#I need to do things wrong on purpose I think that would fix me

[strawberry-seal77]

hhhhgf I can do whatever I want forever

[mssishipi]

soft love — pjs

— in which you found purpose in jay's control that love was so soft to be touch and tight enough to never let go.

warnings: dark romance, emotional manipulation, psychological control, jay is older than reader, power imbalance, dependency, themes of submission and ownership. explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, implied breeding kink. MDNI

Dating older guys, they said, would be so good.

"They’re more mature," they told you. "Patient. Experienced. They know how to take care of you. They’ll spoil you, treat you like a queen."

Jay was all of those things and more.

He was sweet in that effortless, older-man way, never fumbling or awkward, always knowing the right thing to say, always knowing exactly what you wanted before you even said it. He'd buy you things without you having to ask. Something you liked, something you needed and the next day, it was waiting in your hands like magic. Clothes, jewelry, rides, trips... everything.

He gave you the kind of love that made it easy—too easy—to fall into him. And you did.

He made you feel safe, special. Protected. Like nothing in the world could hurt you as long as you were his. Like you didn’t need to worry about anything anymore.

And little by little, you stopped.

You stopped checking your own schedule because Jay always had plans for both of you. You stopped talking to certain friends—Jay didn’t like them anyway. You stopped doing a lot of little things because he took care of them for you... until you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

He became your whole world. And at first, that was intoxicating.

But it started to shift. You didn’t notice it all at once. The control didn’t come like a storm. It came in whispers.

In little comments, like: "You don’t need to go out tonight, stay with me instead." Or: "Why do you even talk to him? You know I don’t like it." Then one day, it was: "Wear this instead, I don’t want other guys looking at you."

And when you pushed back, even gently—just asking questions, wanting to understand—he’d smile that same sweet smile he always had. But it didn’t feel sweet anymore. It felt like warning.

He was still patient. Still spoiled you. Still called you "baby" with that soft voice that once made your stomach flutter.

But, sometimes, it made your skin crawl.

Because when Jay got angry—really angry—it wasn’t loud. It was cold, still and heavy. He didn’t yell. His silence said enough. His glare made your heart skip beats for all the wrong reasons. You forgot how kind he could be in those moments. You only remembered the way your breath caught when you saw the shift in his eyes.

"Love, my friends are planning to visit Indonesia, can I go with them?" 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You speak without looking up, your fingertips nervously playing with the edge of your sleeve, eyes fixed on Jay as he types away on his laptop across the room. You already know what he's going to say, but you ask anyway—half-hoping for something different this time.

Jay doesn’t stop typing, not at first. The rhythm of the keys continues for a beat too long, the silence between you stretching thin. Then, without looking up, his voice comes out flat. 

"I told you, I’m not comfortable with your friends." Click. Click. "Didn’t one of them have a scandal at some bar? They’re a bad influence."

You flinch, "love, it’s not a scandal," you murmur, careful not to let your tone rise. "She was... she was a victim."

That’s when the keys stop. Just like that, the room feels heavier. His fingers hover above the keyboard.

You dare to glance up and regret it. He’s staring at you now. Not angry. Not yet. But disappointed, which somehow always hurts more. You hate that about yourself, how fast you shrink under his gaze, how quick your heart races when you think you’ve said the wrong thing.

"You always defend them," he says quietly. There’s no yelling, no raised voice, but you feel like you’ve been slapped.

"I’m just saying—" you start, but the words catch. Because what are you saying, really? What are you trying to prove?

He sighs, turns his eyes back to the screen. "I just want what’s best for you. I thought you knew that."

And just like that, the conversation ends. Why did I even ask for permission? That was never your mindset before. You were independent, assertive, unafraid to make your own choices. But somewhere along the way, that changed.

They say it’s normal, even healthy—asking for your partner’s approval. That’s what being in a relationship is, right? Compromise. Communication.

But you feel like you're being held tightly. Not by arms, but by invisible strings that pull every time you try to step too far away. The worst part is you don’t even want to fight it.

You don’t know anymore what’s right, or what’s normal. You just don’t want Jay to look at you like that again. You don’t want to see that shift in his eyes. You don’t want to feel that pit in your stomach, or the shame curling hot in your chest like you’ve done something wrong.

It hurts. Not the kind of hurt that bruises skin but the kind that seeps into your bones, the kind you carry without scars, but never really heal from.

The bed shifts with the familiar creak of weight settling beside you. The mattress dips, and even before he says a word, your body responds on instinct.

You turn toward him immediately, almost reflexively, slipping your arms around his waist and pressing your head against his chest. It’s automatic now, seeking his warmth, his presence. As if holding him tight enough could make everything feel okay again.

Jay’s hand finds your back, slow and soothing, running a few gentle strokes over your spine before settling there. The steady thump of his heart under your ear should feel comforting, but instead it leaves your chest heavy. You breathe in the clean, cool scent of his cologne. Familiar. Inescapable.

“We can go to Indonesia,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “Just the two of us, hm? What do you think?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead like a peace offering. You nod against him, almost automatically, the motion small and quiet.

It’s not what you wanted. But it’s something. And it’s him. That’s enough. Isn’t it? 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not sure if you’re apologizing for asking, or for pushing, or just for being difficult. You feel him pull you in tighter, his arms wrapping around you.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he says, his voice calm.

Your eyes sting, warmth welling up. You bite your lip, holding the tears back even though you know he can probably feel it—your breathing, just a little uneven now. You blink quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice the dampness gathering at the corners of your eyes.

You’re not sure what hurts more, that he does understand, or that he never really had to.

You nestle closer into his chest, burying yourself in him. You feel the steady rhythm of his heart, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his hand pressing gently against your back.

This moment is love. You’re lucky, so lucky, to have someone like Jay. That’s what everyone says.

A man who takes care of you, who thinks ahead, who plans things for you because he knows what’s best. A man who holds you at night, whispers apologies even when you feel like you were the one who did something wrong. A man who spoils you without asking, who says “I understand” even when you don’t deserve it.

He always knows how to bring it back to this. Where guilt fades into gratitude. Where you start to believe that maybe you are overreacting, maybe you are too sensitive, too quick to doubt someone who’s only trying to love you the right way.

Jay never yells. Never hits. He doesn't need to. He just speaks softly, slowly. He makes you feel like the bad decisions you make are your own—even when they were never really yours to begin with.

He listens, and then he corrects, but always gently, always with a calmness that makes you feel childish for pushing back. And every time you hesitate, he meets you with patience… and just enough disappointment to make your stomach twist with shame.

He gives you so much, how could you question him?

You remember the way he brought you your favorite drink after you got upset. The time he booked that surprise weekend trip just because you were stressed. The necklace you wear every day—he noticed you admiring it once and had it delivered within a week. He always comes back with something better. Something to make you forget the argument. Something to remind you that he's still the one holding everything together.

So maybe you were wrong about Indonesia. Maybe it’s selfish to want something he doesn't feel good about. Maybe you’re asking for too much.

Jay is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.  

That’s what you remind yourself, even when everything feels complicated. He’s perfect. Handsome in that effortless, masculine way, with a sharp jawline and steady eyes that seem to see right through you. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the kind of body that makes you feel small when he wraps around you. Safe.

He knows exactly how to touch you, how to take you apart and put you back together like you were made for his hands. There’s no awkward fumbling, no hesitations. He takes, and you give—because giving to Jay feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s expected. Like it’s right.

"J-Jay!" you gasp, your voice breaking as his pelvis slams into you from behind, every thrust hitting deep. Your breath catches as his grip tightens around your wrists, pulling your arms behind your back.

“You’re mine, baby,” he murmurs between thrusts, filled with that dangerous softness he always uses when he wants you to feel safe while giving in. “Only mine. Say it.”

“I—I’m yours,” you cry out, the words tumbling past your lips before you even think. Your hips instinctively roll back into him, body desperate to meet every stroke. Your own moans betray you, building with the wet slap of skin and the sound of his breath unraveling behind you.

“Wanna keep you to myself—fuck,” Jay growls, his grip flexing around your wrists as your walls tighten around him. “You’re too beautiful. Everybody wants my girl.”

You feel him shudder, throwing his head back, a moan tearing from his throat as he sinks deeper, harder, the pace growing erratic. His words come broken now, laced with raw possession.

“You’re mine… mine… mine… fuck—mine.”

Your whines rise with him, high and trembling, legs shaking beneath the weight of his rhythm. He’s hitting every spot  like he owns them—because in his mind, he does.

Jay always knows what you need before you do. He knows when to be soft, when to be rough. When to pull you close, and when to make you beg. 

He releases one of your wrists, only to slide his hand down your front, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your legs nearly give out the moment he touches you. His fingers circle it with cruel expertise, pulling out helpless gasps as your body responds.

“See how good I treat you?” he breathes against your neck, lips brushing just beneath your ear. “No one else can fuck you like this. No one else gets to.”

You moan in response, pushing your hips back to meet the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. Your ass collides with him, each impact echoing in the room. He growls low in his chest, gripping your hips, dragging you back onto him with a force that leaves you breathless.

“I’m gonna fill you with my cum,” Jay hisses. “Gonna make you pregnant, baby. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

Your moans break into sharp cries as the pleasure burns through your veins, white-hot and endless. Every stroke of his cock drives deeper, rougher, shaking what little strength you have left. Your body can't hold itself up anymore—your arms collapse beneath you, face pressed into the sheets as he continues his assault from behind.

“I love you,” Jay groans, his voice fraying into a broken moan. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you—”

Something inside you snaps. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave breaking loose after too long held back. It’s overwhelming, violent in its depth, unstoppable in its force. Your body tightens around him as pleasure detonates from your core, spreading outward in pulsing waves that steal your breath and leave you crying out his name.

Your hands claw at the sheets beneath you, your back arching as every nerve lights up, every muscle trembling beneath the pressure of his thrusts. It’s like falling and flying at the same time, the intensity of it burning behind your eyes, blinding everything else.

All you can hear is his voice—those words repeating, claiming you. I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.

You’re still trembling as he keeps going, chasing his own end, using your limp, pleasure-drunk body. “Yours,” you whisper, the word broken and breathless into the sheets. “I’m yours, Jay…”

He lets out a sound that’s almost a sob, thrusting harder, deeper, messier now. And you can feel it coming—his climax, the one he’s been holding off for you, the one he’s about to give with everything he has.

Even with your limbs trembling, your body still oversensitized and wrecked from your own release, you shift your hips to meet him, chasing his rhythm. Moaning, shakily, as the pleasure blooms again when you feel him release inside you.

A broken curse falls from his lips, and then he’s spilling into you, his entire body seizing with it.

Every pulse inside you is another claim, another mark, another reminder that you belong to him.

“I love you,” he whispers. His breath is hot against your skin, each word punctuated with a kiss pressed to the curve of your neck.

He stays inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back, skin slick with sweat and warmth. You feel the full weight of him, one of his hands slides up, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to press a kiss to your nape. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

And when he finally presses his lips to yours, it’s a ghost of a touch. A silent apology.

He whisper, again, I love you, buried in your hair now. Oh, how it feels so good.

To be wanted like this. To be needed this much. To be held so tightly that you forget what it was like to ever stand on your own.

Because in Jay’s arms, even when everything else fades, even when you’re lost in the dark—It always feels like home.

[dinogoofymutated]

First born Headcannons! Multi/Fem!Afab! Reader - Angel, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Gambit OKAY FUCK I don't know what came over me it just happened okay??? This whole thing started thinkin about colossus and a lil baby and then I was thinking about Warren taking the nightshift with his own baby and I spiraled from there. Warren's is like twice as long as everyone elses my bad yall. If there are any typos don't make fun of me ill fix them tomorrow I'm so tired lol TWs: Childbirth mentioned (Not described tho), Babies, wholesome shit. I know that some of these characters have had kids in the comics and that these hcs may be ooc, but I do not care lol. Little bit of anxiety and panic, but everything is okay.

Warren Worthington

Warren is such a dad. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, he's not as effortlessly fatherly like Piotr is, but once he has a kid he's devoted to making sure this kid gets all the emotional, physical, and financial support they would ever need.

He had such a rocky childhood with his own dad, so he hates the idea of his child ever going through the same sort of thing.

He might be a little clueless with the actual baby things, like when to feed, how to dress, and what to feed his little one, but he does take diaper duty as his sole purpose in life. He does adjust for the things he lacks though, and gradually adjusts to be better at them!

He's strangely good with babies, even before he had his own! There's just something about him that makes them stop crying. He's also an expert at nap times.

    It’s an early weekday afternoon. The sun is shining through the blinds in warm golden rays, the sink clean and the dishwasher running. There’s a click once the message on the answering machine stops playing, and you have an uncertain frown on your face as you take it all in.

    The house is silent, brightly decorated with pictures of your close friends lining the walls of the hallway. The sounds of your husband quietly shushing your infant son gradually become easier to hear when you reach the cracked door of the nursery, pushing it open as quietly as you can.

    Warren’s back is facing you, fluffy wings almost glowing where the sunrays touch his feathers. Your newborn is sleeping in his arms, napping after a lunchtime bottle. He’s bouncing the baby just slightly, and you swear you can see his smile without ever having to see his face. It’s a sweet moment you want to crystalize in your memories. You lean against the doorway, smiling just as bright as you’re sure he is.

    "Hi~" You say sweetly after a moment. You were right. Warren’s happy smile is bright and blinding when he turns to look at you.

    "Hey," He says quickly, lifting your sleeping son so that you can see him better. "Hi Mama, say hi Mama!" Warren whispers as he lifts the baby’s pudgy little hand to wave at you. You can’t help but giggle, walking forward to kiss both of them on their cheeks- your little one not stirring from his nap. You take a breath afterward, leaning against his side as you debate telling him.

    “Something wrong?” Warren asks, one of his wings stretching out to wrap around your side and pull you closer to him. Normally you giggle, but today you bite your lip, unsure.

    "Your dad called." Your words are soft when you say it, and Warren immediately laughs in a way that sounds more like a scoff.

    “His secretary, you mean.” Warren attempts to correct, and his joking tone makes you frown a little, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to be soothing.

    “No, not her, honey.” Warren stays silent after you say it, his brow furrowing as his face turns into a reflection of confusion and sadness. You can see the conflict as he turns the words over in his head, cooing and shushing your son back to sleep when he starts to stir a little, feeling the atmosphere shift. 

    “...what did he want?” He asks, voice low and quiet.

    “He left a message on the answering machine if you want to listen to it.” You tell him. “He, well… He wants to meet his grandson.” Warren scoffs at that, shaking his head as he starts to pace the room a little. You stand there, grounded as you watch him process the sudden contact.

    “He really said that? After all he’s put me through, he wants to meet our son… What a joke.” You grimace when Warren starts to laugh. He finally stops pacing to gently lay your son back in his crib. He leans against the side with one hand as the other rubs his eyes before it slides up to run through his hair.

    “Do you want him to?” You ask after a moment, stepping over to his side. He leans into your touch when you reach out to hold his cheek.

    “I-” Warren stops himself, taking a deep breath as he takes your hand in his own. “What do you want to do?” He asks instead. You shake your head at him, taking hold of his hand in both of yours, tracing the wedding band on his finger.

    “He’s your dad, love. It’s your choice.” You say softly. Warren is still frowning, and he lets out a long breath, deflating a little bit. He turns around to face you, pressing a kiss to your temple and holding you there for a long moment. You wish you had even a fraction of Jean’s or the Professor’s power, if only you could see what was going on in that head of his. He pulls you into a side hug, and the two of you spend a long while looking at your infant in the crib. The perfect mixture of the both of you. Certain to be a mutant in his own right. You can tell Warren spends every second thinking about it.

    When he steps away from you, He’s silent.

    “Warren?” You call out for him as he leaves the room. You’re about to follow when you hear the distinct sound of your son about to wake up, the little whine catching your attention as you coo him back to sleep instead. The door to the nursery is open, and just faintly down the hall, you hear the sound of the landline starting to ring.

    “Hey, Dad, it’s Warren. Is Saturday okay?”

Piotr Rasputin

GOD this man is so good with kids. I mean, have you seen those comic panels with him and his sister??

This man was made, built, forged to be a dad. He's protective but encouraging, and although he may be blunt, he knows when his kiddo needs some comfort.

He takes all the classes with you during the pregnancy, and he knows he'd never hurt his baby, but there's always a lil bit of worry in the back of his mind. He's a little too strong, and he hates the thought of slipping up and accidentally harming this fragile little soul the two of you brought into this world.

He gains confidence with time, and when the baby arrives he's always carrying them securely on one thick arm, belly down as they sleep soundly against him.

    His baby is so small when they hand her to him in the hospital. She's tiny. Smaller than the width of his arm. He looks like a giant as he holds her, sat next to your bedside as you recover from her delivery. He's in awe as he looks at her, a tiny little life, the greatest gift you've ever given him besides your hand in marriage. 

    You and others had always joked that his baby would be huge, big-headed, 99th percentile, and he never minded it. It was no secret that he was a big man, and he didn't mind what size the baby was as long as it was healthy, and looking at the little bundle of joy in his arms, he decides he wouldn't have it any other way.

    It's almost comical, how small she is. Hell, even you might have doubted the paternity of the baby girl if it hadn't been for her head of pitch-black hair, and pretty blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of himself.

    “She has your eyes.” You say once her cries quiet down, and she begins to fall asleep in her father's arms.

    “No.” Piotr hums, gingerly touching his daughter's face. “They look much more like Illyana's.” You hadn't thought about that before, but now that he mentions it, the resemblance is undeniable. You giggle at that, Scooting closer so that you can lean on his shoulder.

    “The nurse said that she's waiting outside, when you're ready. I'm sure she's beyond excited to meet her niece.” You mumble. Piotr has placed a finger in the palm of your baby's hand, both of you smiling when the little fingers do their best to try and close around his fingertip. Piotr cannot wait to see the face of his sister when she sees your baby, but he'll be the first to admit, he'd like it if this moment could just last a little while longer.

Kurt wagner

Kurt is such a good dad oh my god.

He's always talking about you and the kids, bragging about literally everything you do ever. He's the kind of dad that has endless photos of his kiddos in his wallet, car, locker, everywhere.

And he's so devoted, too. He'll do anything you ask him to do during the newborn stage (and after) and is beyond supportive. His goals are happy Spouse, Happy kids, Happy life.

He's also very sentimental :) he thanks god every day for you and the blessing that is your baby.

    Kurt’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up this morning, and despite the normal amount of anxiety you normally feel when that happens, you feel peaceful. You’re smiling at the empty mattress, rolling over to his side to push your face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. Used to, you would be worried. You would wonder where he was, or if he was safe. If he had gone off on some x-men mission without telling you (which he never did). But today, you know exactly where he is. You’re smiling now as you think about it, pressing a kiss to his pillow before standing up.

    There’s a soft humming in the house, quiet and soothing. It’s not hard to figure out where it’s coming from, the path to the spare room having become second nature to you- although, it really wasn’t much of a spare room anymore. You try not to be too loud when you enter the room through the cracked door.

   Kurt is humming sweetly, your son laid out on the changing table as Kurt finishes worming his pudgy little legs through a new onesie. The baby whines a little, squirming around as Kurt attempts to change his clothes. 

    “Patience, Mein kleiner Schatz. This won’t take long.” Kurt says sweetly. Your son isn’t really having this whole changing business, and it makes Kurt chuckle. His tail is wrapped around a bottle of milk, and he sets it to the side right before he snakes his tail over the crib. He brushes the spaded end lovingly over your baby’s cheek as a distraction, and the infant coos as he finishes getting his arms through the sleeves. His tail takes over from there, buttoning the onesie's clasps as he turns to grab the bottle of milk instead- stopping for a split second when he sees you in the doorway. Kurt smiles.

    “How are my boys?” You ask, voice a little rough from sleep.

    “Gut! And lively, it seems.” He tells you. He passes the bottle off to his tail again when you walk over, taking you into his arms as he shakes the formula up a little more. Kurt kisses you sweetly on the lips, pressing his forehead against your own when you separate. 

    “Guten Morgen, Schatz. How are you feeling?” You swear you fall in love with him all over again each day when he greets you like that. You shrug your shoulders in response, smile dropping just a little bit.

    “I’m okay. Still tired, and definitely still bloated, but I’m okay.” You admit. Kurt frowns a little, brushing some hair from your face.

    “Did you see the medicine I left for you on the nightstand?” Kurt asks, and you immediately make a bit of a silly face, remembering that you didn’t exactly get up on your own side of the bed today. Kurt knows what that looks means and begins to laugh, just as your son begins to whimper and whine to be held and fed. You try to go pick him up, but Kurt stops you as he picks your baby up instead, bottle at the ready.

   “Go take your meds, I’ve got him, Liebchen.”

Remy LeBeau

Remy is a little nervous to be a dad.

Not in a flight way!! He's just a little worried that he'll be a bad influence on the kiddo. and well, I mean sure. If you're worried about the kiddo being a little rager and being into a few to many wild hobbies I guess (usually comes with the cajun territory)- but overall, Gambit is such a sweetheart, and if anything his kiddos would be so respectful and loving towards their parents.

Remy's very protective over your baby. The protectiveness is at it's height around 0-3yrs of age, but it never, ever goes away completely.

He might talk some smack about how a little bit of dirt/germs never hurt anyone, but He's actually the kind of dad that makes everyone put germex on before even thinking about holding the baby.

He's on top of feedings, and never fears a blowout when it comes to changing diapers (no matter how much he might gag). He might not have the diaper back stocked and loaded 24/7, but he's doing the best he can.

    When you wake up, It’s about 3am. Your eyes blink oper wearily, and the light from the alarm clock is practically burning into your eyes. You want nothing more to curl up and go back to sleep, and you almost do, until the time actually registers.

    3am. Its 3am, and you went to bed at 10pm. This is the first time you’ve woken up since then. Your veins feel like ice when you realize that you haven't heard the baby cry once. You rip the cover off of you, breaking out in a panicked run across the hall to check on your newborn. You don’t even realize that Remy isn’t even in bed until you slam the door open and see him standing there, your daughter in his arms as he rocks her to sleep in the rocking chair You breathe a sigh of relief as he looks at you with a tired smile, but your anxiety still remains.

    “Remy? Is she okay?” You whisper, practically leaping over to his side to take the little one out of his arms.

    “She’s Okay, Cher.” Remy replies softly. He stands from the chair, wrapping his hands around your back, the infant snug in between your bodies. You sigh again, taking a moment to look at your daughter carefully, eyeing her chest as it rises and falls, and straining your ears to hear her breathing. Remy gives you a second to get situated, yawning just a bit as he sways the three of you as you stand there. You relax as he holds you both, resting your head against his shoulder.

    “Why don’ you go back to bed.” Remy says after a long minute. “That was the longest I’ve seen you sleep in a while.” You frown. He’s not wrong. Your newborn has been a bit colicky lately, crying for nights on end since you brought her home with very few things to keep her comfortable. She has started to grow out of it, but the effects still remained. She cries a lot at nighttime, and it makes you wonder if that’s why you had slept so long, because of Remy staying up to keep her quiet.

    “And leave you here? Remy, how long have you been awake?” You ask, looking up at his face. He shrugs, smiling still as the three of you sway.

    “I’m fine. I can stay up all night if I need to, as long as you get to catch up on some sleep.” If it were any other circumstance, you might have swooned at the words. As sweet is he is, you can’t let him do that! He begins to step away to place your daughter in her crib, and you hold yourself back from trying to take her from him and commanding him to just go to bed.

    “Remy-”

    “Ah ah ah, Cher, don’t wake ma petit, now.” Remy cuts you off with a whisper, turning around to place a finger against his lips in a shushing motion. He almost makes you giggle, but instead, you simply shake your head at him. He pulls you into a loving kiss when he’s close enough, running his hand through your hair. You know he’s waiting for you to pull back, to retreat into the bedroom to sleep like he asked you to, but you’re still hesitant. He knows your stubbornness firsthand and chuckles when he pulls back a little.

    “Do I need to tuck you in, too?”

[mirathescientist]

Hii I was wondering if you could do an collage au armin arlert oneshot, imagine or Drabble (totally up to you) where armin is a very popular soccer player at the college and since he’s so popular that causes him not have as much time for his gf so she catches an attitude and ignores him and he fixes it ifykyk. I was thinking more of like a dominant or switch armin for this yk?

pairings: soccer!player Armin x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, a lil angsty, orgasm denial, car sex

a/n: i love this request, armin is just so ૮꒰ྀི˶˃ ⌓ ˂˶꒱ྀིა

Ms. Attitude

“I’m sorry, baby. I promise I’ll make it up later. I love you, bye” The monotone beep of the phone soon followed his hurried voice informing you he ended the call before you could even breathe.

“Yep, I love you too” You mumbled. Glossy eyes scanning the hair and makeup you spent hours on.

This was the second time Armin failed to show up for your date.

Soccer season was picking up and with Armin being the captain you understood you'd no longer be able to spend as much time due to practice, but the frequent outings with his team members were becoming infuriating.

Was it that hard for him to plan around your date nights?

With a deep breath, you soaked a cotton pad in makeup remover. Too exhausted to even take pictures before the excess liquid on the pad mixed with your stray tears. It was rare for you to cry over a guy, even rarer to cry over Armin, but the disappointment was turning into frustration that was too overbearing to contain.

What made things worse is that you felt it wasn't fair to Armin you were having these feelings.

You knew what you were entering into when you said yes to being his girlfriend. He told you his goals from the start; become captain, graduate with a 4.0, play professionally, and ultimately make it to the World Cup.

Of course, you knew achieving all he wanted would take time, and you wholeheartedly supported him.

To maintain a healthy relationship you two had a system. Once a week, you would set aside time for a date. It didn't need to be elaborate or fancy; the simple goal was for you to spend time alone. Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Something Armin didn’t take into account with the new season was the influx of freshmen on the team. This meant lots of bonding time with the team and less time with you.

°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was a week before you saw Armin. Granted it wasn't on purpose and you just happened to catch a glimpse of him from across the crowded room, but you saw him nonetheless.

The events on how you approached him are a little cloudy, your actions encouraged by the shots you took and your anger. The only true remembrance was Sasha’s attempt to make you stay and the snickers from certain teammates who could predict what was about to happen.

“What the actual fuck, Armin.” You huffed

“Baby? What’s wrong?” His smile disappearing at the pout settled onto your face

You were baffled, was he actually serious?

“What’s wrong is that I haven't seen you in three weeks all because of your little bonding outings. Which this does not seem like bonding” A mixture of frustration and hurt fueling your emotions as you motioned to the party

“I know how this looks, baby but I swear we just got caught up after practice, sit with us I promise to make it up to you- Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Nothing pissed Armin off more than when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Yes! You've said the same thing every week Armin, you're like a fucking broken record and it's actually pissing me off”

“I'm pissing you off?” The indifferent tone of his voice and minuscule smirk on his face should have told you to stop and think but you were just too upset to think.

“Isn't that what I just said” Your iris slightly disappearing as you rolled your eyes once again.

He’d been waiting for it.

Many people knew Armin to be the passionate sweetheart he was. It was rare to see him upset. That emotion reserved for whenever his team got a foul and occasionally whenever you gave him attitude.

Before you could even register what he was doing he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the party

That little eye roll ended up with you in the backseat of his car, legs on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

“Minniee, pleaseee” You whined, tears threatening to spill from your eyes at the pleasure building in your lower stomach

“You wanted my attention right? So stop fucking complaining and hold it like I said” His hips snapping forward as he buried himself deep inside you with every thrust.

You were certain stars were blurring your vision. He was just stretching you out so well, the girth and the angle he was at leaving no spot along your walls untouched with how deep he was.

Just looking and hearing the whines that slipped passed your lips made him want to fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you.

Just looking at you had him on the brink of a second orgasm.

You just looked so pretty to him. Bouncing breasts no longer confined by the tight shirt you wore, hardened nipples glossy from his previous sucking. Don't even get him started with your teary eyes and glossy lips.

What really got him though was the way your puffy cunt surrounded him. Folds so warm and wet with your slick and his cum that your walls failed to contain.

Armin however didn’t reward bad behavior, especially yours. Maybe he’d let you cum if you whined enough, but who knows. For now, he’d continue to use you for his own pleasure as he pounded into you.

“What's wrong princess? Isn't this what you wanted? Caught an attitude just to get fucked like a slut” He hissed, blonde strands sticking to his forehead as he increased his pace.

“I’m sorry, Minnie, please. I just missed you” You spoke through your broken moans and cries

Leaning down he encaptured your lips, his pace slowing as the guilt seeped into him, oh how he wanted nothing but to go back and spend that time with you.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make time for us, I mean it this time” His voice coming out in a whisper as he kissed along your neck

“Y-yeah? “ Speech broken by the newfound pleasure as he applied pressure to your clit

“Mhm, as long as you stop with that fucking attitude” Within that second the soft and caring Armin was gone and now replaced with the Armin whose only goal was to make you feel pleasure

You were so close, every rock of his hips hitting your spot so perfectly you were seeing stars and begging to cum but he kept denying you over and over. His responses consisting of “Be my good girl and hold it” or “You want it so badly don’t you?” a condescending pout resting on his pink lips every time

It was only when he grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs up against your chest that he allowed you to cum, pace becoming sloppy as he watched you cream around him, basking in the way every contraction of your cunt added to the milky ring around his base.

The feeling of you clenching around him, the sight of your closed eyes and slightly agape mouth as you came, it was too much for him to handle as spurts of his milky cum forced its way into your stuffed cunt.

“That's my girl” He mumbled. Smirking at the cum spilling from your hole the moment he pulled out

It was only when you felt his hands spreading your legs apart and his tongue plunging into you that you opened your eyes.

“Armin” You shrieked

“Mmm, relax, baby. I've got three weeks' worth of orgasms to get from you.”

[artstennisracket]

request: thinking really hard about coach!dilf!patrick and how he'd spank bratty!tennisplayer!reader with his racket whenever she mouths off (and then fuck her with the handle. obviously)

tennis coach!Patrick x fem!reader, part 2

cw: nsfw (18+), spanking, object insertion, d/s undertones

You’ve gone through 15 tennis coaches in the past 5 years because you were “uncoachable”. But your parents knew the real reason why, your attitude.

You would question, fight back, and argue about every single little thing anyone tried to teach you. It’s exhausting for them but also for you. You never thought any of those coaches were good enough. They were too nice or too soft or too inexperienced or just too wrong.

No one really meshed with you or your playing style. You had non negotiables. One of those things being your serve. It was unique. You would bend down at an almost uncomfortable angle, bounce the ball twice, before you shoot up tossing the ball the air and hitting it.

It was weird and you didn’t know why you did it that way but you did and it worked. But every coach you ever had wanted you to fix it. Except for Patrick.

He coached you sure but never once mentioned your serve. Maybe it’s because his serve was weird too.

Your parents were surprised you kept this coach for so long, but Patrick just treated you like a real player. The part that really surprised your parents was that you never argued with him or mouthed off.

He was also just really hot. He would come over 5 days a week to your family home, and you guys would practice at your home tennis court.

He was older than you, by almost 12 years. He started coaching you when you were 18 and now you’re 20. You tried to make your passes and did your occasional flirting. Wore extra short skirts and made sure to bend over slowly when you had to pick up a tennis ball.

You were nothing if not persistent so this practice was no different.

You pulled out all the stops. You wore a short white tennis skirt that stopped just below curve of your ass and a tight pink polo top with the top buttons unbuttoned. You didn’t wear a bra so the outside breeze made your nipples perk up under your shirt. And whether or not you were wearing panties was questionable.

Patrick never acknowledged what you were wearing. He just kept his sunglasses on and a neutral face when he said, “Ready to get to work?”

Practice went on as usual until you decided to be difficult on purpose. Patrick had you doing drills serving to hit certain cones spread out on the court. So you just kept missing on purpose.

“Are you good? Feeling okay?” He asks from where he’s stood on the other side of net.

Okay time to turn up the brattiness. You scoff putting your hand on your hip, “What? I can’t miss a couple shots?”

He raises his eyebrows clearly taken aback, “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“I just don’t understand why you keep asking me questions, you don’t get paid to question me you get paid to coach me.”

“Well I don’t like your fucking attitude right now so i’m not coaching shit.” He says dropping his racket into the bin that holds all the tennis balls. He starts to walk off the court, taking his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Fuck. You need to get him to come back here and take out his anger on you, not cool off with a cigarette.

You yell in his direction, “Yeah? Well you’re so old you can’t even coach for shit anyway!”

He stops in his tracks. He puts his unlit cigarette back in the pack, putting the pack back in his pocket. He turns back in your direction and walks straight to you.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you into the sports shed where your family kept all their sports gear.

He stops dropping your wrist. He pushes his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head. He turns around to face you, standing so close to you, your noses are almost touching. He says just above a whisper, “You think you can fucking talk to me like that? What the fuck do you think this is?”

This is the closest, physically, you guys have ever been. So naturally, you’re a little nervous but happy that your plan is maybe working? You stutter, “I-I um I didn’t think anything.”

He does a once over, looking you up and down. Then he continues, “You think I don’t know what this is? Acting like a brat to get my attention? To get me to fuck you?”

Oh. He saw right through you and somehow that just adds to the butterflies in your stomach.

“That’s not— I never, I didn’t—“

He cuts you off, “Don’t lie to me.”

You shake your head continuing your lie, “no I never— I swear I didn’t—“

Before you can register what’s happening, he sits down in the bench and puts you over his lap. Oh.

He lifts up your skirt and curses under his breath. You weren’t wearing panties. You could feel the rush cool air against your now exposed skin. He rubs his hand over your ass for a second before he picks up a nearby racket.

“You expect me to believe you weren’t acting up to get my attention when your wearing the shortest skirt you own, no bra so everyone can see your hard nipples through your shirt, and your not even wearing panties?” He asks, slowly dragging the tennis racket over your ass.

You nod biting your lip.

Smack.

“Ah—“ You let out a half gasp half yelp when the first smack of the tennis racket lands on your ass.

“Well if you’re gonna keep behaving like a lying brat, then I’m going to have to punish you like one,” He says before landing another spank on your ass.

Smack.

You moan this time as the racket collides with your ass.

“Parading around the court like a desperate slut. surprised you didn’t just bend over for me right on the court. That’s what you really wanted right?”

Smack.

You nod your head letting out another moan.

Smack.

“I asked you a question that means your supposed to answer me.” He says sternly before raising the racket again.

Smack.

“Yes fuck, that’s what I wanted. Wanted you to fuck me on the court, please.”

You anticipate that another smack is going to land on your ass but instead you feel two fingers sliding up your folds and pressing into your entrance.

“Shit, Patrick,” You whine as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your tight hole.

“You’re already so wet. you really are desperate for me, aren’t you? How long have you wanted me to fuck you?” He asks while he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing against the spongy area.

You groan. It feels really fucking good, it’s hard to focus, “Ah- two years, when you became my coach.”

Now Patrick groans. He adds one more finger inside you, alongside the two that were already in there. “Fuck. Dressing like a slut for two years trying to get me to fuck you. I fucking knew it. Jesus. Made me feel like such a creep watching you. Had to start wearing sunglasses to practice so you couldn’t tell I was staring at you.”

You smirk at that, you knew your plan had to have been working all these years. From your place laid across his lap, you can feel him start to grow hard.

“Well I’m still not gonna fuck you, brats don’t get rewarded.”

You whine at that, “That’s not fair you just said you wanted to fuck me so fuck me please, please just fuck me.”

He bites his lip before he gets an idea. He pulls his fingers out of your hole and you whine at the loss. He grabs the same racket from before.

“Wait what’re you doing—“

He uses one hand to spread your folds, exposing your hole, while using the other hand to line up the handle of the racket. He starts pushing in it slowly, watching closely how your hole grips around the racket.

He groans, “Fuck baby, taking it so well.” He pumps the racket slowly, pulling it so the handle is almost all the way out before pushing it back in as deep as it can go.

You never felt this full before but every time he presses the racket in deep it feels so good. Eventually he starts pumping the racket a little faster. You start moaning uncontrollably, rocking your hips back against the racket.

“Your tight hole is so fucking greedy baby, jesus. Fucking yourself back on it like you can’t get enough.” He moves one hand to squeeze your chest, circling your nipple with his finger.

You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you. The volume of your moans increasing until you reach your release, “‘m gonna cum, oh fuck Patrick.”

He lets you ride out your orgasm before he pulls the wet racket handle out of you. It’s covered in your juices.

You think it’s all over until you hear him say, “Get on your knees.”

So you do. Still a little wobbly from laying down for so long but you get on your knees between his legs. You can see the tent in his shorts now. You’re hoping you’ll finally get to see his see his cock, feel the weight of it on your tongue. You just know it’s huge.

So you open your mouth, sticking our tongue to show that you’re ready to suck him off.

He smirks before he presses the tennis racket handle down your throat, “Good girls clean up their mess.”

You choke a little but try to relax your throat, sucking the handle to clean it off. Once he’s satisfied he pulls the racket out of your mouth, placing it beside him on the bench.

He stands up and you watch as he tucks his boner into the waistband of his shorts. He bends down to whisper into your ear, “Maybe next time if you’re a good girl for the whole week, then I’ll fuck you.”

He stands up heading to the exit the sports shed. He moves his sunglasses back down to rest on his nose bridge. Before he leaves he calls out, “See you tomorrow for 8am practice.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

You Make Loving Fun

Summary: You buy tickets to Fleetwood Mac for Javi's birthday. After a few drinks, Javi ends up having a little more fun than he intended.

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (wrap before you tap) oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, creampie, aftercare, implied? breeding kink (I think it's illegal for me to write if this isn't in the warnings somewhere) drinking alcohol, Javi gets absolutely HAMMERED, talks of having more kids and stopping birth control, Drunk Javi wants to tell anyone and everyone how much he loves his wife, Drunk Javi being sweet and happy and so in love because that's what he deserves

A/N: If you're anything like me, you've spent WAY too long looking at all of these photos of sweet Pedro at a concert, and of course, my brain automatically went "THAT'S JAVI GETTING WASTED AND HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE" and now, here we are 🤷🏼‍♀️ I feel like Javi would be a very happy/affectionate drunk post-Colombia bc he is so happy just to be having fun and enjoying his life and that makes me ✨emotional✨ Also, thanks @itsokbbygrl for ruining my life by realizing the ring Pedro is wearing in this picture is on his RING FINGER?!?! 😩

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“I feel to fucking old to be doing this.”

“To do what? Go to a concert? I hate to break it to you, Jav, but there are, in fact, no age limits at concerts. What, are you worried security is gonna try to kick you out for being too old?” You giggled, looking over at Javi next to you in the bathroom, finishing fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt. 

“I know, I just haven’t been to a concert in so damn long. Definitely not since we’ve had the girls.” Javi sighed, running his hand through the dark curls of his hair once more before turning to face you, still finishing up the last of your makeup in the mirror. 

Although you had intended for your Fleetwood Mac tickets to be a surprise for Javi’s birthday, trying to coordinate around your schedules and 3 little girls had made spontaneous date nights much more challenging than they used to be when you first met. But, with Chucho needing no incentive to babysit his granddaughters, you and Javi were excited to have a night out just the two of you, getting to enjoy your favorite band together, singing and dancing the night away to celebrate another year of Javi getting older. 

“Well then lucky for you, you’ll be the hottest dad at the concert.” You smirked, sassily tilting your head towards him to prove your point, your reaction just enough to snap him out of his self doubt, Javi joining in on the laughter as he stood behind you, grabbing your waist and placing a soft kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder next to the strap of your sundress. 

“Good thing I’ve got a fucking hot MILF of a wife to go with me then, huh?” Javi grinned, the kiss he had left on your shoulder now slowly starting to creep up your neck and collarbone as his hand reached down to grab a handful of your ass, making you squeal in surprise. “I know you picked this dress out on purpose because you know it drives me fucking crazy. God, you look good.” 

“Javi! You better stop or we’re gonna be late to dinner before the show!” You scolded, giving him a playful jab to his stomach, only making him tighten the grip on your ass even firmer with his other hand coming to join his first. 

“Hermosa,” He cooed, gently turning you around to take the mascara you had in your hand and set it on the counter before cradling your jaw in his palm, forcing your gaze up at him, “I know you. And you and I both know damn well you at least put enough a little buffer time into our plans for us to have sex before we left. Am I wrong?” 

Well, he caught you there, because he most certainly was not. 

“Maybe…” You replied sheepishly, overdramatically rolling your eyes at his statement, only making his boyish grin spread wider between his cheeks, “Okay, but seriously though, we do have to be quick, because I don’t want to- Ah! Javi!” 

You couldn’t help but let out a little shriek of surprise as Javi suddenly lifted you up, setting you down on the bathroom counter and caging your body under his, his arms planted on either side of your hips as his mouth crashed into yours, tongues and teeth dancing in a hungry and desperate clash. 

“I promise I won’t take too long. But I can’t help myself when you look this good, mi amor. Eres tan hermosa (You’re so beautiful). You’re gonna kill me in that dress, Momma.” Javi hummed, his hands now gripping the meat of your thighs and sliding down your legs to bunch up the skirt of your dress, hiking it up as he sank down to his knees in front of the bathroom counter. 

You could already feel the damp patch that had begun to grow in your underwear as Javi hooked his fingers around the elastic of its waistband, tugging the fabric down your legs and letting it fall to the bathroom floor, revealing your pussy, already wet and aching for him. 

Javi settled himself between your legs, draping them over his shoulders as his fingers slid through your folds, collecting your juices before beginning to circle at your clit with the pads of his fingers, peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs as you whimpered in delight. 

“J-Javi, please, baby.” You moaned, fingers tightening around the edge of the countertop as his thumb replaced his fingers on your clit, his middle and ring finger dipping inside your already weeping core, curling just slightly as he began to pump them in and out of you. 

It wasn’t long before his thumb was replaced by his mouth, the flat of his tongue licking a broad strip across your cunt, the new sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. No matter how many times Javi had gone down on you, it never failed to surprise you how goddamn good he was at it, memorizing every twitch and gasp that made you fall apart in the best way possible, and tonight was no exception. 

His slow, long strokes began to quicken, circling his tongue around your clit with the perfect amount of pressure as his fingers worked in tandem, curving in just the right place to press against your g-spot and begin to build the arousal swirling in your core. 

As much as you (and Javi, for that matter), would have loved to have taken your time and let him eat you out on the bathroom counter for hours, the both of you knew you were on a time crunch, but not enough of a crunch to stop Javi from making you cum at least once before he fucked you. 

The pressure of his tongue on your sensitive nub became more and more, before latching his lips to suck at your clit, your cunt clenching in anticipation around his fingers as you writhed beneath his touch, moaning his name as you felt your orgasm begin to build. 

You couldn’t help but let your hand shoot down to his head, your fingers burying themselves in his thick, brown locks, with absolutely no regard for the time he had just spent fixing his hair in the mirror just a few minutes ago.  

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please, I’m so close.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face. 

You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt before pulling away to respond. “Give it to me, pretty girl. Wanna taste you all over me when you soak my face.”

Before you could reply, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt, each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.

Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 

”That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Love this pussy so fucking much.” He groaned, reaching down to frantically undo his belt buckle, his fingers working rapidly to undo the metal clasp before pushing his pants and boxers down his legs, letting them pool in a pile around his ankles. 

Still coming down from your high, your breath hitched as the tip of Javi’s cock ran through your folds, coating his length in your arousal before slipping inside you. You couldn’t help but gasp even harder at the new sensation of his fullness inside you, cockhead already kissing your cervix as his hips flushed with yours. 

Javi’s hands began to wander up your legs, pushing your dress up your thighs until he got to your hips, digging his fingertips in the soft fabric as he thrust in and out of you, mouths melding together as one. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Hermosa. So fucking wet for me, taking me so well.” Javi moaned, nipping at your ear as his pace became faster, fucking into you in the spot he knew made you lose all control, silently smirking at the pathetic whimpers that were escaping your lips. 

Javi buried his face in the crook of your neck as your legs began to instinctively lock around the small of his back, bringing him closer to you with each thrust. You could already feel that all too familiar tingle building at the base of your spine once again, wanting to feel every inch of him you could deeper and deeper inside you before you came. 

With the way the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, you knew you didn’t have much longer until your orgasm was about to crash though you, finding yourself grasping fistfuls of Javi’s shirt for dear life as you mumbled incoherently. 

”O-oh shit, Javi. Fuck, F-fuck, don’t stop baby. Please, don’t stop.” 

You could practically hear the hum of satisfaction deep in Javi’s chest feeling your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, his firm grasp of his hands on your hips holding you in place on the counter as he pounded into you. 

”C’mon Osita. Cum all over me. Give it to me and I swear I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you all night.” 

“Yes, fuckfuckfuck, please, Javi.” 

“Is that what you want? You gotta be a good girl and cum for me first, baby.” 

That was all it took for you to break before you could feel a wave of pleasure rushing through your body, euphoria running through your veins as you came, crying out Javi’s name like a prayer as he started to chase his own high. His thrusts became frantic and sloppy, his brows furrowing in focus to hold out just a little longer until your body melted into his in your blissed out state. 

“That’s it, hermosa. I love you so much. I- oh shit- I’m close, too. F-fuck, I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy so full of me that it- oh fuckkkkkkkk.” With a few more pumps, a moan escaped from Javi’s parted lips as he came, spilling himself deep inside your walls. The warm mix of his spend and your arousal dripped out of you as his cock softened, whimpering at the loss as he pulled out, but catching your muffled moans in his mouth as his lips met yours, cradling your face in his palm. 

Through your heavy breaths from heaving chests, you and Javi both couldn’t help but smile and laugh to yourselves as your foreheads rested against each other, quietly whispering “I love you” to each other in sync, your bodies slumped together in a blissed out heap on the bathroom counter. 

”Fuck, you’re so hot. I’ll never get over it.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip after giving you another quick kiss, rummaging through your bathroom cabinets to pull out a washcloth to clean you up with.

”Takes one to know one, Peña.” You giggled, letting out a content sigh as you let your head fall back, closing your eyes for a moment before looking over your shoulder to see Javi, and behind Javi, the clock that you both had very much not been paying attention to in the midst of your antics.

”Oh fuck…” 

“Already did that, mi amor,” Javi teased, running the washcloth under the warm water of the sink, “What’s wrong?”

Without saying a word, you gestured to the clock hanging on the bathroom wall with a defeated shrug, Javi turning around with a quiet laugh to himself, shrugging his shoulders right along with you. 

“You’d think after how long we’ve been together we’d start giving ourselves even more time than we think to leave for things, huh?” 

“You would think, huh?” You giggled, accepting defeat that the two of you would most definitely not be making it to your dinner reservations that you had planned before the concert. “Sorry, Jav.”

 “What do you have to be sorry about, cariño? Fuck, I get to have amazing sex with my beautiful wife before we go see our favorite band, what a horrible birthday night so far.” Javi teased, giving you a reassuring nudge that you had nothing to apologize for. “I think the real question is…” 

”Is what, Mr. Sarcasm?” 

“What size fries do you want with your McDonald’s Coke and McNuggets for dinner?” 

“How did you know I was gonna say we should get McDonald’s for dinner?!” 

“Because Osita, I swear I know you better than I know myself.” 

After some quick touch ups and a call to Chucho to say goodnight to your daughters before you left, you and Javi were on the road, happily enjoying your McDonald’s and taking turns picking your favorite Fleetwood Mac songs to jam out to, spending your ride debating what songs they’d play, reminiscing about the songs you loved, and singing at the top of your lungs, to the point you were positive you would have no voice tomorrow. 

While you hadn’t been able to keep the concert itself a secret, the one thing you had been able to hide from your husband was the fact that you had managed to get not just good, but great seats for the show. If Javi had known how much you’d spent for him on his birthday, he would have insisted on finding cheaper tickets, but if there was anyone who was deserving of getting to see his favorite band from an incredible view, it was him. 

From the moment the two of you had entered the venue, you had your tickets peeled to your chest to keep them from Javi, reassuring him that you knew where you were going, much to his dismay and insisting that working together would help you find your seats quicker. 

After a few minutes of wandering and secretly maneuvering to the right section of the stadium, you had finally found where you belonged, excitedly pulling Javi along behind you towards your seats.

“Baby, not that I don’t trust your navigation skills, but I feel like we’re down way too far in the stands. ” Javi questioned, his hand in yours as you dragged him through the crowd, looking back and forth between your ticket stub and the stadium rows to find your spots. 

“Not to burst your bubble, Jav, but my navigation skills are as on point as they ever have been.” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest before handing him over your tickets, his face stunned and in shock as he read the small stubs of card stock, realizing you had absolutely led the both of you to the right place. 

”Happy early birthday, Javi. I know the concert itself wasn’t a surprise, but I hope that these seats are still a good one.” 

“Osita… Baby, you can’t be serious…” Javi’s jaw dropped, eyes going wide in shock, convinced you had to be joking or playing some sort of prank on him. 

“Serious as a heart attack, Jav.” 

Javi stood there speechless, tears welling in his eyes with an awestruck grin on his face, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug before peppering your face with kisses, making you giggle and squeal in delight. 

“God, I love you so much. Thank you, Hermosa. This is… fuck, this is absolutely incredible. Thank you. I don’t- this is way more than I deserve. Thank you so much.” 

Your heart swelled at the boyish grin spread across Javi’s face as he looked out at the view in front of him, knowing that if you could give your husband the world in his pocket, you would in a heartbeat, but to see his excitement over some seats at a concert would do just fine. 

“You’re so welcome, baby. You do deserve it. You deserve it more than anyone I know. You are the most amazing, wonderful husband and dad. If I could get you up there on stage with Stevie Nicks, I would, because that’s what you deserve.” 

“I think the last thing anyone needs is to hear me even attempt to sing.” 

“The girls love it when you sing to them.” 

“That’s because they don’t know any better. Give it a few more years and I’m sure they’ll be begging me to stop.” 

“What they know won’t hurt ‘em,” you laughed, giving Javi a playful shrug, “Also, the other part of this gift is that I am driving us home from the concert, so you can have as much fun as you want.” 

“Baby, you don’t have to-” 

“I can and I will,” You sassed defiantly, cutting Javi off before he could oppose your offer, “You always drive so I can have a good time, and you deserve to have time to let loose, too. So, with that being said, I am going to go get us drinks. Drunk Javi is one of my favorite Javi’s and I don’t get to see him very often. Okay?” 

“Okay. Thanks, Hermosa. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav. Now, what do you want to drink?” 

“Surprise me.” He laughed, giving you a quick kiss and a subtle smack on your ass as you walked past him to make your way back to the concession stand. “Drunk Javi is really one of your favorites?” 

“Absolutely. Drunk Javi loves to dance. Drunk Javi also gets very sweet and a little handsy, both of which I am more than okay with.” 

A few drinks deep and the opening bands finished, Javi, or better yet, Drunk Javi, was having the absolute time of his life. For as fun and goofy Javi was at home with you and the girls, it was few and far between that the former DEA agent found himself intoxicated out in public with a case of dancing shoes and uncontrollable giggles. 

“God, I’m having so much fun. Are you having fun, Hermosa? You’re the best wife ever, you know that?” Javi grinned, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pecked a sloppy kiss onto your cheek before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Glad to know you don’t have a secret wife who you like better than me.” You teased, giving him a little nudge and giggling at his drunken state, a little surprised when all of a sudden his face turned serious, setting down his beer to cup your jaw with his palms and forcing his gaze on his. 

“Baby, you know I would never ever do that, right? I literally love you so much. You and the girls are my whole world. I think I would rather die than be with anyone else besides you. No, I know I would rather die than be with anyone else. You are literally perfect.” Javi pleaded, his concerned, big, brown puppy dog eyes making your heart melt. 

“Yes, Mr. Dramatic, I know you would never have a secret wife, but thank you for your very adamant confirmation.” You giggled, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him another kiss, washing the worry away from the concerned furrow of his brow. “You are such a goofball. I love you so much too, Jav. I promise, I’m not going anywhere either. Well, actually, that’s a lie. I do need to go to the bathroom before Fleetwood Mac comes on, but I will be right back.” 

“Okay, mi amor. I’ll be right here when you get back.” Javi nodded adamantly, knowing in his drunken state he would be taking his job of not leaving your seats very seriously until you safely returned. 

“I know you will, Javi. I’ll be quick, okay? Need anything when I’m gone? Besides another drink?” 

“How did you know I was gonna say I needed another drink?” Javi asked in complete shock, like you had just showed him the world’s most inconceivable magic trick. 

“I’d say the almost empty bottle was a good clue.” You winked, giving his arm a little squeeze before shimmying your way through the row of seats and up the stairs to find the nearest bathroom and concession stand. 

Normally, Javi wasn’t one to strike up small talk with strangers just for the fun of it, but with his lowered inhibitions, he couldn’t help but find himself turning to the group of women seated next to him to kill the time before you came back from the bathroom. 

“Have you guys seen Fleetwood Mac before?” Javi shrugged, finishing the last bit of beer at the bottom of his bottle. 

“Yeah, we’ve seen them a few times! They’re really good live!” One of the women responded, her friends nodding in agreement. 

“I’ve seen ‘em before too, but this is my wife and I’s first time seeing them together. She got me the tickets for my birthday, but she surprised me with how good these seats were. She’s amazing.” Javi beamed, subtly nodding his head to the music playing in the background between sets. 

“Awh, that’s so sweet!” One of the other women chimed in, the three women laughing to themselves at how drunk and awestruck Javi was over you. 

“It is. I hope they play Everywhere. It’s our favorite song by them. We played it at our wedding when she walked down the aisle and I bawled like a baby. She looked so beautiful. Who am I kidding? She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Like, ever.” Javi’s grin was growing wider by the second, staring off into the distance as he rambled on about you. 

“Oh my goodness, you are so cute. She’s a lucky lady.” The women smiled, incredibly entertained by everything Javi had to say. 

“No. I’m the lucky one.” Javi responded, stone cold serious as he pointed to himself, finger poking his chest. “Have you seen her? She’s so pretty. And she married me! And on top of that, we have a family, too! Can you believe it?!” 

“With how in love with her you seem to be, I 100% can. How many kids do you have?” 

“3 daughters. Lucy is 5, Elliot just turned 3, and Harper is 7 months old.” Javi counted on his fingers, holding up 3 to represent each of his girls. “I love them so much. Being a dad is like, the most coolest thing ever. And she’s such a good mom. They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Hey, Chatterbox.” You laughed, gently tapping Javi on the shoulder, trying not to startle him as he turned around, beaming from ear to ear at your presence. “Here is your drink and- oh!” 

“Osita! I missed you.” Javi swallowed the rest of your sentence in his mouth with a strong kiss, pulling away to greet you with a goofy grin, followed by a confused frown. “Wait, where did you go?” 

“Oh boy, we’re gonna have to pick some Gatorade and Tylenol up on the way home, aren’t we? I was just going to the bathroom, remember? And to get you another drink, silly goose.” You giggled, holding out his beer for him. 

“Oh shit. I should probably go to the bathroom, too. Do you think I have enough time to go? I don’t wanna miss anything with you!” Javi questioned frantically, realizing he definitely had not utilized the bathroom to the extent he probably should have. 

“You should be fine, babe. The lines were pretty short, so if you hurry I’m sure you’ll be back in plenty of time.” You reassured him. 

“Phew, okay, I can go fast, no problem. I’ll be right back, hermosa.” Carefully taking back his beer as he handed it off to you, Javi quickly scrambled through the crowd to follow the path you had just returned from, leaving you laughing to yourself and shaking your head. 

“We just wanted to let you know, your husband is absolutely adorable.” One of the women furthest away from you piped up, catching your attention. 

“Oh, um, thank you?” You replied, tilting your head in confusion. 

“That man is utterly obsessed with you. I think he had more nice things to say about you in 30 seconds to a group of strangers than any of my exes ever did combined.” 

“Girl, not to mention he is handsome. You are one lucky woman. Who knew it would take a stranger in love at a Fleetwood Mac concert to once again raise the bar for men.” 

“Wow, uh, thank you. That’s really nice of you. I’m not gonna lie, he’s pretty darn great.” You blushed, trying to keep your smile from spreading too wide at their compliments for Javi over his affection for you. 

“Of course. We won’t bother you anymore, but figured you’d like to know that your man is still head over heels for you. Enjoy the rest of the concert!” 

“Thanks, you guys too!” You smirked, your eyes darting down towards your feet to hide the red glow of your cheeks, your heart bursting with warmth from the fact that even in his drunken state, you found yourself falling harder and harder for Javi every day. 

Suddenly, the lights around the stage began to dim, the roar of the crowd overtaking the stadium, signaling Fleetwood Mac were only moments away from taking the stage. Instinctively, you peeked your head behind you through the crowd to look for Javi, relieved when you saw his broad figure hustling down the stairs, waving at you with a goofy grin the whole way. 

"I was worried I was gonna have to come find you before the show started!” You sighed, grabbing Javi’s face and giving his cheeks a playful squeeze before giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

“Osita, you know I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

Any high hopes that you had for the show were surpassed, and then some. The band played all of your favorites, the both of you singing and dancing along, probably making complete fools of yourselves, but you couldn’t care less. 

You were particularly impressed with Javi’s over dramatic stomping and air drumming to “The Chain” to kick off the show, having to grab his beer to keep it from spilling all over himself several times throughout his performance. Although incredibly offbeat, Javi's enthusiasm made up for any drunken lack of rhythm throughout the song.

The both of you couldn’t help but shout along to “I Don’t Wanna Know” at the top of your lungs, painfully off key and obnoxiously loud, Javi reaching down to grab your finger, wrapping his hands around it to use as his own makeshift microphone for the entire duration of the song. 

During “Landside”, you found Javi standing behind you, chest pressed to your back and arms wrapped around you as you swayed back and forth, gently wiping your tears and choking back his own as he whispered in your ear how lucky he was to build his life around you and your girls, mumbling something about how if any of the girls get married and pick this song to do a father daughter dance to, he’d be an absolute mess. 

By the end of the concert, you and Javi were both exhausted, giving every last ounce of energy to “Go Your Own Way”, the crowd erupting with thunderous applause as the show came to a close, lights flashing and confetti exploding from the ends of the stage in an array of bright colors in the same way your heart felt like it was exploding with joy from the incredible time you had with Javi. 

Over the cheers and hollers, Javi leaned in, cupping your cheek in his palm, the other arm wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to his chest, capturing you in a kiss that seemed to make time stop and everyone else disappear, feeling like in that moment, no one else existed but the two of you. 

“I love you so much, Osita.” 

”I love you too, Javi.”

“Tonight was- Oh shit, hold on,” Javi paused, letting out a long, low burp, a signature Drunk Javi move, placing his hand over his chest and letting out a long sigh before speaking again, “Sorry, that felt good. Wait, what was I saying again?” 

“That you had a lot of fun. I think it’s time that we get you home, cowboy.” You couldn’t help but snort at his impressive display of flatulence, wrapping your arm around his waist as you walked with the flow of the crowd departing from the stadium, hand patting his hip in reassurance. 

It wasn’t until you began to try and travel up the stairs and through the sea of concert goers that you realized just how drunk Javi was. While wrapping your arm around his hip had started off as a sweet gesture to help guide him in the right direction to leave, you began to worry that you were going to have to try and keep him up until the two of you got to the car. 

Thankfully, your humming, happy as can be Javi made it to your parking spot, breaking free of your grasp to race to your car, tugging at the driver’s side door with profound confusion at it’s locked state. 

“Hermosa! The car is locked! How are we gonna get home if we can’t get in?” Javi fretted, tugging harder at the door handle. 

“I have the keys, baby, don’t worry.” You laughed, reaching into your purse to unlock the truck’s doors, sending Javi stumbling backwards as the driver’s side swung open from his last tug at the handle. “Also, you are on the wrong side there, pendejo. I’m driving home, remember?” 

“Oh fuck, you are! I was gonna say, I think I’m a lil drunk. I probably shouldn’t drive.” Javi grimaced, quickly scampering to the other side of the car as you unlocked it, laughing as you watched him squeeze into the passenger set that was clearly set for your stature and not his. 

“I think you might be more than just a little drunk, baby.” You corrected, clicking in your seatbelt and firing up the ignition, peeling out of your parking spot. 

“Yeah, I’m a lot a bit drunk. I’m sorry, Osita.” He pouted, slumping his face in his hand, elbow resting on the center console. 

“Jav, why on earth would you possibly be sorry?” You frowned, wondering what Javi had to apologize for. 

“I’m sorry I’m so drunk and now you have to drive me home.” 

“Baby, I’m glad that you decided to get drunk. I wanted you to have a good time! Number one, you’re always driving me home whenever I wanna have fun and number two, it’s your birthday, and you deserve to let loose and have as much fun as you want to. Don’t apologize, okay?” You smiled, gently grabbing your hand in his and giving it a little squeeze, instantly flooding his face with relief. 

“Okay. I’m sorry I talked to those ladies sitting by us earlier while you were going to the bathroom, too. I was just trying to be nice. I just wanted to tell them how excited I was to see Fleetwood Mac with you, and how beautiful and amazing and perfect you are, and that you’re the best wife ever.” 

“I know Jav, it’s okay. I didn't even think twice about it. They were very sweet, and said you had lots of nice things to say about me and the girls. It was very cute.” You smirked, lifting your interlocked hands to your lips to plant a kiss on his knuckles, giving it an even tighter squeeze of reassurance in the process. 

At this point, Javi had practically melted into the passenger seat, limbs spread out as wide as he could to try and get comfortable, tilting his head towards you with a mischievous grin and sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes. 

“You know what we should do when we get home?” Javi asked, now biting down on his lip to try and subdue his smirk. 

“I don’t know Javi, what should we do?” You responded back mockingly. 

“We shoulddddddddd....” He paused, dancing in his seat in excitement.

“We shoulddddddd, what, baby?” You sighed, laughing to yourself at his drunken goofiness. 

“We shouldddddd throw away your birth control and make another baby when we get home tonight.” Now Javi was full on beaming in an ear to ear grin, raising his eyebrows at you as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to find any way to warm you up to his intoxicated acquisition. 

“Javi! We talked about this!” You scolded, giving him a playful slap to his chest, doing nothing to wipe his stupidly wide smirk off his face. “4 kids is a lot of kids. At least one of us can have a spare hand with 3, even if we’re outnumbered. I think 3 is the magic number, babe.” 

“I knowwwww, but making babies with you is like, the best thing ever. If you asked me to list my favorite things to do, that would be number one, no question.” Javi protested, convinced that this argument alone would be enough of a selling point for you. 

“Believe me, you’re not wrong, Jav. It’s a ten out of ten pastime, but even if I stopped taking my birth control tonight, I don't think it would happen, ya goof.” 

“Crazier things have happened. Maybe we'd just get really lucky. Our daughters are so cute. I know it’s unfair to say because they’re our kids, but like, we make some cute fuckin’ babies, Hermosa. What if we made another super cute baby? Just like, one more?” At this point, Javi had broken out his signature pout and big baby cow eyes, looking at you like a stray puppy who had been kicked to the curb. 

“Another adorable baby means I’m gonna have to build up my immunity to those sweet, sad, puppy dog eyes even more, and I honestly don’t know if I’m strong enough. I don’t know how all 3 of the girls ended up with your big brown eyes, but I hope you know it’s killing me slowly because of how frickin’ cute they are.” You sighed in defeat, knowing that your willpower with 3 sets of Javi’s mini-me’s was already low enough, let alone adding a 4th pair to the mix. 

“Soooooooooo it’s a maybe?” 

“Oh my god, you are so bad, Javier Jesus Peña.” 

“That’s not a yes or a no, Osita.” 

“....Maybe. But don’t get your hopes up, okay?” 

“So we’re not not gonna make a baby tonight?” 

“Javi, I love you, baby, but with how much you’ve had to drink, I don’t think nature is going to give you enough grace to even let that possibility play out.” You snorted, gesturing down to his crotch, making him roll his eyes. 

“Okay, that only happened one other time!” Javi sloppily pointed at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, when you were absolutely hammered after Steve’s 40th birthday party and wouldn’t let me put you to bed until you could prove to me that you did not, in fact, get whiskey dick, to which you fell asleep with your hands down your pants sitting in the guest room chair, unable to prove your point.” 

“That was not my proudest moment, I will admit that. Most of the time, I’m pretty good at sex, though.” Javi retorted, trying to bring himself back from your last point made. 

“Yes, Jav, you’re very good at sex.” You agreed, patting him on the leg and rubbing his thigh. 

“So good…. That we should make another baby tonight when we get home.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“I’m just saying!” 

“Jesus Christ, you goof. I think when we get home, someone needs to drink some water and get into bed. I love you very much, but that’s about as far as we’re getting tonight.” You laughed, rustling the messy curls of his hair as he leaned his head to rest against your shoulder. 

Javi sat silent for a moment, watching the headlights of the cars flash through his window, staring into the serene darkness of the clear night sky, the familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours in a comfortable calm. It was almost as if you could feel his eyelids beginning to droop, slowly closing while his sleepy state washed over him as he nestled against you. And while in that moment, the air between you hung quiet, you could hear the silent agreement that if given the choice, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, right now, with each other. 

“Hey, Hermosa?” 

“Yeah, Jav?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“....Enough that we should make another baby tonight?” 

“Javi!”

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

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@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

stable. l Joel Miller

Summary: you won't admit what you feel

Warnings: smut (+18) and fluff, but also a little bit of angst ; Ellie appears there; reader feels insecure, mention of pregnancy

A/N: special thanks to @underneath-the-sky-again . thank you for your patience and support, sweetie

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"I don't like it. I really don't like it."

You looked away from Ellie, who was trying on a pair of new clothes, and looked towards Ann. For a few minutes she had been standing in front of the shop window, staring at something on the other side of the street, munching on dried apple slices every now and then.

Ellie needed new clothes, so you went to a place in Jackson where you could trade old and good clothes for new ones. You met Ann on the way and she thought she could see if she could find something for the baby she and Shane were expecting. Meanwhile, she was completely uninterested in clothes for a few minutes.

"What do you mean?" you asked, approaching her and glancing over her shoulder with interest. You understood immediately. "Oh."

"Oh." Ann parroted after you, at which point Hazel's hand squeezed Joel's shoulder and she burst out laughing charmingly. "Hazel really does have a thing for Joel. Maybe she doesn't know that you and he..."

"She recently brought a cake that she made as a thank you to Joel for helping her with some repairs at her house. I opened the door for her."

"And?"

"She asked if I could call him over so she could give it to him personally."

Ann looked at you pointedly. Shane must have told her about the whole situation, but she had noticed it herself as well.

"And what about Joel? Have you talked to him?" she huffed as you rolled your eyes. "What's that supposed to mean? You're together, right? If this situation makes you uncomfortable..."

"It's not like that." You mumbled. "I know Joel. He's loyal and I know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me on purpose. Those are my insecurities." Ann frowned. "What? She's beautiful."

"You too!" she shook her head and sighed "You should do something about it. I know Joel would never... But look how you feel. He's your rock, don't let some chick..."

"Should I put a dead rat on her doormat?"

You and Ann jumped at the sound of Ellie's voice, which you didn't expect at all. The girl fixed her eyes on Joel and Hazel, a sly smile on her face.

"Don't even think about it!" you scolded her and lightly slapped her on the shoulder.

"Why?" Ann laughed, "That's a good idea."

"Don't give her solutions like that." you chuckled "Grown-ups solve problems like that differently."

"I can find a rat like that in an hour." Ellie butted in.

"Oh, and you're acting like an adult?" Ann pointed out your words "You don't tell him how you feel, and it's eating you up inside."

"It's not like that..." you groaned.

"So what about the rat?"

"Ellie, please!" you hissed. "No rats. Let's end this pointless conversation. Did you find what you were looking for?" Ellie showed the pair of clothes in her arms. "Great! We're going home, I promised to help Joel with the stables."

You left the store before either of them could say anything else.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I can see that." Joel was leaning against the entrance to the stall and watching you brush one of the horses. "Something's bothering you."

You gave him a quick look, he knew it perfectly. He was slowly getting to the point that was unpleasant for you. Since Shane's wedding, you seemed to have something to worry about, even though you tried to hide it. But Joel knew you all too well.

"Is it about Ellie?" he said casually.

"No." You answered without even looking at him.

"So about Tommy?" No. "Maria. Ann. Shane." No, no, no. "Did I do something wrong?" No. "Hazel?"

He must have hit the nail on the head, because you frowned and gave him a nervous look. He really shouldn't have been surprised. Hazel had been around you quite often lately, and although Joel didn't treat her in a special way, he guessed that you might have felt uneasy.

He wasn't blind. He remembered your uncertain expression at the wedding when your dress got stained with juice, or when Hazel visited your house and completely ignored you.

Joel, however, thought that what he felt for you was obvious. Apparently he was wrong. He sighed quietly and entered the booth.

"You know she only wants me to help her, right?" he asked.

You snorted something incomprehensible, he smiled under his breath.

"Sweetie, talk to me. I prefer when things are clear between us."

You put the brush on the shelf and wiped your hands on a cloth.

"I don't like her." you mumbled. "I don't know why... No! I know. I don't like the way she looks at you."

"And how does she look?"

You frowned. "You know perfectly well how she looks at you." His smile only made your blood pressure rise. "Oh, you're awful!"

You threw a rag at him and quickly left the stall. You didn't get far, though, because after a moment Joel's arm wrapped around your waist.

"You know you're really sexy when you're jealous of me?" His voice sounded right next to your ear as he pressed you closer to him.

"I'm not jealous at all!" You growled.

"You are, babe." He pulled you towards the empty stall where you kept the haystacks. "And this is adorable."

He turned you to face him. His dark eyes were fixed on you, and a smile was playing on his lips. If it weren't for the fact that he was teasing you so much at that moment, you could have admitted he was right. His arms held you tightly.

"Let me go, someone might come in here." you said, trying to free yourself from his grip.

"There's no one here but us. It's late." His face came closer to yours, warm breath fanning over your cheek. "Admit it, darling."

"No. I won't boost your ego, Joel."

His lips brushed your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. All the emotions that were swirling inside you were slowly starting to calm down. That's how he affected you.

"Admit it." he whispered again.

"No. Besides..." you took a deep breath. "You stink, Joel."

He chuckled. "You do too, darling." you patted his shoulder, but you couldn't hide your smile. "So? You know that only you matter to me. What we have is big, and I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world."

"Are you sure?"

He looked at you with incredible seriousness. Everything that was unspoken hung between you. A warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushed your lower lip.

"You're my whole life, babe. My everything." he said, and you felt that he really meant it.

"I love you." you replied almost in a whisper, and he smiled gently.

"I know."

And before you could say anything more, he kissed you, tenderly and with feeling. In one kiss, there was everything that neither of you said, but felt. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss and completely surrendered to the moment. 

Suddenly, you felt a haystack behind you and after a moment you were lying on it. Joel's hands slid under your shirt, wandering over your heated body. He kissed your jaw, your neck and went lower. The colossal hand squeezed your breast, and you felt the excitement growing in your belly.

"Damn, Joel..." you whispered "Someone might find us here."

"I don't care." he replied and started to unbutton your pants "I want you. Now."

The last rational thoughts flew out of your head. You hastily unbuckled his belt, the bulge in his jeans was very visible and as soon as you slid them down his manhood appeared in front of you in all its glory. Joel wanted to take off your pants, but he only managed to do it with one leg.

"Leave it." you hurried him and pulled him to you, kissing him deeply. "Yes, I was jealous. So fucking jealous of you."

"I knew it." he smiled, his fingers sliding over your folds. "But I'm only yours. Remember."

You nodded, then sighed as he slid inside you with one hard thrust. No matter how many times you made love with Joel, this moment always took your breath away. Your body accepted him willingly, and your legs knew exactly how to wrap around his hips to make him go even deeper.

"Fuck." Joel moaned right into your ear. "You're amazing, fucking amazing." 

You didn't answer. You couldn't. His movements were fast, strong, and violent. As if he wanted to show you that all he wanted was you and no one else in the world mattered.

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, the silence filled only with your quick breaths, the sounds of skin slapping against skin. A strong hand grabbed your butt and lifted your hips a little, a sweet moan escaped your throat. The new angle made Joel roll exactly where you needed him.

"Only you... Only you, baby..." he whispered in your ear with ragged breaths, and you believed every word he said.

And when you left the stable together, even the rain that was falling didn't bother you then. Your clothes got soaked through, but you didn't care. The hand that held you was your anchor, your safe haven. Whatever happened to you, you knew you would overcome it together. You were his, Joel was yours. It just had to be that way.

"What's so funny to you?" Ellie mumbled, who was curled up on the couch and looked up from her comic book in surprise.

"It's raining." Joel replied, taking off his wet jacket.

"And?" the girl raised her eyebrows "You hate the rain. Damn! You're getting weird in your old age." Her gaze shifted to you, you were trying to take off your wet shoes and not fall over "Do you have hay in your hair?"

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[vanesycho]

Can u write maths professor Haechan nsfw? And I ssly love your works so much 🥺 you are so amazing 💚✨

• student f!reader x math professor!haechan | m.list

warning | smut, fingering, kinda age gap

word count | 1,4k

a/n | thank you very much for your nice comment love, I hope you like it🤍

enjoy reading！

The corridors of the mathematics department on the vast campus of the university were always quiet. Professor Lee Donghyuck was a figure who brought this silence to life with his energetic demeanor. The reason he was popular among the students was not only his charisma, but also his teaching skills that could make even complex topics understandable. However, at this point, you definitely didn’t care about the lesson.

Your eyes started to focus on him instead of the equations on the board, the way he held his pencil, the way he adjusted his glasses every now and then, the way he explained the problem to the students by leaning slightly towards them, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, the mocking yet warm smile on his lips when one of the students gave the wrong answer...

“Y/n L/n.” When you looked around, an empty lecture hall greeted you, Hyuck’s gaze was fixed on you, you quickly lowered your head and started to pack your things. You were about to pick up your notebook when a hand stopped you. When you looked up, you were met with him. “Should we talk about this constant distraction you experience?” his voice was deep and whispery, making you swallow hard as you looked away from him. “I’m sorry professor.. It wasn’t something I did on purpose.” he slowly pulled his hand away from your notebook, quickly grabbing your last item and standing up. “Did I say you can go?” you were about to walk past him but his voice stopped you. He reached you in a few steps, you felt a shiver run down your spine when his breath caught your ear. “Tell me, what did you learn in this lesson?”

Fuck. Your eyes drifted to the board as you muttered a curse under your breath. Hyuck’s hand found your chin when he noticed it, turning your face to him. "Ah-ah, no cheating. Since when did you stop listening so much?" it was more of a scolding than a question, he definitely didn’t expect an answer from you so you just stayed silent. “Understood. You better come to my office tomorrow. We need to make up for the lesson you missed, okay?” you nodded in agreement as the thought of being alone with him increased your blood circulation. “I don’t think I got an answer, Y/n?” He leaned towards you, the word 'I understand' you mumbled vaguely made him grin slightly, you let out a breath the moment he finally pulled away from you, even this small conversation was driving you crazy so you didn't stay there any longer and threw yourself out.

"Come in." The door opened and Hyuck's head shot up, a smile on his face as his eyes saw you. "Ah..Y/n. I've been waiting for you." He started the lesson without much conversation between you. But the same problem distracted you again, him. His voice had taken over your focus, you looked at the pen he was twirling in his fingers, not even understanding what he was talking about. Was he delicate with his fingers? Or was he the type who acted completely cruel? Oh, you would do anything to get the answer to that.

You licked your dry lips, his hand with slightly veined eyes made you press your legs together. Donghyuck's gaze occasionally went to you, he could clearly see that you weren't focusing, he put the pen he was holding on the book and took a deep breath. "You're not focusing Y/n, what's on your mind, hm?" Your breath caught for a moment, you looked at him, "No- nothing, professor." He hummed. Then stood up and took a book out of his bookshelf and placed it in front of you. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the book you were browsing for a few seconds was about math. Hyuck reached for the book from behind you and opened a page. “Read it. Out loud and if I see you’re distracted, nothing good will happen, understand?”

You nodded quickly, moving to sit next to you as you starting to read. “Integral..” you read the title, you could see him watching you with his eyes locked on your face, the tension gripping you, even though it was hard to continue knowing he was watching you, you knew you had no other choice. “The indefinite integral is found by inverting the derivative of a function and the constant of integration...” was the thing that cut you off mid-sentence is his hand on your thigh, only amusing him as your breathing stopped momentarily. You could feel him moving closer to you, his breath tickling your neck. “What’s wrong Y/n? You seem distracted again.” he knew exactly what he was doing and it was only getting on your nerves. His hand reached up a little higher, thumb gently caressing you over the panties under your skirt. You fought with yourself not to squeeze your legs together, holding your breath for a moment again as his hand squeezed the inside of your thigh hard. “You know I don’t like my questions to go unanswered, do I have to repeat myself?”

You shook your head, opening your mouth to answer. “No- no I..It’s okay Professor Lee.” He removed his hand from your leg and stood up, grabbing the book in front of you. You let out a deep breath and watched him as he finally moved away. He put the book back in its place and spoke as he approached the table again. “This is what’s disrupting your concentration.” He turned the chair towards him and placed one hand on the top of the chair, leaning slightly towards you. “We can’t continue with this lesson until we find a solution to this problem.” His voice was whispery and made your body tremble. “So sit at the table and spread your legs for me, Miss L/n.”

You were afraid to double-check what he said, and he knew that you wouldn’t go against him when it was Lee Donghyuck. So you got up from the chair and sat on the table and soon he got between your legs, went to your panties, he moved the piece of fabric to the side and his fingers found your pussy "Oh fuck.. How long have you been so wet hm?" His middle finger caressed your clit for a while then slid down, slowly inserting it into your hole. One of your hands went to his shoulder and you squeezed it lightly to keep from moaning, his finger was slow but it felt just as good.

After a while you let out a loud moan this time as he added his second finger "Shh.." his voice found your ear, fingers started to destroy your pussy quickly "Professor..." the needy sound made him mutter a curse. You knew you were close to orgasm, his fingers were moving as if he knew your insides by heart.

"Professor Lee, are you there?"

The sound of a knock on the door made you look at him in fear, he looked into your eyes and replied "What's wrong Sion?" You waited for him to stop, but he fooled you. You put a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noise, nothing more than small whimpers, but damn it you knew you were going to cum soon. “I came to ask you a question about the last class, are you free?” he grinned, leaning into your ear before answering. “Am I free? What’s the worst that could happen if he walks through that door, Miss L/n?” You shook your head quickly, adrenaline rushing through your entire body. “Please..” were the only words you could get out of your mouth, the fact that you were in such a tight spot that it only made him laugh, his fingers curling inside you making it hard for you to hold yourself back, you leaned your head against his chest and finally climaxed. You couldn’t help but moan loudly as all your fluids hit his fingers, “Professor Lee? Is everything okay? Think I heard some- ” while interrupting his sentence he pulled his fingers out of you. “Find me back in an hour Sion. I’m busy right now.”

After a few footsteps, the surroundings became quiet, you heard a giggle as you buried your head in his chest in embarrassment. “Good job, Miss L/n. See? You managed to cum without losing your focus, so that must be the problem.” You watched him clean up the place, after a while he came back across you and put his hands on either side of the table, squeezing you. “I hope you’ll be more careful from now on. If I see you distracted again, I won’t care if people see you this time.” You nodded in approval, he placed a small kiss on your lips and whispering, “Well done, my girl. We’ll continue our unfinished lesson tomorrow, okay? Class is over for now.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my friend that I did not care it made her upset about some of the things I did with my OCs?

I (18F) made OCs with my friends: Kayla (18F), Bell (18F), and Kia (18F). Kayla said that she had a system that had fictives in it. I didn't really understand what she meant by that, but I wasn't going to judge. At least for a little while. We added a discord bot that would help Kayla be able to talk through her different identities in the server. But it got weird.

One day I saw her talking as if she was one of my ocs (I'll dub Chi for this post) and I felt weirded out by that. Kayla then announced that Chi was part of her system. She goes on about how Chi had suddenly appeared in her system and it took 2 days before her other identities accepted her as part of them.

I said that it was weird that Kayla put one of my ocs in her system, but she insisted she wasn't doing it on purpose. Bell and Kia asked me to just knock it off and respect Kayla because "people with systems can't control it when their system changes." I said that I don't like that she has Chi in her system and that Chi was my OC. This felt like someone was stealing my OC from me. Kayla got upset about that and said "you're upsetting everyone in my system by saying Chi doesn't belong there. We have all accepted her and hearing you reject her makes us all upset. Please apologize."

I refused to. Then I remembered that I had shared all of Chi's info in my own personal channel. The others can view it, but they can't type in it. So I deleted everything about Chi in there and left a note that Chi was being revised. That sent Kayla into a panic. "Stop! You can't!" She kept saying and "What did you do?" over and over again. I simply said that I was making changes to Chi. Kayla freaked out more over that and said that it was making her system distressed and that I needed to stop. I told her that I already set my mind to it.

Later I reposted Chi's info with some changes. Changed her from being a kind and caring person to cruel and dismissive. I also made it so that she had a criminal history and had murdered people before. She has trouble making friends and thinks everyone is constantly out to get her. To be honest, I like this version of her more than her previous incarnation.

Kayla did not like this and had a meltdown. She started screaming "what did you do?! What did you do?! What did you do to Chi?!" In the voice call we were having with Bell and Kia. She started begging me to change her back because Chi stopped responding in her system and has vanished. And the rest of her identities were in a panic now. She said "Murderer. You killed her. You killed Chi. For us, this feels like someone just died. A part of us is missing. We feel incomplete now. Please fix this. BRING HER BACK! CHANGE HER BACK! MURDERER! MURDERER! YOU'RE A MURDERER!"

I told her that I refused to change her back and this was the new Chi. This would be how Chi will be from now on no matter what people said because "My OC, my rules."

Kayla logged off of discord after calling me an asshole. Even Bell and Kia are siding with her saying that I took it too far. They also said I was an asshole for murdering a part of Kayla's like that. I said that Chi was not Kayla's to control, and that only I should get a say in what is done with Chi. They called me an asshole for not considering Kayla and her system's feelings right now because they were all mourning.

I don't think I did anything wrong, but maybe I should apologize. I would still refuse to change Chi back to what she was before though. So it would just be a half apology just to make her happy.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[luveline]

maybe hotch and reader are expecting a little bambino and nobody else knows until someone points out reader's belly? (i feel like it'd be absolutely hilarious if it was spencer that pointed it out 💀💀)

thank u for ur request! fem!pregnant!reader

"Can I ask you something?" Spencer asks.

You smile at him gently. "Always, Spence." 

He seems cagey despite your assurance, lowering his voice and stepping closer to you. "Do you think maybe you need more fibre in your diet?"

You've been friends, best friends, with Spencer for so long you genuinely can't remember a time in your life where you didn't love him, but you have no idea what to say to that. It's the weirdest thing he's ever said unprompted. That's saying something. 

"Is there… a reason that you're asking me?" 

"There's three," he says. He waits for you to nod before laying them out. "For a few weeks now you've been more tired than usual. You're hungry all the time, and your stomach is bloated. I know that can feel painful, you could eat a handful of chia seeds in the morning and it would help." 

You feel like someone's dropped an ice cube down the back of your t-shirt. Disarmed, you turn to Hotch where he's standing at the whiteboard, your hand moving automatically to your stomach. He gives you a similarly perturbed look. Derek's head shoots up at the list of symptoms, and Emily covers her mouth at your protective hand where it's poised. Fucking profilers.

"I've actually been taking vitamins," you say, wondering if you can still save it.  

Emily is the first to break. "Wait, are you–?" She doesn't let herself finish. 

Spencer shakes his head, brown curls bouncing at the base of his neck. "What?" he asks, his lips twisting into a trademark pout. 

"Spence," you murmur, taking his wrists into your hands. "I want you to know that I was going to tell you first. This weekend, genuinely. I didn't think you'd notice so soon, is all."  

He looks at Hotch, then you, then Hotch again. You press your lips together. "Please don't be upset," you say. 

It clicks. There and then, you witness the cogs turning. "You're pregnant?" he asks breathlessly. 

"On purpose," you joke. 

Spencer tackles you. His arms fly around your waist, a tight, brotherly squeeze of a hug that makes you feel like you're gonna burst. "You're kidding!" 

You're barraged by hugs. Emily, Derek, JJ. Rossi shakes Hotch's hand and pats his back in congratulations, which is so old-man style you find yourself laughing under JJ's arm. "How do you know it's his?" you ask Rossi. 

Hotch laughs as Derek moves in for a similar bro-hug, nothing but love in his eyes as he smiles at you from over Derek's shoulder. You smile back, amazed and ecstatic at their happy reactions, until Spencer forces JJ aside with more gusto than he likely should to hug you again. You're blinded by his wild hair. 

"I don't think you can fix this with a cup of chia seeds," Derek says. 

"We couldn't be happier," Hotch assures him. 

"On purpose, huh? When were you going to tell us?" Emily asks, her face a picture of surprise, a hint of disappointment in her thin brows. "I had no idea you wanted another one!" 

"Jack wants a brother," Hotch says. "You know she can't say no to him. And he's perfect–" 

"But there's nothing wrong with wanting more," Rossi finishes, his eyes gleaming. 

"I thought it might be a little awkward to emphasise that we were trying," you say, patting Spencer's shoulders. 

Emily winces. "Gotcha." 

"Let's see the bump, mama," Derek says. 

You step back from Spencer's side to turn, holding your shirt flat to the underside of your baby bump. It got bigger quicker than you thought it would, and now that it's been pointed out, it's obvious. 

Derek shakes his head in disbelief. "That's–" 

"Amazing," Hotch says. You beam at him. 

There's a second round of hugs. Delight thrums in the air like a charge, laughter buoyant. Hotch parts the sea of excitement to kiss your cheek and hug your shoulder proudly, turning his head away from everyone. You know what he's thinking —this is going to be a really special time for you both. Your team will make sure of it.

"Um?" Penelope asks, elbowing open the door with a weighty laptop in her hands. "Did I miss something?" 

Penelope, predictably, screams down the house at the presenting of your bump. Then she cries, and for a while you're all unashamedly teary-eyed. 

[pale-fairytales]

I don't really like to get political but I feel a need to talk about this;

It's so funny. It's so funny to me that the people pushing for KOSA also criticize other countries who do the exact same shit (i.e., China, which from what I've heard (and correct me if I'm wrong please) censors a lot of things) and hate their guts. The fact that they're pushing for censorship directly violates one of the amendments of the constitution (which is free speech) and it baffles me that they think this is okay. But hey these are also the same people that won't do anything about gun violence or school shootings and who want to take away bodily autonomy and gay/trans rights so why am I even surprised.

For the love of god, if you can, help stop KOSA. Not just for fandom purposes, but for the fact that it impacts people who want to transition, people who want/need abortions, it impacts a way that human beings can seek out human contact in an increasingly lonely world where things are growing bleak. Not only that, but the people who are suffering from genocide (8 FUCKING GENOCIDES IN THE WORLD BTW) may not be able to get help or get the word out about their condition if a big chunk of the world can't access the content that helps said people.

And I'm sorry, but if you really cared about children's safety, you a) would do more about school shootings, b) would fix issues that put children in danger (shockingly hunger/malnutrition is still an issue in the U.S.A. just not in the same way as in a war-torn country), c) would fix the foster-care/adoption system, and d) teach parents to have some common fucking sense not to have 5-year-olds on the internet watching age-inappropriate stuff (like 5 year olds listening to Sexxy Red or Ice Spice)

Censorship is bad. It's bad because it can genuinely put lives at risk. If you're for the KOSA bill, don't pretend like it's because you care. You don't care about people—you just want to control them. Just like the people you and its instigators hate so much.

[andrsnsgirl]

if you had known that opening a car washing service to raise money for your college sophomore trip would have led to you to be bent down on the hood of a car with a pink, squiring dildo in your pussy, you would have done it way earlier. you must admit the idea was quite the eureka moment. it's summer and it hasn't rained for days, all sports have stopped for the summer and being back in town whilst your parents worked all day was feeling a little depressing which was leading to the cars in the town being covered by a thin layer of dust and to you being constantly hot and in need of a cold shower. it wasnt that hard to put the two things together.

you distributed flyers around, hung them up in diner’s, cafe’s and along the street, choose a large empty spot near the road and that was it. d-day was hot and dry, and you only smiled more staring at your pretty outfit in the mirror. low cut jeans shorts that barely covered your ass and your pink coral reef bikini set, one you knew was going to become transparent with the first lick of water, transparent enough to give your clients the show of your pierced nipples. after all, you knew a good show was gonna bring more money, and you didn't intend to waste that opportunity.

with a touch of gloss on your lips and throwing your hair in an up-do, you were ready to go. you had not been wrong. your clients, mostly men somehow, had enjoyed the show, whistling at you while you washed their windows, wet shirt clinging to your chest and foam all over your neck and legs. you had played along, giggling and swaying your hips while humming to the song playing on the radio, smiling widely at the generous tips. and then she had came along. abby, the new boxer trainer down at the gym. you had seen her many times there, she and dina staring at you from the glass window with the excuse of watching dina’s girlfriend, ellie training. well, dina was staring at her girlfriend. but you? you couldn't take your eyes off abby, from her arms popping with veins, tattoos littered in all the right places and sweaty long hair falling in her face as she tucked one side behind her ear.

you got aroused just by staring at her that day, and remembers a long cold shower afterwards, using your favourite clear dildo to fuck yourself open, coming, chanting abby’s name. and now she was here, with a black tank top showing off her muscled shoulders and gym shorts that gave you the perfect view of the thighs you wanted to ride with abby’s hands wrapped around your neck. you see the last car of the day pull up and make sure to refill your tub of now extremely soapy water and put on your best smile despite the main attraction being your body.

abby lowers down her tinted window, smiling at you, "hey, [redacted] right?" you simply nod your head, biting your lips, "yep, that's me" abby just nods, slowly staring you up and down, you feeling proud when you see her stare fixing on the low edge of your shorts. abby coughs and gives you her money, "uhm, thank you for this, i hope it's enough?" you just hums and nods, turning around and going to dunk the buckets in the soapy water and bring them over to her car. you’re excited, adrenaline running in your veins. you’re gonna give abby the best show ever made.

abby is flustered, her ears get all red and hot. the strap in her shorts becomes increasingly uncomfortable to be wearing as she sits behind her car wheel and watches you wash her car. but really she can’t be blamed. she’s pretty sure you are doing it on purpose to rile her up because in no way, shape or form do you need to extend like that to clean the hood, your shorts rising up until all ass is sticking out and you pause the wash before completely undressing yourself out of the shorts, leaving you in just your bikini set. she almost honked her horn because she didn’t think you were wearing any sort of underwear. water falls on your lips trailing to the chest and she curses when she see’s the outline of your nipple piercings poking through the top. you sigh and look at the progress you’ve made, you’ve been working all day without a break and was in desperate need of one.

abby thinks you must be enjoying this game when she sees you prance up to her window with a tilted head. “hey do you mind if i have a 5 minute break”, you whine “it’s hot and i’ve been working all day” abby bites her tongue to not curse, shifting uncomfortably in her seat pushing her strap down, trying to hide it, “uh s..sure.” you watch the movements of her hands and uncomfortableness and take note of her crimson red ears. you giggle, biting your lip once again “cute” you mumble.

the second your break is up you’re right back washing the rest of her car. skin tanned so perfect and on display. your dermals perfectly gleaming in the sun in front of abby, so ready to be marked kissed and ruined. abby inhales and runs her fingers through her hair turning her ac on blast to help cool herself. all she wants to do is get out her car and fuck you open until you go limp, seeing your juices around her strap and coming all over that ass she’s beginning to love. you’re staring at her, all flushed, wet and pretty and abby has her face in both her hands as she groans out loud at the sight. she breaks out of it when you tap her back window. “there is an area that i can’t seem to reach, care to help me?” and abby knows, she knows you’re playing a game and God she wishes this game would end exactly how she wants it to, which means you bent on the front of the fucking hood, moaning loud enough for every bystander to turn their heads.

abby follows you outside, and you just smile at her before bending yourself on the hood, your arms stretching in front of you, trying to reach a point near the windscreen. abby inhales sharply, hands itching to trace the skin of your back and hips, to pull down that stupid string that dangles on the sides of your bottoms and spread your legs right there and then. you wiggle below her, "can you reach it?"

abby breathes slowly, clearing her throat before lowering down, covering your body with her own and bringing the sponge in your hand where she wants it. she inhales when her chest comes in contact with your wet back, the girl beneath her letting down a soft sigh at the weight above her. "h-here you g-"

abby’s words are cut off by you bucking up under her, your ass pushing back against abby's strap, her end digging in to her clit. a whiny curse comes out of her mouth, your eyes fluttering shut getting a feel of the silicone shape. abby stands still, afraid that if she moves, or if you do it again, she wont be able to contain herself. that's exactly what you want apparently.

the smaller girl turns her head on the side, staring right into abby before you buck up again. you moan at the feeling, eyes wide still staring at abby. "i know you want to fuck me" you mumble, ass moving is small circles on abby's strap, adding more pressure very time, "good thing i haven't stopped thinking about your cock splitting me in half in days.”

abby curses before crashing your lips together, grabbing at your hips to maintain balance. abby unties the string of a bikini you wore and pulls them down your legs. when she gets up, is to the view of a pretty naked girl spread on the hood of her car, legs wide open and fingers playing with her folds and head back. "please a..abby", you whine, foam and water falling from your hair, thighs and back. abby curses, quickly undoing her drawstring and dropping her shorts on the wet ground. she wraps her hand around her own cock, slapping your pussy with "fuck look at you" she says, her finger already circling your clit, "spread out like this on my car, opening yourself up for me. you want my cock that bad?"

you whine, bucking up when abby finally pushes her fingers past the ring of muscle, stretching you out, "y-yes " you mumble, "been thinking about you ever since i saw you in the g-gym window, wanted your cock right there and then" abby hums, fingering you slowly. you are loud, whining and moaning and pushing back against her fingers, asking her to fuck you faster, deeper. "your cock a-abs, your cock" you sight, spreading your legs even wider. abby kneads her fingers in your pussy, drinking in the way you gape and suck her fingers in. she can only imagine how tight we will be around her cock.

and the reality is better than imagination in this case, because the moment you push in, abby knows you won't last long. you let out a silent moans, your walls incredibly tight around abby's cock. both of them are breathing loud, adjusting to the new wonderful feeling. abby trying to grip your waist, the skin slipper from the soap and water. after a minute, you look at her over your shoulder, wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead and neck. you look absolutely breathtaking, tears at the edge of your eyes and lips puffed and red, "move abby please", you plead, "just fuck me p-please" and abby is a weak woman.

she pulls out almost completely, before thrusting right back in, you letting out a loud moan, yours head falling down on the hood with a loud thump, "y.yeah like that". abby keeps thrusting in and out, your body moving along the hood, moans and groans and sighs filling the empty space. she knows she’s fucking you hard, and yet you keep demanding more, faster, harder.

so abby can only grab your thighs and piston with immense strength. you’re falling apart with every thrust, too gone to sound coherent anymore. "fuck you're so fucking tight.. God look at you" abby groans, clit twitching when you push back to fuck on her cock, your hips meeting midway, "taking it so well, you were born to take cock weren't you?"

and you can only nod and whine, mumbling about how good she feels, how full you are. it's when you get up on your elbows, fucking yourself back on abby's cock with the small energy you mustered up, head laid back and the muscles of her back tensing that abby tops over the edge, barely able to pull out before shooting the faux cum all over your back with a loud moan. you whine at the loss, body shaking by being so /close/ and yet not able to come yet. you wiggle on the hood, "please abs i wanna come"

and abby pushes herself to her knees the next second, pulling your cheeks apart and sucking at your swollen clit, her tongue lazily thrusting up and down your slit. with the warm wet feeling of her tongue, you double over, body spasming with the force of your orgasm, spurring white all over abby’s face and dripping on to the hood of the car. it takes a couple of minutes for both to calm down, a minute in which they kiss slowly, abby massaging the skin of your back.

you chuckle when she gets up, and sees the mess on both herself and the car. you turn towards abby, who's staring at the ground, a blush coloring her flustered face and ears seem to have an even deeper red. you just giggle and string your bikini bottom back on going to your bag to out back on your shirt and shorts, before walking towards her and ruffling her hair, "guess i owe you another service since the car is even dirtier than before dont you think?" abby laughs and nods, you wrapping your arms around her neck.

[inkyrainstorms]

The Martian Stan AU - The Apology - Excerpt

Ford was working as he always was nowadays, half listening to the radio behind him and trying to stop his heart from jumping in his throat every time that Stan stopped speaking for more than 10 minutes and nothing but static filled the room again. Ford wasn’t sure what exactly his brother was talking about anymore, as he welded a set of support bolts into place, but he nearly dropped the welding gun on his foot when Stan suddenly spoke after a long stretch of silence.

“Ford?”

Ford fumbled for a moment before shoving a stack of loose paper aside and  setting the welding gun down on the table beside him. He put his hands on either side of the radio on the same cluttered table and took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart.

“Yes, Stanley?” He asked softly.

Stan, of course, didn’t hear him, but had paused as if waiting for a response before continuing anyway.

“I know, I know damn well you’re probably never gonna hear this, but I need to say it anyway before… Well. I don’t need to eat as often and shit and I know you’d love to figure out why but… I’m not sure how long I’m gonna last out here either way.”

Ford didn’t say anything, staring down at the wooden grain of the table like he could burn a hole clean through it with his thoughts alone. His palms ached from where he’d dug in his fingernails, and his shoulders mangled to hunch even further.

Stan laughed. It was a bitter, ugly sound.

“Ah, damnit. This isn’t about me. Can’t even do this right, you idiot” His brother took a deep breath. “ But Ford… I think I need to apologize.”

Some old, fossilized hurt in Ford’s heart snarked ‘you think?’, but Ford nearly gagged as he suffocated the thought before it could take root anew. He felt sick.

Oblivious to Ford’s turmoil —and of course he was, because he didn’t know Ford was right here, that Ford wasn’t going to let one of the last things he ever said to Stan be that he thought Stan was worthless— Stan continued.

“I don’t think I ever got to, back when… you know. What I said that night is a bit of a blur to me to be honest, but I know I was spouting nonsense and saying all the wrong shit and… Moses, Ford. I know it’s too late now but I’m sorry. I really am.”

Something in Ford simultaneously healed and broke in his chest at Stan’s words, but he didn’t get the chance to process it because Stan wasn’t quite done yet.

“And I need you to know it wasn’t on purpose. I’d never do that to you. Never. Why would I ever want to hurt you like that, poindexter? I just… I was scared and I didn’t want to be alone in Glass Shard Beach scraping barnacles off the Taffy shop for the rest of my miserable life and I wasn’t. Thinking.” Stanley’s voice had been rising in a steady crescendo, but suddenly got so quiet that Ford had to strain to catch the words in the buzzing static. “I’d… I shouldn’t have gone into the gym. I shouldn’t have even gone near your friggin project. I didn’t go there to break it, I would never—“ his voice broke. “I thought you knew that. I’m your brother, you dingbat, why would I ever want to hurt you?When did I ever not support you, man?”

“Then why did you do it?” Ford whispered back, just as quiet. That old anger he’d tried to push down rose up again, simmering. Stan knew he’d poured months of his life into the perpetual motion machine, that he’s shed more than a few tears and more than a little blood and sweat over it. And then he’d thrown it all away?

“I’d only hit the table, ya know. Didn’t think the grate’d pop off or anything like that. I tried to fix it. I know I should’ve told you, I know and I’m sorry, just…” I was scared, goes unspoken. Ford’s legs were shaking, and he tried to steadily himself by leaning further on the table. “I know I should’ve told you. I know. I messed up fuckin’ good, Sixer.” Ford flinched.

“I’m. I know you’re never gonna get the apology you deserve cause I was too much of a coward to actually call you and say something.” Stan’s voice was shaking. And I’m sorry for that too. And I’m sorry for not listening to you about your stupid book, and I’m sorry— ugh. We’ll be here all day trying to name my fuckups. That’s the last sorry you’ll ever hear from me you nerdy, uh, nerd.”

Stan sighed loud enough for the radio to crackle and screech. “Good going, Stan,” he muttered, his voice getting quieter as he evidently walked away, done.

And all that was left was static.

Ford pushed himself away from the table and sank into the rolling chair nearby, putting his face in his hands and trying to breathe as the chair was pushed back several feet from his momentum.

“He’s lying,” Ford tried to say, but it tasted like ash in his mouth. “He’s trying to make it so… so.” He faltered. “He’s obviously trying to deceive me.”

Trust no one.

But he had trusted Stan. And Stan got hurled into a Dimension of Nightmares for it.

Stan has no reason to lie, Fords mind whispered, because it was always against him no matter what stance he took. He doesn’t think you’re coming to save him. Why wouldn’t he try to explain the worst mistake of his life in a fit of guilt and complete loss of hope?

“Shut up,” Ford said intelligently, and he didn’t dare pry his face away from his hands, heels of his palms digging into his eye sockets and pushing up his glasses to his hairline

Stan had no reason to lie.

Stan came to help him at the drop of a hat after ten years of being too afraid to even call him. 

Stan… Stan didn’t mean to break his project. It was a stupid accident, done by a stupid teenager too afraid to admit his own failings. Stan didn’t betray Ford. Not like he thought his twin had, for all these years.

Ford was wrong. About everything. He was wrong about Stan and Bill and Fiddleford and, Moses, had he ever done anything right in his entire, miserable life? Ford didn’t know. 

The empty bunk bed beneath his own  for those last few fateful months before Backupsmore, the tears and screaming at a boat that never even left the shore, the years of resentment and refusing to believe he missed his own twin, what was it all for? Because Ford suddenly felt the sharp sting of grief all over again, throbbing with a ferocity he’d refused to acknowledge for the past few weeks. Years. 

It was like he was 17 years old again, mourning for all the wrong reasons and all the right ones too. For his brother. For his chance to become someone worthy of recognition, of love. For pushing away the ones who’d already loved him.

For the first time since the day Stan fell into the portal all those weeks ago, Ford pulled his knees up to his chest on the seat and, in the safety of his own arms, he wept.

The static crackled on, steady and unchanging. Unforgiving.

———————

@aroace-get-out-of-my-face @littlelilliana15 (if anyone else wants to be tagged pls let me know! I’m going to probably be posting more for this au sometime this week)

I have ideas for a mini comic and a whole animatic using Space Oddity so I’ll just have to see how far I get, really

[r-memberme]

technique | k.m

⎯⎯Then Klaus, in the most delighted tone imaginable, says, “Sweetheart, I do believe you just murdered an innocent shrubbery.”

warnings: fluff

part I part II

She never should have agreed to this.

Not because she dislikes mini golf, but because Klaus Mikaelson is the most competitive man on the face of the earth, and now she is stuck watching him take this ridiculous game as seriously as if he were waging war.

And worse—he is winning.

“Focus, love,” he drawls from behind her as she lines up her shot. “Or must I remind you of the tragic fate of your last attempt?”

She exhales through her nose, resisting the urge to throw the club at his head. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Klaus hums, far too amused. “No? Shall I fetch the poor, lost ball from the parking lot, then?”

She glares. He smirks. The infuriating part is that he’s not even lying. The last hole had resulted in a truly spectacular failure, the ball bouncing off a rock, skittering past the windmill, and vanishing into the abyss beyond the course.

“I don’t need your commentary,” she mutters.

“Oh, but darling, I am merely providing moral support.”

She scowls, taking a breath, adjusting her grip. She will not let him get to her. She will—

Klaus steps forward, far too close, his voice a wicked thing in her ear. “You’re holding the club wrong.”

She startles, nearly dropping the club entirely. “I am not!”

He tuts, shaking his head, before bracketing her with his arms, his hands ghosting over hers. “Here,” he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin, “Let me show you.”

She stiffens. Not because it’s unpleasant—oh no, that would be too simple. No, she stiffens because he is doing it on purpose, taking every possible opportunity to fluster her. And judging by the barely-contained laughter in his voice, he knows it’s working.

“Better?” he asks, all false innocence.

She exhales sharply, trying very hard to ignore how solid he feels pressed against her back. “Just move, Klaus.”

He chuckles, stepping back with an infuriating slowness, as if he’s already won whatever game he’s playing.

Which, considering her current state, he might have.

She shakes it off, re-centers herself, and finally swings.

The ball ricochets off the rock, bounces off the windmill, then—impossibly—flies off the course entirely, disappearing into the bushes with a soft thud.

Silence.

Then Klaus, in the most delighted tone imaginable, says, “Sweetheart, I do believe you just murdered an innocent shrubbery.”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I hate this game.”

Klaus is grinning like the devil himself. “No, love, you just hate losing.”

She turns to him, expression flat. “Oh, you think you’re so good, don’t you?”

He flourishes his club like a sword. “Darling, I am the Michelangelo of mini golf.”

She snorts, incredulous. “Michelangelo was a painter.”

“A sculptor, actually.”

“Not the point.”

Klaus, still smirking, steps up to take his shot. His confidence is infuriating, the way he moves so easily, as if the universe itself would never dare let him fail.

Of course, the ball rolls smoothly into the hole on his first try.

“Oh, come on!” she groans, throwing her arms in the air.

Klaus twirls the putter between his fingers, utterly pleased with himself. “It’s all in the technique, love.”

She considers, for a brief but passionate moment, pushing him into the nearest water hazard.

Instead, she crosses her arms, scowling. “I don’t even know why I’m still trying. You’ve clearly made a blood pact with the mini-golf gods.”

He laughs, stepping closer, eyes bright with mischief. “Perhaps I have. Or perhaps you simply require further guidance.”

She narrows her eyes. “If you try to ‘fix my form’ again, I will swing this club at your head.”

Klaus grins. “Ah, but then how will you ever stand a chance at beating me?”

She exhales. “I’m not beating you. This is impossible.”

He hums, thoughtful, before tilting his head. “How about a wager then?”

She raises a brow. “A wager?”

“If you win the next hole, I’ll grant you one favor. Anything you desire.”

She eyes him suspiciously. “And if I lose?”

Klaus’ smirk turns slow, wicked. “Then you owe me a favor.”

She hesitates. This is dangerous territory. Wagering with Klaus is always dangerous.

But then she thinks of the potential reward—the sweet, sweet possibility of wiping that smug look off his face.

“…Fine,” she says, gripping the putter. “You’re on.”

Klaus inclines his head, looking entirely too pleased. “Then by all means, love. Show me what you’ve got.”

do tell me if you want a part 2 of this one <3

taglist: @ohapple@myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters@xtwistedchaosx

[willowcried]

being quinnie’s little lapdog.

the auditorium.

the only place she allowed you to talk to her at school. anywhere else was completely prohibited. she told you that on day one.

if you tried to talk to her in the hallways, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you. you learned that the hard way, when she left you there like an wet puppy while she walked past, barely sparing you a glance. you didn’t think she was actually serious.

she would apologize later, sure—murmuring quiet sorry, baby’s while kissing your stupid face, as she usually called it, curling her fingers around the collar of your sweater before making you lose it. that’s when she’d let herself be soft, let her nails drag gently along your jaw, let her voice drop into something warm, something just for you. she’d kiss you slow, teasing, until your head spun, until your hands trembled where they held onto her waist.

and then, just when you thought she might actually mean it—just when you thought maybe she felt something real—she’d pull away with that knowing smirk, dragging her thumb across your kiss-dazed lips harshly before fixing her cardigan like nothing happened.

you understood, though.

she was hurt after puckerman, obviously. she needed control back in her life. she needed this—you—on her terms. not because she liked having you as a pet.

that’s what you told yourself, anyway.

today, she’s late. your fingers nervously drum on the random seat you chose in the big auditorium. glancing at your cellphone for the third time, your leg bounces up and down but you hate skipping class. even though she was the reason why you did it, your mind was stressed, thinking about the missing lessons just for quinn.

of course it had its perks, though. depending on your luck, sometimes she was nice, running her fingers through your hair the way you liked, teasing you about your sweater choices, calling you cute in that whispery voice that made your brain short-circuit.

other times, she was mean. distant. late on purpose, like she wanted to see how long you’d wait before you gave up.

this seems to be the case today as she flings the door open, storming towards you with that look on her face that pretty much terrifies you. she stops in front of you, and you barely have time to open your mouth before— “what the hell is wrong with you?”

you blink. “i—what?”

she exhales sharply, rolling her eyes, like you’re exhausting her. like she doesn’t have you completely lost, going through your folder of memories to figure out what you did wrong.

“you know what, nerd.”

except you don’t.

quinn sighs, tilting her head back like she’s trying to rein herself in, and when she looks at you again, her eyes are sharp, expectant. “why were you looking at me in class?”

your lips part in realization. that’s what this was about? the stupid rules? “i wasn’t trying to—”

her eyes narrow. “so you admit it.”

shit.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do that again.” you swallow, voice quieter now. “i just liked the way you did your hair today.” you point with your index finger, suddenly hyperaware of how warm your face feels. “with the yellow— the little flower.”

“stupid. they could’ve found out.”

she always said that. you still didn’t understand how could a person connect so many dots by just one look. the no-talking- in-the-halls rule was understandable, but not being able to look at her?

you don’t say a thing about your thoughts, though. you know better.

“i’m really sorry, q.” you tug on her hand, pulling her closer to you until she’s standing between your legs.

you stare up at her, squeezing her hand when she doesn’t say anything after a beat—two beats, trying to get her to talk to you. it’s nonsense. you know it. she knows it, but that doesn’t stop her from remaining silent for another moment, just so she can look down at you some more, to make you impatient.

and you do. but then, just as you’re about to apologize again, quinn huffs, shaking her head. “idiot.”

before you can react, she’s on you. it’s sudden, the way she slants her mouth over yours, her hands gripping the back of your neck to pull you into her. you barely have time to adjust to the heat of her lips before she’s straddling you, sliding into your lap with ease, her body pressing against yours, drawing out of your throat the tiniest, most embarrassing sound against her lips while your fingers curl around her hips instinctively.

your glasses fog up from the rush of your breaths, but she’s quick enough to pull them on top of your head effortlessly the second they start getting in the way without breaking the kiss. her hands cradle your face, fingers threading into your hair as she deepens it.

[trueebeauty]

It's a crisp autumn evening when you and Todoroki arrive at your house. Your parents are off on another business trip, leaving you with an empty house and a whole week of freedom. Or, in this case, a whole week with your boyfriend, Shoto.

As you're showing him around, you notice he seems distracted. "Everything okay, Shoto?" you ask.

He blinks, dual-colored eyes focusing on you. "Yes. Just... thinking."

You smile. Todoroki and his deep thoughts. It's one of the many things you love about him. "Well, make yourself at home. I'm going to grab a shower."

As the bathroom door closes behind you, Todoroki sits on your bed, mind whirling. Last week, during one of his rare moments of procrastination, he stumbled upon an article about the benefits of cuddling. Increased oxytocin, lower stress levels, better sleep. He wants that for you. For both of you.

But how to initiate? Todoroki, for all his battle prowess, feels out of his depth with this kind of intimacy. His eyes wander around your room, landing on the heater. An idea forms.

He approaches it, hand out. A touch of his right side, and frost creeps over the heater. It sputters, then dies. Todoroki nods, satisfied. Now he just needs to wait.

Twenty minutes later, you emerge from the shower in your softest pajamas. You're toweling your hair when you notice. "Is it cold in here, or is it just me?"

Todoroki looks up, and his breath catches. You're shivering slightly, skin pebbled with goosebumps. He didn't realize how cold it would get so quickly. Guilt gnaws at him, but he pushes it down. This is for a good cause, right?

"The heater must be broken," he says, aiming for nonchalance. "We should... conserve body heat."

You blink, then a slow smile spreads. "Shoto Todoroki, are you asking me to cuddle?"

He blushes, the red stark against his white hair. "It's... practical."

"Sure," you tease, but you're already climbing into bed, snuggling up to him. He's warm, always warm, and you sigh contentedly.

Todoroki feels a rush of... something. Happiness? Pride? All he knows is that he likes having you close. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer.

But as minutes tick by, the room gets colder. And colder. Todoroki's left side is like ice, and you start to shiver violently.

"S-Shoto," you chatter, "I t-think something's really w-wrong with the h-heater."

Panic rises in his throat. This isn't what he wanted. You're freezing, possibly getting sick, because of him. Some boyfriend he is.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. "I... I broke it. I wanted to cuddle, but I didn't think—"

"Y-you broke it?" you interrupt, teeth still chattering. "On p-purpose?"

He nods miserably. But then, to his surprise, you laugh. It's a shaky sound, but genuine.

"You're adorable," you say, nuzzling into him despite the cold. "But also an idiot. You could've just asked."

Todoroki feels warmth that has nothing to do with his quirk. "I'll fix it," he promises.

"Later," you say. Then, with a mischievous grin, you flip your legs over him, straddling his waist to reach his other side. The side that's all warmth.

"Better?" he asks, watching you snuggle into his right.

"Much," you sigh, the shivers already subsiding. "But next time you want cuddles, just ask. Okay?"

"Okay," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

In the soft glow of your bedside lamp, with you tucked safely against his warm side, Todoroki thinks he finally understands what that article meant. Cuddling isn't just about body heat. It's about this: the trust in your sleepy mumbles, the forgiveness in your laughter, the love in the way you fit against him.

He may have broken the heater, but Todoroki thinks this warmth, this closeness, was worth it.