understand that the jay who was going down on you currently was nothing like the jay who engages with you in your day to day life. that jay is gentle, well-meaning and answers all your questions despite how dumb they may seem. but this jay? he’s fucking filthy, messy to the point you can tell your juices are dribbling down his chin.

“fuck, you taste so good.” he gasps out when he finally decides to pull away. “thought about this so much when jerking off.” your eyes widen at his crude admittance, and you know you really should be disgusted at it, but something about the idea of jay being alone in the darkness of his room, hand wrapped around himself while saying your name under his breath only makes you wet, even more so than you already are. at the back of your mind, something screams at you to stop, but you’ve already gotten a taste of what your stepbrother can provide you, and you’d be damned if you didn’t stick around to find out more about it. 

“this is wrong.” you quietly admit anyways, even if it’s not what you want to say. but jay just hums, leaning down to hover above your figure as his arms cage you in underneath him, doing very little to help the fact of how much smaller you feel below him. his lips ghost the shell of your ear as you shiver at the proximity between you two, and he gently nips at it, leaving you biting your tongue to hold back the noises you long yearn to let out. “i know it is, baby, but doesn’t it feel so fucking good?” jay questions with a low chuckle, pulling away to cock his head to the side. you curse internally at the way the nickname sounds coming from him, a dust of light pink spreading across your cheeks because fuck, how can someone be so alluring at all times?

“don’t you want to feel even better, princess?” jay’s voice draws you out, and you hold back a moan at the way he grinds his clothed bulge against your bare opening, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s slowly convincing you over to the dark side. “don’t you want your big brother to spread this pussy open and fuck it ‘till you’re crying from how good it feels?” you almost nod, trying to resist the urge to buck your hips up to catch the sensation of his lower region against you once more. instead, you choose to turn your face away from his striking gaze staring you down, but jay just grips your jaw and turns you to face him once more, the action only making your insides swirl with delight.

“still, what if your mom and my dad find out?” you mumble, and jay just grins wickedly. he swoops in, dipping his head down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that makes you giddy with joy, sneaking his tongue past the opening of your mouth to lick into it. when he pulls back, there’s a thin line of spit connection you both, prompting you to squirm at the sight to which jay’s chest rumbles with laughter. “you’re so fucking cute, y’know that? been dreaming of having your pretty body underneath me since i met you.” he admits lowly, your wide eyes only spurring him on further. “wanna know what i think?” you slowly nod, unsure of where this is going. jay’s voice drops an octave lower as he leans in close and whispers—

“i think you’re a dirty, little slut who deserves to get fucked by her big brother.”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you at his words this time, and that’s all the confirmation jay needs to sit up and tear off his shirt, bringing to life all the fantasies you’ve had about his body this entire time. you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to touch him, nails grazing across the ridges of his toned stomach and the dip of his v-line that’s hiding the very thing you’ve been craving under his sweatpants. meanwhile, jay just watches you with lust swirling in his orbs, a small smirk playing at his swollen lips as he takes in the picture of your innocent little face ogling his figure. “you like what you see, don’t you, pretty?” he murmurs, biting his lip at the way you nod in shame. “don’t worry.” jay grunts, standing momentarily to loop his fingers inside the edges of his pants. “you’ll get what you’re craving real soon.” he winks before he’s yanking the only thing separating you both down, exposing himself in all his glory to your awaiting eyes at last. 

“goddamnit, it’s pretty.” you think to yourself when your eyes finally settle on your stepbrother’s dick. the tip is an angry shade of red, dribbling with a few beads of precum that your face falls at when jay swipes them away with his thumb as he wraps his large hand around himself. your disappointment is short-lived, however, because he’s back on top of you soon, holding the very same thumb up to your awaiting mouth to taste, to which you eagerly wrap your lips around, the salty flavour of him invading your senses. “good girl.” jongseong commends as you suckle at the tip of his finger, the praise going straight to your core. he pulls his hand away from you after a short while, that same wet thumb snaking its way down to find your clit and pressing against it, which does nothing but rip a noise of satisfaction from you. jay continues to rub at your engorged nub, his gaze fixated on the sight of your pussy as if he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“shit. i can’t wait any more.” he growls after another second, retracting his hand to wrap it around himself instead, pumping once or twice before he’s pressing the head against your awaiting entrance. you watch with bated breath as he rubs against your folds, slicking up with your oozing juices until your patience starts wearing thin. “jay,” you huff after a minute, legs kicking up in frustration as your stepbrother glances at you teasingly. “what do you want, angel? use your big girl words and tell me.” he smiles, almost innocent to the point you even forget the compromising position you’re both in.

“want.. want you.” you admit shyly, averting your eyes to a forgotten corner in the room as jay tsk’s. “look at me when you speak, whore.” he spits out, his entire demeanour changing in an instant. it only makes you leak even more, and you swallow thickly, eyes pleading. “please fuck me, please. wan’ you to do what you said, spreading me open and using me until i cry, please, please, please. jjongie, daddy, please, i—“

you don’t even get the chance to finish because by the time both the nickname and title leave your mouth, jay has long lost his composure, instantly pushing inside you as he attempts to bottom out his large cock. he hisses at the way your warm walls envelop him, and the only thing you can do is cry out at the way you’re being stretched out to your limit, finally having the emptiness inside you satiated with the presence of your stepbrother’s dick. “fuuuck, that’s it, look at this tiny, little hole sucking me in.” jay curses, and you flare red in embarrassment at his nasty words, ignoring the way they only make you gush around him even more. 

“i’m going to absolutely ruin you, baby.” is the only thing jay says before he’s pulling out and slamming himself back into you, leaving you to cry out as his mushroom tip instantly hits that one spot deep inside. his thrusts are erratic, filled with a fervour none of the other guys you’ve ever slept with had, and you think the way he’s fucking you now is definitely going to rectify his promise of fucking you until you’re crying, the occasion seeming to be very well on its way of happening. 

“fuck, there is no way this is the last time we’re doing this.” jay groans, the noise of skin slapping and your moans echoing throughout the living room as he continues absolutely drilling you. each drag of his cock drives into you with sheer power and raw desire to completely destroy you it seems, and you’re sure nobody is ever going to top it. “gonna use you everywhere, every time i please. you want that too, don’t you? tell me you do, princess. tell me and daddy will fuck you like he means it every single time.” he blurts out. the only way you can respond is through incoherently mumbling and the nodding of your head, far too dazed out already at the way your stepbrother is pounding into you, which only draws a breathy laugh from jay. “seems i’ve fucked you dumb already, huh? cock that good? so good it’s got my baby all dumb?” he taunts. you only whine at his words, drool spilling out from the side of your lips which jay wipes off with a chuckle.

“i’m already close, god.” he sighs, his movements unrelenting and balls tightening with the way they slap against your ass. “want me to cum inside you? for daddy to breed this pussy full? maybe i should do it and make you walk around with my seed lodged deep in your messy cunt.” jay hisses, his hand snaking it ways to your neck as he continues talking. “bet you’d like that ‘cause you’re a filthy fucking bitch. letting your stepbrother fuck your tight cunt as he pleases.” slender fingers wrap around the skin and tighten their grip slightly to restrict your airflow, and that’s all it takes to abruptly push you over the edge, leaving you dropping your mouth open in a silent scream as you cum. jay continues fucking you through your high, making out your small mewls amongst the lewd sounds of his cock shoving into your hole. 

“good girl, good fucking girl. did so well for me, came so much all for daddy. you’re so, so good to me, princess. fuck, i love you.” jay blabbers as he lets go of your neck, too lost in chasing his own peak to even realise what he’s just admitted. you don’t catch it fully either in your haze of overstimulation that he continues to fuck you through, but some unconscious part of you mutters it back as best as you can somehow. jay’s heart swells at the way you take him, so small and pliant for him to just use for his own good, and he leans in to smash his lips against yours, drinking in your loud sounds as his movements start to falter with his upcoming release washing over him. 

“just a bit more, pretty, just a bit. such a good fucking girl for daddy, letting him use your body, fuck. i’m gonna cum deep inside you, angel. gonna reward you with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? like me to creampie this precious hole?” jay stammers out, the coil in his stomach close to snapping. he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up his exterior, sweat dripping down his forehead and closed eyes as his tired hips continue ramming his cock into you. he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, cracking his orbs open to find your fucked out face mumbling for his cum, your legs wrapping against his waist to keep him locked into you. 

“cum in me, daddy, please cum in me. wan’ your cum, i’ll take it like a good girl. please, daddy.” you babble, and that’s all it takes to send jay over the edge too, loud groans leaving his mouth as he shoots thick ropes of white inside your walls, painting them with his release. he cums for what feels like forever, holding your body close to his as his cock throbs inside your spasming cunt that’s still greedily sucking him in, urging him to fill you up. he finally stops after seemingly a good minute, panting against your neck where he’s buried his face into as he lets the post-orgasm bliss wash over himself.

“fuck,” jay heaves a breath once he’s finally recovered, making sure to use his softening cock to keep you plugged up in fear his cum will drip down and stain the couch, much less make your scandalous activities known to both your parents. he knows he’s going to have to face the reality of everything soon, but for now, he chooses to ignore it, propping himself up with an arm as he takes a look at your tired face that’s still so beautiful even after he basically fucked you within an inch of your life.

“you okay?” he asks softly after a while, prompting you to open your eyes and look up at him. there’s so much love and adoration in them that it makes jay feel all gooey inside, and when you nod with a small smile on your lips, he can’t help but lean back in and kiss you, desperately wishing this won’t be the last time he feels your mouth on his. “you think we made a mess?” you wonder out loud with a giggle once he’s pulled away, and jay just laughs breathlessly at you, brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face to take a proper look. “i’ll clean it up if so, don’t worry, baby.” he reassures in a quiet voice, leaving you to hum in agreement as a response.

“jay.” 

“hm?”

“..what now?” 

jay inhales when you bring forth the question he doesn’t have an answer to, looking down at you to find your worried expression staring back at him. he coos when you jut out your bottom lip, brushing a thumb against your cheek smoothly as he sighs. “don’t worry about that now, princess. just sleep.” he murmurs. 

he can tell you’re not entirely satisfied with his admission, and that you want to say something more, but even if you do, you choose not to, instead opting to follow his advice and shutting your eyes by letting the fatigue from what you’d just been through take over your body. jongseong watches as you slowly close off your thoughts and mind, gently resting his body weight on top of you in favour of pulling you closer. he tries to avoid thinking of the inevitable that’ll come to wake him up, but he’ll deal with that later, choosing to bask in this moment with you for as long as he can before he has to face reality. instead, he presses a small kiss to your cheek, nuzzling it with his nose before closing his own eyes. he eventually drifts off to dreamland, where his thoughts will still be filled with your face.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[thatpikmin]

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // I.

baby daddy!sukuna x reader

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different | wc: 1,653 | read this for more context

note: I hope I got the honorifics right lol please correct me if I didn't

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

You didn’t think it was possible for a five year old to render you speechless, nor did you think she was capable of making your former lover blush the deepest shade of tomato red. You part your lips in surprise, stunned as you look down at her innocent expression. She’s sitting on your living room floor, her face perched on her palms with her elbows resting against the coffee table. Her wide eyes drift between you and Sukuna sitting on the sofa, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she tilts her head slightly out of intrigue.

“Mama?” She presses, begging for an answer.

Your mouth moves but no words come out. You’re trying to formulate a proper response that’s palatable for her, one that will be enough to subdue any further questions.

Except you’re not quite sure how to answer: “why don’t you and daddy ever kiss?” without making her pry even more into your history with her father.

Sukuna runs his large palms back and forth nervously over his thigh, the muscles on his inked forearms tensing up.

“We kiss,” you fib, because what else are you supposed to say, “of course we do!”

Your daughter’s face falters, and she quirks her brow as sassily as her father when they both mirror the same expression to look at you.

You glance back at Sukuna, giving him an awkward smile because at least you said something all the while he just sat there. 

“No, you don’t…” your daughter insists.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right…we do…of course, we do…” Sukuna pipes in with a mumble, finally catching on to your attempts as he reverts his attention on to his precious girl.

“I’ve never seen it,” she points out with a pout, scolding her father playfully in return.

“That’s because we don’t do it in front of you,” Sukuna remarks. “Besides, who wants to see their parents kiss?”

His daughter rolls her eyes, “all other mommies and daddies do it, except you guys. It makes no sense…”

She’s got the tiniest voice and the softest lisp, but her attitude is entirely her father. She’s bold and blunt, never afraid to say exactly what she’s thinking or to point the obvious.

“Oji-san kisses oba-san in front of Shiro…” she mumbles, dropping both her hands onto the coffee table and crumpling the paper that she is using to draw her little family portrait.

At the mention of his younger brother Sukuna can’t help but grimace. Yuji was incredibly affectionate towards his wife, wearing his heart on his sleeve entirely which just makes Sukuna grumble with annoyance. He’s always been a little envious of his younger brother, who never had to face the world as harshly as Sukuna. With an eleven year gap between them, Sukuna witnessed his parents becoming actual parents. They were young when they had him, and therefore had no clue what it took to raise or take care of a child. Sukuna was caught in the middle of their relationship for most of his childhood, all the while Yuji got to see the peaceful harmony once they finally made up.

“I’m just saying…” your daughter adds on, “…it’s weird.”

You breathe out a sigh in defeat, knowing full well that she won’t let go of the subject until she gets some consolation.

So incredibly stubborn just like her dad.

Without considering the repercussions, you reach your hand out and clutch Sukuna’s chin delicately between your fingers. You tilt his head towards you, noticing the slow register of your touch wash over his face as you lean up to kiss his cheek.

However, you misjudged your aim, because Sukuna tilted his head down in return, and you wound up leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.

Your lips lingered for only a few seconds, three to be exact, before you retracted and turned towards your daughter.

“See?” You insist, holding onto Sukuna’s chin like it’s evidence between your fingers. “We kiss!”

Your daughter’s mouth forms into a line, clearly unimpressed. The older she’s getting the more she’s picking up on the little things that you guys were hiding so well.

But it’s still way too complicated, and you and Sukuna haven't even discussed how to approach this yet.

“I guess,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, before returning to her drawing.

You didn’t even know that Sukuna has his focus still locked onto your lips tuntil you turn to look back at him.His gaze is soft, the muscles of his handsome features melting between your touch. There’s a hint of sorrow that twinkles in his eyes, and when you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth apologetically, you notice that you left a lipstick stain in your wake.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and carefully use your thumb to swipe over the mark.

But your heart seizes quickly, your spine growing still when Sukuna mildly inches forward like he’s about to go in for another kiss.

You remember what it was like to kiss him. He was an exceptionally good kisser, even though he probably doesn’t know it himself. You’ve spent hours losing time locked against those lips, allowing his tongue to taste every last drop of you.

There’s a twitch in your chest, everything around you going quiet. Heat pricks the back of your neck when his lips draw just a breath away from yours, and you swear to yourself that he grazed over your mouth with a featherlight touch.

But Sukuna stops suddenly, catching himself.

“Be right back,” he whispers, his voice dipping so low you can’t help but clench your thighs together.

He shoots up from his seat, detangling quickly as he brushes you off, and leaving you to stare aimlessly at his broad back and overbearing muscles. Your sofa suddenly appears a lot larger with all that free space.

You press both hands to your cheeks, licking your lips as the apprehension runs through you as a cold chill. You can’t even remember when was the last time you kissed the father of your child, but you didn’t think that such a small act would have such a lingering effect.

You thought you were over this. Over him. That chapter was closed a long, long time ago.

You look up at the cause of this unexpected interaction, your daughter’s short attention span keeping her focused on her doodle while she hums to herself.

Sukuna returns with his head held high a few minutes after, and plops down on the sofa with his weight prompting you to bounce lightly in place.

That’s when you felt it, a hint of cold hitting your brow like a tiny droplet of rain.

Your furrow your brows then notice that your Sukuna’s hair is actually damp, with little tears trickling down the back of his neck.

The tips of his ears are still burning red.

You part your lips in awe.

Sukuna is a master at making you blush. At making any woman blush, frankly. But you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen that reaction on him.

It stuns you how much it suits him, and surprises you even more of just how cute he looks trying to hide it.

“Daddy, can you help me?” Your daughter asks, finally focusing back on the two of you while her finger draws out an outline of what appears to be two arms.

“Whatever you want, Princess…” Sukuna responds, and obediently gets up from his seat.

He perches himself on the floor, the size difference between him and your little girl doing nothing to help the sudden hammering in your chest.

He’s so, so gentle with her.

She crawls onto his lap, holding the sheet of paper in her hand, before setting herself back up while sitting on his thighs.She points to the drawing with her index finger, “I don’t know how to draw your tattoos…”

Sukuna chuckles, a glimpse of his smile making you to scratch the warmth off the back of your neck.

He picks up a black pencil, “you’re a better artist than me, kid,” he states honestly, “not quite sure what I can do to help…”

She wraps her arms around his neck, leaving her dad to carry on the effort.

“I’ll explain the shapes and you draw it!” She says with a kiss to his cheek.

It’ll never cease to amaze you how easily he bends to her will. Sukuna had no interest in any of this, and was obstinate in every sense of the word. Nothing could turn that man into a docile cat except when it comes to your little girl. He’s present with her, this part of him just so different, and even after five years it still feels a tad unfamiliar.

There’s a slight tightness in your throat because this is all you wanted when you were together. After the break up and surprise pregnancy, you didn’t realize how hard he took it when you told him that you have zero expectations of him being involved in your daughter’s life. You were just informing him out of moral obligation, but something switched on inside him after that.

It may not have been for you, but he made that change for her, and seeing them together now, you recognize just how much that man loves his little girl.

That fact alone makes you undeniably happy.

So happy you wish you could give him a real kiss for it.

Your daughter moves to pat his head in gesture of a good job as Sukuna follows her instructions to the T, but her faces scrunches with disgust when she threads her fingers between his locks.

“Daddy, why is your hair wet?”

Sukuna brings his free hand to massage the back of her scalp, “Pay attention to the drawing, missy…and stop asking so many damn, I mean uh-darn questions…” he responds, leaving a kiss on her brow and doing everything in his power to make sure that he avoids looking back at you.

tag: @selarina @yuujispinkhair @blush-bambi @tojislittleprincesss

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ PARTNERS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationship, you and suguru are partnered for a project instead of satoru…and he doesn’t take the news lightly, dramatic toru and INSTIGATOR suguru

satoru is sulking—you’d find it a little amusing any other day, but he seems a bit more upset than usual. and quite frankly, suguru isn’t really helping things out either, so you feel just a little bad.

“baby,” you poke his cheek, “it’s not our fault! we just got randomly assigned—”

“whatever,” he huffs. you tug at his arm, but he pulls it away.

it just so happens that the three of you seem to share a class this semester—but unfortunately, suguru is assigned as your partner for a project. it’s the same project satoru wanted to be paired with you for. he seems convinced it’ll be you and him that are called—which, in all honesty, the likelihood of being paired with you out of the multiple people in the class is low, but it’s only added insult to injury that suguru had the odds in his favor.

satoru is not handling it well.

“toru,” you insist, pinching his cheek in hopes to cheer him up. he scowls at you—as if this is your fault, “c’mon, cheer up! now that it’s suguru, you can just tag along when we work—”

“tag along?” he cuts you off, tone bordering on hurt, “so now i’m the third wheel?”

oh dear.

“n-no!” you say quickly—suguru has the audacity to snicker, earning a warning glance from you, “you’re never the third wheel, toru. you’re the first wheel! the only wheel. really!”

“y’know,” suguru starts—you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to make things ten times worse. you try (and fail) to glare at him until he’s silent. “if i recall, the two of you got together through a project, didn’t you? who knows, maybe you’ll have the biggest crush on me after this is over.”

suguru drops the bomb and winks. you look at him like you want to kill him. satoru’s face is devastated.

you think this might be the end.

“what?” satoru gasps, turning to you quickly, “tell him that’s impossible, tell him! tell him he’s hideous and that you only have eyes for me—”

“toru, of course i only have eyes for you, don’t listen to him, he’s just pushing your buttons—”

“hey, you never know. i might charm you,” suguru adds fuel to the fire—this time, you throw your water bottle at him. he catches it with ease, throwing you a smug grin that makes you scowl deeper.

“you’re hideous, suguru,” satoru spits, “no way anyone would leave me for you—”

“that already happened. remember your girlfriend in middle school?”

“that doesn’t count! we were too young to know what love was back then!”

satoru is practically inconsolable now—you consider dropping out of this class just for the sake of peace. maybe you can take it over the summer and be paired with a random stranger that won’t bother your dramatic boyfriend. maybe you can evade the project altogether with a different professor. maybe you can kill suguru and the misfortune of a dead partner can grant you an automatic exemption from this assignment.

you weigh your options as satoru slumps with a pout.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “i don’t even care. have fun without me.”

suguru chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. you sigh before cupping satoru’s cheeks and giving him a small kiss to his forehead to cheer him up.

not surprisingly, it doesn’t seem to work.

“cheer up, baby,” you reason, “at least since it’s just suguru, you won’t have to leave us alone to work! it won’t be awkward if you’re there too.”

“but you’ll be too busy working with suguru to talk to me,” he says bitterly.

“at least i’ll have a handsome face to keep me motivated,” you grin, kissing his jaw—now that…that seems to cheer him up considerably. he brightens, plastering that usual smug grin he sports, as if the world around him wasn’t ending just moments ago.

“i am handsome, aren’t i?” he hums, wrapping an arm around you—mission accomplished, you think happily.

“yeah,” you nod quickly, “and suguru is hideous anyway. i’d never leave you for someone with a tacky man bun—”

“hey, leave my hair out of this—”

“it is pretty tacky,” satoru nods and agrees.

suguru crosses his arms, glaring at the both of you before he opens his mouth to retaliate. you cut in before he can say anything else to worsen satoru’s mood any further.

“and maybe you can help me—you’re smarter than suguru too.”

“he is not—”

“you’re right baby,” satoru hums, “maybe this is for the best. i’ll save both of your grades this way.”

suguru’s vein all but pops. “we don’t need your help—”

“don’t worry suguru,” satoru grins confidently, pointing to himself with his thumb, “i’ll save your grade. no need to thank me—ow!”

you watch tiredly as suguru throws your water bottle at satoru’s head—it’s going to be a long project.

i already know the switch boy! au people are gonna start the “suguru definitely wants reader” comments. i’m waiting for them i can sense them already