#and he'd be brought down by his mom showing up all like

[anyroads]

I'm thinking about that post I saw recently that was about a guy who adopted a stray dog and had all these puppies he couldn't take care of and then OP's mom finally stepped in and helped get their adoptions sorted out and the point was that you can't just think "someone will take care of it" because you are also someone. It's been really cold here this week (freezing temperatures) and last night on my way home I saw a man lying on the sidewalk and everyone just... walked past him. Walked right past him. Most of them avoided looking at him. So I stopped and asked him if he was OK and it seemed like he was probably just really drunk and passing out but it was so cold he was going to be lucky to get away with hypothermia and frostbite and not actually freeze to death. (I also had no way of knowing whether he'd had a seizure or a cardiac episode etc. because he wasn't speaking clearly or coherently.) So I called an ambulance and as I was on the phone and waiting next to this man, people began to stop and try to help. At one point someone walked past and stopped to tell us they'd called an ambulance half an hour earlier. Once there were a few of us standing there and there was someone people could ask "what's going on?" from, one of the people who stopped to do so ran to the gym down the street and got a towel which we put under his head as a pillow as per the ambulance service's recommendation.

I waited as long as I could, laid my thick wide flannel scarf over him like a blanket for lack of anything better, and then left him with another person who had stopped (and was a social worker who had worked with people on the streets), went home which was around the corner, and came back with the spouse and a blanket. When we got back to the man's side there were three other people there also calling an ambulance because as it turned out, the social worker had entrusted someone else to stay with the passed out man when they had to go, and that person had entrusted one of the people now standing there, so in all that time someone had always been there with him. So now three people had called an ambulance, half an hour apart each, and the ETA was 1hr20min for an ambulance so we were expecting one to arrive soon. One of the people who was there lived in the building next to us so they ran upstairs to get more blankets and a hot water bottle. While they did, someone else showed up out of nowhere who had walked past a few minutes earlier and brought a blanket from home. When the ambulance finally showed up another person came running up and said they worked down the street and had called an ambulance TWO HOURS earlier and they were so glad it finally arrived.

And look, I could go off about the disaster the NHS currently is that it takes 2 hours for an ambulance to arrive for a case marked as high priority (which it was, as confirmed to me by the ambulance service). But my point here is this:

Two people had called for an ambulance in the hour before I did. That means this man was lying on the sidewalk for an hour in the freezing cold as most people kept walking past him, except for the few who called an ambulance and then left. And I don't expect anyone to be able to stay and wait for as long as it takes an ambulance to arrive when there's such a delay. But it's important that it was only when someone stopped and stood with him that others stopped too. Because like the OP of that other post said, most people don't realize they can be the someone who does something. But when they see another person be the someone, they feel more confident. It's reassuring knowing there's someone in charge who knows what to do and will tell you what to do and how to do it. And tbh I didn't know what to do. But I knew that emergency services would tell me. And I noticed immediately that as soon as I stood there with this man and became part of his situation, others started to do the same. Which is why I asked that social worker to stay with him and then pass the torch so someone was always with him.

And that's exactly my point: it's ok if you can't be the "someone" all by yourself but you can ask others to help too, and for them to do the same. By the time I came back with the spouse and the blanket, two more rounds of people had cycled through, but where most people walked past this man when I first saw him even though he'd been lying there for an hour, now there was a group of people around him even though its members kept changing - but because there was always someone there, someone else kept stopping and staying too. Where he was vulnerable and freezing when I first saw him, he now had almost half a dozen blankets over him and a hot water bottle. I honestly can't get over the thought that for a whole hour he was just lying there as he was, but as soon as people felt OK getting involved he was covered in multiple blankets.

Because most people need someone else to take the first step before they also do something. The person who brought down the hot water bottle asked me first whether or not they should. And for what it's worth, my answer was an enthusiastic "that's a great idea!" even though in my head I was thinking, "yeah no shit, how is that a question?" Because people are often uncertain or worry that their good intentions might backfire and they get wobbly in emergency situations or even just unfamiliar ones. And part of me wonders how much of the horrific online culture of dogpiling and assuming bad faith has conditioned people to worry, in real life situations, that their good intentions and attempts to help someone else will end up landing them in trouble. So even though in my head I was thinking that the question was crazy and this person should just DO the helpful thing, what came out of my mouth was encouragement and reassurance. Because that's what's actually helpful.

So this is just to say that after last night I've been thinking about that post about how anyone can be "someone" even you. Because it's not just about getting a job done - as soon as a person steps up to be the someone who does something about a situation, others follow much more easily. No one knew that at least two people had called an ambulance when this man had already been lying on the sidewalk for an hour in the freezing cold. But as soon as people got visibly involved, and stayed with him instead of walking away after calling the ambulance, more people did the same. As soon as one person covered him with a scarf and put a towel under his head, people started running to their homes around the corner to get him blankets. So the lesson of being "someone" is that it also helps other people be someone too.

[nightingale-prompts]

Comforting Your Batboy

First | Previous | Next

Danny slept next to Dick for a few days after what happened. He no longer felt secure about his place here. No matter where you go you take yourself with you and Danny is the problem here yet again.

Danny didn't understand affection, at least not the kind that a parent gave. The moment Danny told Dick that his parents were scientists Richard understood. Gotham had seen dozens of scientists who pushed the boundaries of morality and there was no shortage of children used to fulfill their ambitions.

Danny still missed his parents. Regardless of how things ended, he had lived his entire life with a family unit that on paper meant life was stable. He had somewhere to go and people who at least acknowledged him as family. Parents that took care of him at least out of obligation.

This story sounded familiar. Like Jason who never stopped loving his mom despite everything or Tim who accepted his neglect as what it was. They didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved them like they should. Dick was lucky to have the parent he had.

Danny remembered quiet dinners as his parents rushed to finish the food that Jazz made or them going on long tirades about their research. For 12 years they devotedly worked on that portal. Every chance they got they'd run off to the basement. Because it was their life's work, the only thing that mattered.

When it was unveiled, Jazz only scoffed. She hated the portal. Dad looked to Danny for praise and Danny didn't know what to say.

"Isn't it just the greatest thing you've ever seen?" Dad put his hand around Danny's shoulder.

"Well...its definitely a thing." Danny laughed awkwardly.

Danny had hoped that when the portal finished it would mean he'd spend time with his parents. Maybe they'd give him more than a passing glance when he brought them his report card. He could share with them his dreams and plans to be an astronaut. Show them the stars and all his research. To prove to them that he was a scientist too.

But that didn't happen. None of that would ever happen.

Jazz warned him not to hope for too much.

"People don't change Danny." She said simply.

Danny still tried. He still hoped. That hope made him try.

That hope killed him.

Danny never told Dick the specifics, about the accident. Dick never pried, but he knew something wasn't right.

Danny would cry in his sleep some nights. Dreams of a life that was far away now. Dick couldn't do much, all he could do was hold Danny's hand and wait for the nightmare to pass in hopes that Danny would forget his dream when he opened his eyes.

Danny's body was scarred. Something he used his powers to cover but they were still there and appeared when the stress got too much. Dick only saw a small part of them.

Dick got a full view once of Danny's back once when Dick left him a change of clothes. Lichtenberg scars like feathered ferns ripped through Danny's left arm and back. Danny hated it when people saw his scars and the marks disappeared the moment he realized he was being watched.

Dick didn't mention it. Not even the faint green glow the marks gave off.

"Why does Batman hate me?" Danny asked peeking out from under his blanket. He was still shrunk down

Dick bundled the toddler up in the blanket.

"He doesn't hate you. He just...he doesn't like things he doesn't understand." Dick tried to not make that sound awful.

"He doesn't understand me." Danny sighed.

"And he doesn't have to. He won't do anything to you. Not with me around. I promise. I know you've been hurt before and you must have felt alone but you got me." Dick ruffled his little fuzzball's hair.

(Ignore small errors. Have bat picture.)

[skyahri]

How They Found Out |Naruto Boys X Reader| HC

Part Two Masterlist Ko-fi

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Kakashi Hatake

Summary: How your relationship ended up being revealed.

Warnings: Naruto's is short af because he's an open book. Deal with it. NSFW themes. Mentions of sex and being caught.

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

You'd been together for about a year at this point. In the beginning, you'd agreed to keep it hush-hush until you'd figured things out.

Before you knew it, it'd been more than six months since your first date, and it was still secret. You enjoyed the privacy of it, but didn't enjoy hiding things from your friends.

So you decided to stop actively keeping it a secret and instead allow things to come out naturally.

But that was six months ago and still no one knew.

Sasuke hated PDA and no one had asked either of you about relationship stuff, so it was still quiet.

That is until today.

You two were victims of Narutos' lack of boundaries and awareness.

It was late at night, about 11pm, you were in Sasuke's apartment.

He was drilling into you, his hands holding down your legs and mouth connected to your neck.

You were too busy enjoying the all encompassing feeling of him fucking you, and he was too busy ravaging you to hear Naruto enter the front door.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open. Narutos face very quickly goes from his usual happy-go-lucky to a horrified, dramatic look.

Sasuke is quick to cover you with the sheets before he yells at Naruto to get the Hell out.

Naruto is already way ahead of him, bolting straight out the front door and to God knows where.

After that, it wasn't long before the whole village knew. Honestly, once Gai found out, there was no one who didn't know.

Naruto Uzumaki

Find out? Ha! There is no finding out because he immediately told anyone and everyone the second you agreed to a date.

If he did somehow manage to keep it quiet, it really wouldn't be long until it got out.

Hes just so... excited to be with you.

He likes showing you off like a prize. He likes going on dates and holding your hand and loudly proclaiming that you're his.

You don't mind, of course.

Shikamaru Nara

You two lay around together most days. A while back, you shared a kiss, and it very VERY slowly escalated from there.

It was almost six months before you actually had sex.

Mostly because he'd somehow rationalized kissing was "just something you guys did" and didn't require any extra thought.

The sex was amazing. Slow and passionate, just like you'd expect from the lazy Nara.

And so things continued on like that. A relationship had formed, but it was never something either of you talked about.

You liked his parents and they liked you. You'd help his mom with dinner some nights and played Shogi with Shikaku. They didn't question your relationship either.

Things stayed on the down low for almost eighteen months before someone finally brought up something regarding his romantic life.

"So, Shikamaru, who was your first kiss?" Choji asked one night in the bath house.

The question caught him off guard since he wasn't usually included in these types of conversations. (They mostly assumed he wasn't interested in women, or something like that.)

"Hm? Oh, Y/N."

Cue the silence. Then total chaos.

"What?? When was this?" Kiba asked.

"I don't know... sometime around the solstice last year."

That sparked a lot of questions from his friends, only some of which he'd answered.

The guys relayed all the information to the girls the next day, where they then went and hounded you for answers.

Despite all of your friends knowing about your relationship, nothing changed between you and Shikamaru.

You just stayed... whatever it is you were.

Kakashi Hatake

Gai, Kurenai, and Iruka all had their suspicions about you two but had nothing to back it up. It's been years at this point, yet they still come up empty-handed.

That is, until Kakashi’s students decided they were interested in his love life, and began to poke around.

It's after the war; Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke are fully grown adults, but something is just so tempting about reverting to their youthful days of trying to spy on their sensei.

Kakashi is all for it, partially because he's glad his students are getting along again, and partially because he's grown tired of keeping secrets.

This is something he discusses with you, and as he predicted, you're completely on board.

You gradually make yourself seen with Kakashi over the next week- leaving the Hokage tower with him, getting dinner with him, and even allowing him to walk you to his apartment.

The kids watch all of this happen, but there's no evidence that actually proves anything, just like Gai sensei had told them in the beginning.

So they continue to stalk you two around the village. They're better at it than when they were little, but it's still pretty easy to spot them.

At the end of the week, when you're sure all three of them are watching, Kakashi kisses you in front of your front door.

You watch as they all zip away, surely off to meet up or possibly report back to your friends.

You and Kakashi can only laugh.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Post!prision!Reid seeing his daughter for the first time after he gets out 🥹 he gets so emotional because he can finally hold his baby again!

OMG OMG OMG!!!! can you imagine how teary he'd be!! post!prison dad!spencer x mom!reader, I hope you enjoy <3

You wish you could’ve been with the team at the prison, see him come out there in person, but you’re still on bedrest with your baby girl. Georgia is only a couple weeks old, but she’s so much Spencer’s twin- the same unruly curls, the same nose and the same want of you. 

You’d written all about her in your letters to Spencer, describing every feature he’s going to see today in so much detail you were sure he would see her clearly in his mind. 

“Honey?” He doesn’t shout lest he wake his daughter as he walks in, his fingers twitching with the need to see both of you. 

“I’m on the sofa baby,” it’s almost as if he was never gone. You lean over the sofa to see him pass through the kitchen, his hands holding a small bag. “I’m sorry I can’t stand to kiss you, Spence.” 

He tuts, leaning down over you, “Nonsense, how’re you feeling?” His eyes flit over to the cot beside you, roving over your daughter before settling back on you. 

“Like I missed you longer than you’ve been gone.” You’re waterlogged immediately and Spencer rounds the sofa to pull you into him. 

“I missed you too,” his lips press into your temple, “God I missed you both so much.” Tears wet your hairline but you can’t seem to care, Spencer’s home and he’s able to see your baby girl together. What more could you want?

“I brought you some snacks, I figured you hadn’t been able to get any of your cravings.” He says gently, opening a bag to show you all the chocolate malt balls, the yoghurt raisins and the nuts you’d just run out of. “I got something for Georgia too.” 

“Spence,” you gasp when you see the orange stuffed octopus that he pulls out, it’s just as big as Georgia is now. He wipes the tears that fall on your cheeks, kissing your nose before opening the tub of nuts for you. “Seventh smartest animal in the world.” you recall softly. 

“Can I hold her?” He asks finally and you nod, watching him stand and hover over the bassinet. 

“Just scoop her up Spence, she’s going to be so happy you’re home.” 

Spencer doesn’t say a word, practically holding his breath as he does as you say- scooping Georgia up in record time and holding her close to his chest. There’s a moment right after she wriggles a bit when she settles and Spencer feels an ungodly wave of emotion crash into him.

Of course, he’d read that men only feel like fathers the moment they hold their babies, and everyone had told him (everyone being Derek and JJ) that you can’t control the way your heart kind of cracks open to make room for this new love, but he still hadn’t expected it to be so immediate and visceral. 

“Hi Georgia,” he whispers, his tears rolling down the bridge of his nose as he strokes her cheek. “Hi sweet girl.” You’re enamoured already, looking at Spencer holding your daughter like she’s made of fine China. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were born, baby. But I promise I’m not missing anything else where you’re concerned.” 

Tears pool in your eyes as your daughter wakes up, no crying or wailing, just small coos and gurgles as she looks at Spencer. 

“It’s your daddy, Georgia.” You murmur, sniffling and wiping your eyes as Spencer hiccups as she reaches for his face, her little fist bumping into his jaw.

Her almond eyes stare up at him, blinking all slow as she takes him in. Then she smiles, as if she's put a face to the man who spoke to her every night, telling her all the facts he'd read and learnt about babies, animals and whatever soothing topic he could find to tell her while she lived in your belly.

“Your mom lied to me, you look just like her.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as Spencer gives you a little glare. “Those eyes are all her, Peach. Maybe you won’t get your daddy’s brain either- it’s no fun being smart and getting beat up.” You throw a cashew at Spencer then, making him chuckle and come sit beside you. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You whisper, stroking Georgia’s cheek as you press yours into Spencer’s bicep. 

“I’m happy to be back, angel.” his eyes remain transfixed to Georgia all day, holding her and touching her foot when he can’t because you have to feed her. Spencer thinks to himself that he’d live through prison a thousand times over if every time he gets out, he can come back to this moment, to the peace and serenity in your home with you and your little girl and the life you’d made together colouring every wall of the house.

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle a.d.

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader prompt: Imagine being that parent who always brings baked goods to the PTA meetings and generally getting along with everyone really well. But for some reason Art Donaldson says something that rubs you the wrong way one night. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, adults acting like horny teenagers, flashbacks, not proofread word count: 2.4K a/n: I wrote this in one sitting just from seeing this post 🤭

part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

He notices he’s offended you by the way you stop talking directly to him, looking everywhere but him. Smiling at everyone but him. You’re giving your undivided attention to anyone who speaks but when he opens his mouth you seem much more interested in your nails.

Art has known you since he's been coming to these meetings. He knows that you offer a polite smile to everyone, but he'd grown used to the small smiles you'd give him. The secret grins and the sarcastic eye rolls you shared with him when Nancy got a bit too controlling or when Dan overshared about his marriage.

You would playfully nudge his elbow when Cynthia inevitably brought up her small knitting business. You’d been initially interested, always loving a good sweater, until you found out the only things she knit were small replicas of pets.

You would discreetly play tic tac toe or hangman on a napkin while the more aggressive moms argued about where to host the next school event, or when the guest speaker for the night would drone on and on.

Once, you baked snickerdoodle cookies and Art ate three of them in one sitting, then asked to take some home for “Lily.” So, you made sure to bake snickerdoodle cookies almost every time you brought snacks. Everyone knew the circular red tin you’d bring was Art’s.

The two of you didn’t really talk outside of the PTA, but Art considered you his friend at these things.

Which is why he should've known not to bring up your recently divorced ex-husband during the meeting. He’d simply been trying to make sure the headcount for this year’s Fall Fest committee was right after Nancy had thrusted the clipboard into his hands. He was tasked with making sure everyone on the list was still showing up. When Art asked you if your husband would still be attending, you went silent, your lips tensing up like you’d tasted something sour.

“Are you really asking me that right now?”

Art stammered. “I just wasn’t sure…”

You scoffed at him disbelieving.

“Well when he finally gets his head out of that whore’s ass then maybe he’ll be able to let you know.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Before he hands the clipboard back, he makes sure to draw a line through your ex-husband’s name.

Art tries to apologize after the meeting is over. Insisting on walking you to your car and carrying your dessert containers back for you. His self deprecating little smile makes you roll your eyes, but you turn for him to follow you anyway. You silently lead the way to your car keeping a couple steps ahead of him. Despite his attempts to look away, Art’s eyes stay glued to the sway of your hips the whole way.

Once you pop the trunk and gesture for him to place the containers down, you finally look him in the eyes for the first time since he’d pissed you off. Art shoves his hands in his pockets, telling you he’s really sorry for what he said. That he wasn’t thinking. He wants to make it up to you.

You purse your lips, look at the way his eyes seem hopeful yet a little too pleading for an offense so small. You tilt your head to the side, taking in his features before eventually telling him that “it’s fine,” and that you forgive him. He seems to visibly relax at this and you can’t help wondering why he would be so hung up on your forgiveness. After all, it was really an overreaction on your part.

You tell him as much and reassure him that you don’t need anything, he doesn’t need to make it up to you. He grabs your hand then, insisting that he wants to.

Art has always been this way, you think, all placating and overly apologetic when he thinks he’s done something wrong. You’d chalked it up to the media training you know he must’ve received. Being agreeable probably made his PR manager’s job ten times easier. Not that you didn’t believe he was genuinely a kind person, but you knew even Art might be overcompensating every now and then.

You’d seen the way he could be snarky without remorse before. The two of you would basically laugh about it later. You’d also seen how he never hid the way his eyes would linger on your cleavage. The way he’d give you a small, bashful smile when you’d catch him, his smirk only growing wider the more you blushed.

Art Donaldson could be sneaky.

ᯓ

He’d never been ashamed about being touchy with you. Placing a warm hand on your arm or back when greeting one another, letting his fingers skim your hand on the table next to his while he listened to speakers. The touching seemed innocent enough until one night when he’d walked you to your car after the two of you had stayed longer. You had been distracted during the meeting.

Art stayed and listened as you told him about your husband and how he’d come home late after you planned a romantic evening for the two of you the night before. You made sure your son was at your parents’ house, made his favorite meal, and lit candles around the house. The two of you had decided to schedule date nights per your therapist’s suggestion. When 1 am rolled around, and your husband had returned none of your calls, you scraped the food into tupperware containers and got ready for bed. He came home with apologies and excuses about getting caught up in the office. He had already eaten, and he smelled of a perfume you didn’t own but had grown to recognize.

That night, you told Art that you were sure your husband was cheating on you. He told you that he understood how you felt. You didn’t believe him. Tashi was perfect.

After your tears had dried, and Art managed to pull a few laughs out of you, the both of you decided it was time to call it a night. You moved to give Art a casual hug, but he wrapped his arms around you so tightly that you couldn’t help but melt into it, burying your face in his chest. You remembered him smelling warm, like amber.

Art had rubbed your back as he held you, whispered that he was sorry that your husband was a dumbass. You huffed out a laugh, pulling away to look at him. He’d brought his hand up to your cheek, his other hand on the small of your back. You smiled at him through your eyelashes before letting your head drop down with a sigh.

Your cheeks burned as you took in how your legs were tangled with his. Art had tilted his head to get a better look at you again, but you’d stuck to hiding your face against his chest.

He huffed and let his chin fall to your shoulder. You still refused to look his way, turning to watch some trees. You felt both his hands on your back now.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered.

“That we said we should go home like 5 min ago.” His hands traveled lower. “You?” You asked shakily. You could feel his breath warm against your neck.

“That I might not be any better than your husband.”

Your eyes widened. Art’s palms firmly cupped your ass. In contrast, his lips were pressed gently to the skin of your neck.

“Art!” Your hands flew to his hair.

He laughed into your neck.

You slapped his arm, but when his eyes met yours and his lips were mere inches away from yours, you let your eyes flutter shut.

His breath fanned your lips. He smelled like snickerdoodle cookie.

Then, his phone rang.

Art had pulled away from you, turning around to answer the call. You could tell it was Tashi. He’d been honest, telling her that he’d stayed late talking to you. At the mention of your name, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Tashi says hi.”

ᯓ

The two of you never brought up the almost kiss again, but you knew Art hadn’t been sorry. The next time he saw your husband, he’d smirked and told him how lucky he was to have such a great wife. Your husband, ever the narcissist, soaked it all in, pulling you in by the waist, showing you off like a shiny toy. When he turned away, Art had winked at you.

ᯓ

So, you know that Art is either laying it on thick or feels extremely remorseful about reminding you of your cheating ex-husband.

When he grabs your hand, insisting on finding some way to make it up to you, you see a look of desperation in his eyes that looks new.

Your eyes drop to where his large hand covers your own, then they travel up his toned arm until you find his face, flitting between his eyes and his lips. And for some reason, you’re leaning in. Maybe it’s your way of reassuring him that you guys are good. Either way, he’s not moving back. You’re gripping his forearm with your free hand and suddenly your lips are on his.

You’re not sure if it was his tongue or yours that first went seeking out the other, but now you two are sharing sloppy kisses on the empty school parking lot.

When his left palm presses into your cheek and you feel that cold metal band sting your skin, you pull away with a gasp, remembering where you are, who he is, and that he has a damn wedding ring on. This is Art. PTA Art. You know his wife, for god’s sake. You’ve hosted play dates between their daughter and your son. You carpool with them. You curse and back away from him.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have...”

Art shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He’s looking at you with those damn eyes again. Like he’ll break if you say the wrong thing.

“I—we, we shouldn’t have done that, Art.”

He shakes his head again. Your palm comes up to hold him back, but it doesn’t work as he simply grabs ahold of the hand on his chest and presses himself against you more. His forehead comes down to lean on yours. His eyes closed.

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. “I want you.”

“But you’re married Art…”

“I want you.” He repeats. “I’ve wanted you…for awhile now.”

And though you already know this, it still shocks you that he’s actually saying it now. Before you have time to register it, he’s back on you and you don’t know if it’s because you’re afraid to break him or if you’ve just always been this selfish, but you let him press you against the trunk of your car. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, let his big hands knead the flesh of your hips and ass. Let him lick and nip at your neck, nibble on your earlobe.

You let Art push you into the backseat of your car. You let him settle between your legs, guiding his lips to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He’s pressing his hips into yours rocking against you as he pushes your top up. Art’s hands frantically work at your bra, impatiently bending the wire in the process of taking it off. You gasp at his eagerness but can’t say anything as he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple making you arch your back up off the leather seats. His hands are gripping your thighs and shoving your skirt up when he releases your nipple with a pop.

He’s up long enough to tear his shirt off and for your equally impatient hands to reach for his pants. His shorts are barely past his balls before he’s back on you. Kissing all over your lips, jaw, neck. Art groans when his fingers find their way to your soaked underwear, rubbing his thumb from your slit to your clit through the fabric. You whine and rock your hips into each movement. You pant into his open mouth as he pulls them to the side, letting the air hit your bare cunt. He dips his thumb into your entrance then drags it up to sloppily circle your clit.

You’re moaning loudly into his mouth, begging him for more. Art smiles against your lips as he takes himself in his hand. He lets his head sweetly kiss your sticky clit, and he asks if you want him to put it in.

You nod eagerly.

"Yeah?" He grunts, tapping his head against you in a taunting manner.

You nod again and let him press against your opening.

Art covers your mouth with his when he finally pushes into you, stifling both of your moans. He gets his arms around your waist, holding you as he rocks into your pussy. You’re whimpering and squeezing around him like you haven’t had dick in years, and Art thinks he might pass out when you start bucking up into him and begging him to fuck you.

He doesn’t even care that he won’t last long. He can’t deny you. So, he wraps your thighs tighter around his waist and pushes himself forward. Your mouth falls open as Art slides out and pushes back into you with a grunt. Your hands are in his hair, pulling at the short strands. You mouth at his jaw as his thighs slap against you.

Art buries his head into your neck as he frantically fucks into your tight hole, and he’s whining that he’s close. His fingers that have been playing with your clit are slippery with your juices and you clench your thighs, nodding with him in agreement.

You end up letting Art Donaldson cum inside you. You let him rub your clit until you orgasm around his dick that’s still buried in you.

You let him help you redress. He’d winced when he saw the mess he made of you between your legs. You ignore the way you can tell he wants to say sorry.

Once you’re both dressed and you’re standing against your car with wobbly legs, Art tells you that he still wants to make it up to you.

You roll your eyes.

“Good night, Art.” You get into the driver’s seat.

“I’m serious.”

Your hand hesitates on the door handle. You look back at him and his pleading eyes and his pathetic yet charming smile.

“Your wife has my number.”

And then, you shut the door.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: reader reminds me of Anna Kendrick’s character in A Simple Favor, sweet but also kinda toxic

thanks for inspiring this @artdcnaldson <3

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve

[awearywritersworld]

the three times gojo thinks he might be in love and the time he knows for sure

gojo satoru x reader summary: title says it all w/c: 1k tags/warnings: ft baby megumi. fluff, then some more fluff. gumi refers to reader as mom. one curse word. brief reference to canon typical violence. a/n: i am ridiculously soft for this man. he needs a hug masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

the first time it happens, it's the dead of winter and you're both still teenagers. it's the year before the star plasma vessel mission, when everything in gojo's life feels like it's falling into place. he has friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.

you drag him, kicking and screaming (it's all for show, he'd go anywhere with you), out to a snow covered field. you innocently beg him to turn off limitless, and of course he acquiesces, only to be pelted in the face with a snowball.

he throws himself into the snow upon impact, arms flailing dramatically. "i'm dead! you've killed me!"

you join him on the ground, arms out stretched and nudging the fabric of his coat. "hm, then i guess i'll have to drink all the hot chocolate by myself-"

"i have returned to the living realm!!" he shouts, shooting up into a sitting position. "had to fight god for it, told 'im i couldn't bear to leave my (y/n)-chan!"

"oh, you are so full of shit," you accuse with an amused smile.

you gaze at one another as the snow falls around you silently, both somehow feeling warm despite the frigidness of the air. his glasses have slipped down his nose, giving you a glimpse at his eyes. you're thinking about how the flakes blend in with his lashes before melting away entirely. he's thinking that he might be in love with you.

~~~

some time passes before the second instance, which takes place in the spring. gojo makes his way around campus, looking for wherever you and megumi ran off to. the small boy has been attached to your hip ever since gojo brought him home two years ago.

when he finds you, you're both splayed out in the grass and pointing up at the clouds.

"that one looks like a dog!" megumi exclaims excitedly.

"and that one looks like it might be his ball, don't you think?" you question. he agrees wholeheartedly with an enthusiastic nod.

after awhile, megumi sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "can we go inside now, mom?"

there's a split second he doesn't realize what he's said, but when it dawns on him, he looks down right scared. "'m sorry!"

your features soften and your heart soars before you're gathering him up in your arms.

"oh, my sweet boy," you coo.

rocking him back and forth, you hold him for a few passing moments. he hides his face in your chest, his hands gripping onto your shirt as if it's his life line.

you pull away just enough to see his face. you'd do anything to stop the tears swimming in his eyes, just like any mother would. "you can call me whatever you like 'gumi."

"p-promise?"

"yup!" you assure, bopping his nose with your pointer finger. it earns a small giggle.

gojo watches as you rise from the ground, megumi's head now resting on your shoulder and his arms around your neck. you're humming as you walk back toward the buildings.

gojo's legs are like lead and his heart feels as if it's shifted up into his throat. for the first time, he thinks about getting married, about having a family. your face is at the forefront of every image that forces itself into his mind.

~~~

the third time happens in the dead of night. megumi is asleep and the two of you decide to watch a movie, but you're yawning before he even presses play.

you sit so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiate from his body and although you fight to keep your eyes open, you can't help but be lulled to sleep.

he tenses for a moment when your head lands squarely on his shoulder. it seems as if you're both frozen, but then you let out a soft snore as your body shifts and your hand moves to his stomach. he finally relaxes.

your hair had fallen across your face and he pushes it back behind your ear so that he can see you. he tries to ignore the urge to brush his fingers across your cheekbone, or over your bottom lip. he fails.

gojo remains still for hours, and it feels strange to the usually hyperactive man, but he's terrified of disturbing you. terrified that you'll pull away from him and he'll never get to feel like this again.

he lets that stupid movie play through twice, but he spends most of the time stealing glances at you. he does eventually turn the tv off and the only sounds that remain are the trill of summer crickets outside his window and your soft, slow breaths.

he has no idea what time it is when he falls asleep, but when he finally does, he dreams about that day in the snow.

~~~

leaves fall at your feet as the two of you make your way down the sidewalk. every now and then, your fingers brush against his and it makes his heart skip a beat. he wonders (hopes?) if anyone has mistaken you for a couple.

you come across a familiar mansion, one that the two of you exorcised together as teenagers. it feels like a lifetime ago. you stop at the gate, a bronze glint on the ground catching your eye.

crouching down, you brush away shades of orange and red to reveal a memorial for all the people who had died on the once cursed property.

"for the lives that were taken here, and for the lost soul who took them... may they rest now in the afterlife."

gojo scrunches his nose, about to make some comment about how pitiful it was to commemorate a cursed spirit, but the words die in his throat when you look up at him with watery eyes.

"this is so beautiful," you remark, turning back to the engraved words.

he shoves his hands in his pockets, peering down to read over the words once more. maybe he'd missed something?

"this community was so fearful, remember? people lost friends and family here." he nods even though you aren't looking at him, watching how your fingertips move across the words as if you're considering them further. "the spirit scared them and it stole from them, but they still regard it with sympathy and kindness.. it takes strength to do that, you know?"

he feels his chest tighten as he registers your words. for a fleeting instance, he feels like an asshole for ever finding it pitiful, but that was the thing. you have such an easy way about you, a sort of gentleness he had yet to find in anyone else. the time he spends in your company seems like the only respite he ever gets from the horrors of the world.

he hasn't answered you yet, so you look back to him expectantly. "don't you think it's beautiful, 'toru?"

god, he could fall to his knees right then and there. he could roll over and die on the chilly concrete and he'd consider it a privilege to have died by your side.

i love you. i love you. i love you. those are the only three words his brain can muster.

"yeah," he finally chokes out. "it really is."

[bluerosefox]

Our Strengths

"What do we do now? Tucker asked. His voice cracking with stress and worry as he stared at the scene before him not able to look away as his best friend and his family were being dragged out of their home.

Danny cuffed in anti-ghost cuffs and knocked the heck out with a ecto-gun pointed at his skull by one of the GIW agents, they eventually tossed Danny into their van that was parked right outside the Fenton Works. Jazz was pleading, begging them to let her brother go, even though she too was cuffed and not caring that another gun was at her back. Maddie was hissing like angry feral mama cat at the two agents, ignoring the other two that were holding her shoulders to keep her from squirming around and saying "you dare touch a single hair on my babies I will rip-" before she too was lead away to the GIW van. The last to come out was Jack and he looked haunted and stressed, and despite being a huge guy he was trying to make himself look small. He too was sent into the van, and one of the last things Tucker could see before the doors close was Jack kneeling down next to Danny and going to cradle him but being stopped by the GIW agent in the van.

Sam chewed on her lip, her eyes wide and wild as she tried to think of... well anything to save her friend and his family from this.

To think Vlad would be so petty after Danny finally told his parents about being Phantom and them accepting and loving him regardless and even apologizing for trying to hurt him that he would go and tattle to the GIW about Phantom.

Danny hadn't even told them about Vlad being a halfa either. Not even a bit. All Danny told them was that Vlad made him super uncomfortable. About how the guy seemed obsessed with his mom but seemed to be shifting his obsession to him.

And for once Jack listened, especially after Maddie finally told him the times the man flirted with her and had even tried getting her to leave Jack. With only Danny. No mention of Jazz, only Danny.

After that Jack turned papa bear mode.

Say what you will about Jack Fenton but his love for his family outweighs any kind of friendship.

So yeah Vlad finding himself being 'cut out' of the Fenton's lives, realizing the only times he could even get close to Maddie and Danny was because Jack was always welcoming to him, and finding out Jack point blank said he no longer wanted him around his family, he raged and decided to get back at Danny was to go tell the GIW about him being Phantom.

No doubt the creep was going to show up later, 'save' them and start making demands or indebt them to him.

And now here they were. The Fenton's, after being told about Phantom, were being unjustified hauled away by the GIW while all of Amity watches from the streets and despite the protest from, mostly teens, Amity Parkers no one could do anything with both weapons pointed at them or the 'law' decree.

Closing her eyes, Sam took a breath. When she opened them back up she finally looked away as the van and the rest of the GIW began to leave, her hands clutched so tight that her knuckles were turning a deadly white. When she finally released her grip she felt something in her hand.

Confused, Sam opened her hand and gasped as she recognized a familiarish green sticky note and words written in purple ink. She's never read any of the sticky notes CW would send Danny but she has seen them appear out of no where.

She read the note, ignoring Tuckers questioning, and once done she snapped her head to look at him. It was so fast that Tucker jumped for a second. Her eyes were alight with a new found kindle of hope, determination, and a plan.

"Sam? What is it?" Tucker finally asked once more, he had a feeling whatever she had in mind was going to be insane but if it sent by CW and meant to save his best friend he'd do it.

"We play into our strengths and get some help." She said as she brought the sticky note up for him to see.

"Help? From who?" Tucker asked as he took the note and instantly noticed the drawn symbols on the bottom. When he snapped his head back up to look at Sam his mouth fell open and he said in shock, awe, and disbelief "No. No way. Them? But I thought-"

"Gonna stop you right there Tucker. Remember what Dani told us last month? About that new under the radar teen hero group?" Sam cut in.

"OOoooh. Them.... Yeah I can totally get behind asking them over asking the adults." Tucker responded, his mind coming up with a plan as the sticky note words played into his head 'Use your strengths'

"Good we have no time to loose. I'll contact Dani to find out where we can find their base, you get ready to hack and find what you can so I can use it to help... persuade them into helping us."

-x-x-

Young Justice was having a normal, well as normal as a bunch of super-powered and very well trained teens could have day.

Or at least it was until their comms and entire system were hacked by an unknown hacker, a goth girl appearing on their main sceen and her saying this

"Hey, Young Justice right? Look I'll be blunt about this. We need help, our best friend and his family got taken by some shady government jerks that wanna experiment on him and we need to save them. It's a long story. However, we do not like the JL too much and don't trust them, we have our reasons, so to make sure you don't go crying to them, we're taking your systems hostage and blackmailing you with things our hacker found out." Her eyes narrowed at them, her face in a scowl and it left no room for negotiations at all, she was determined to get things her way "So that's the deal. Help us save our best friend and his family while not letting the JL know, and we let go of your systems and forget about what we found out."

[nonranghaes]

it's weird that you don't call out to jun when he comes into your apartment. jun knows that you know he was coming over at some point to spend time with you, and usually you greet him in some way when you hear the apartment door unlock. he's a little earlier than he planned, but you told him to 'come over whenever' and now he's a little worried that you didn't mean it. he quietly slips into the pair of slippers that stays here at your place, and makes his way further into your apartment to set down the bag of groceries he brought on your kitchen counter. your bedroom door is open, but the tiny room you use as a home office is open just a sliver.

he makes his way over, leaning in to listen for a moment... only to hear your voice. there's a little strain to it as you struggle through a sentence, and it clicks all at once: you're speaking chinese. albeit not very well (it's clear to jun that this is one-hundred percent new to you), but you're still trying. your pronunciation is a bit clumsy, but he can hear the way you try to use the right tone with what you're saying...

when did you start learning this much? jun had taught you little things in the past--the absolute basics, really, plus a few other little phrases that veer into his own cheesy need to hear you say sweet things--but this...? he steps back from the door. why hadn't you told him? you could have told him and he'd happily help you learn. but he trusts you: you must have your reasons to keep this a secret, so he won't push. he steps away, deciding to busy himself with getting ingredients put away--or set up for the two of you to cook together, in case you're hungry now.

then he knocks a cup into the sink, and immediately he hears you coming out of your office. relief crosses your face when you see it's just jun, and you lean against the open doorway.

"i didn't know you were here." you pause, and then he sees you get hit with realization. "... how long were you here?"

"i just got here," he says. it's technically the truth, isn't it? he's only been here for a few minutes. "were you working?"

you nod. "yeah. just had to answer a phone call," you lie to him, but he just nods and acts like he doesn't know that. you come up to his side, wrapping an arm around him. "is this for lunch?"

he leans over to you and presses a kiss against your cheek. "are you hungry?"

"mhm," you just snuggle in for a moment, enjoying his presence. "you should teach me more recipes you learned from your mom sometime."

jun finds himself smiling already. was that what this all was...? an attempt for you to understand him better? to show that you care for him so much that you want to know his culture, too? "i'd love to," he says softly, and wraps an arm around you to tug you closer to his side. "only if you teach me things you learned from your family, too."

then he'll make more efforts to understand you and your background, too. just to show you that he loves you as much as you love him.

[velvetures]

Simon is def the type of boyfriend/ husband to adopt a big dog for your anniversary present (even though it's so self serving, he just wants you to have extra protection). He even puts a little bow on the pups collar when he's presenting you with the new edition to the family. (I can see him with a Belgian/ German shepherd, doberman or even a pit mix breed)

Good Boy

Oh my god, there is no way Simon isn't insisting his S/O doesn't have a dog once you've become an established couple.

I think the only difference I have from your HC is that he'd already have the pup trained and nearly at full size when he brings it home for the first time.

Naturally, he's got plenty of experience after having Riley for years. And spent a lot of time sneaking some of your dirty clothes out of the house to put in the dog's kennel while it's being trained. Accustomating it with your scent and connecting your smell with something that isn't used in training unless it's a drill relating your scent to an object needing protection.

Simon isn't particularly attached to the dog emotionally in the way you're going to be. But he's adamant that other than himself, you're the only other person who will know how to command the dog. It's a safety measure that you're going to be a little resistant to at first, but once he explains that it's so you're always safe -even when he's away- you understand that it's for the best. Simon wants a loyal protector for you, and he's not risking you for anything.

In addition to that, Simon really understands and employs "scary dog privilege" tactics often. Even using himself as the warden who follows you around in public and keeps too many eyes from lingering. The dog he brings home is most certainly intimidating, yet impossibly patient and gentle with you. It's designed that way though. Simon trained the pup to think of you as mom essentially, and his only role is to always protect mom.

When he brought your cane corso home, Simon had nothing but pride for the stoic and well-trained guard dog.

The only problem with this is, you're too damn loving for your own good.

Where Simon won't let the dog on the couch, you put your foot down and demand it gets to sleep at the foot of the bed where you can tuck your feet under it to keep warm. He refuses to feed it anything other than its regimental diet, where you love making lick-mats and trialing a bunch of different dog-safe foods almost like your own little cooking show. Simon refuses to pet the dog all the time, but it's almost given he's going to come home and find you curled up with the massive beast on the couch. You -dead asleep- and the guard dog looming over your curled-up form and giving a low, malicious, growl.

Until it realizes Daddy has come home.

Then the big bastard won't leave Simon alone long enough to take his boots off without getting covered in drool and enough hair to make a fur coat.

These are the kinds of pictures you send Simon, utterly destroying his own mental image of the terrifying dog charged with keeping you safe. You're quite amused when he demands you stop making the dog look so pathetic.

[redocity]

Hi!💐 I don’t remember if your request are open or not! (If it’s not then it’s okay <3

I was wondering if I can request a buck X reader maybe a own a dog together maybe the dog loves the reader more then buck and buck is losing it because the buck will do anything to be with the reader 😭but the dog is is like (No that my mom stay away) and it’s kinda like they going to war with each other 😭😭and reader is like ) umm it’s a dog buck)

Thank you!❤️💐

ATTENTION THIEF — E.BUCKLEY

it was buck’s idea to rescue a dog, but it was you it’d gotten attached to. buck wasn’t all to happy with this new ‘arrangement’.

evan buckley x fem!reader | 1.8k | fluff | masterlist.

Buck had never thought he'd be jealous of a dog. Not in a million years. He was Evan Buckley, firefighter extraordinaire, lifesaver, and—he liked to think—irresistible to anyone he set his sights on. But here he was, locked in a silent, brutal war with a four-legged furball over the love of his life—you.

It had started out sweet. The two of you had decided to rescue a dog together, a 7 year old goofy Golden Retriever named Max. You'd always wanted a dog, and Buck thought it would be a fun addition to your life, something the two of you could share.

Except Max had other plans.

At first, Buck didn’t notice. Max seemed friendly enough, licking Buck’s face the day you brought him home and wagging his tail enthusiastically whenever Buck walked into the room. But things quickly changed. Slowly, subtly, Max began staking his claim—on you.

It was small things at first. Max would always sit right by your feet, leaning into you, while Buck got left with empty space. When Buck tried to get some cuddle time on the couch, Max would leap in between, forcing Buck to the side, his big golden head resting contentedly in your lap.

"Aw, Buck, look how cute he is!" you'd coo, scratching Max behind the ears. Buck would try to smile, but inside, he felt a little pang of irritation. Cute? Sure. But there was something territorial in the way Max looked at him, as if saying, Back off, buddy. She's mine.

Still, Buck tried to shake it off. After all, it was just a dog.

But then things escalated.

One morning, Buck had woken up early, hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed. He cooked your favorite, carefully arranging everything on a tray. As he made his way to the bedroom, he imagined your face lighting up with gratitude and love.

But when he got to the top of the stairs, he froze. There you were, still asleep, but you weren’t alone. Max was curled up beside you, his head resting on your stomach, looking perfectly at ease in Buck's spot. Worse, when Buck tiptoed closer, Max cracked open one eye, stared at him, and then let out a low grumble.

"Really?" Buck whispered in disbelief, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Max's grumble only got louder, as if to say, Don’t even think about it.

Buck blinked, looking from Max to you, still peacefully unaware of the brewing battle beside you. He sighed, backing away with the tray, defeated.

—

It only got worse from there. Any time Buck tried to show you affection, Max would be there, inserting himself into the moment. Trying to hold hands? Max would shove his nose between you. Trying to kiss you? Max would bark until the two of you had to laugh and pull apart.

You thought it was adorable.

Buck thought it was sabotage.

"Am I seriously competing with the dog?" Buck asked one night as he flopped onto the couch, rubbing his temples.

You glanced up from your book, a smile playing on your lips. "Buck, he’s a dog."

"Yeah, but look at him!" Buck gestured wildly to Max, who was sitting by your side, looking smug. "He’s doing it on purpose. He’s trying to steal you from me!"

You chuckled and set your book down, moving to sit beside Buck. "I think you're being a little dramatic."

"Dramatic?" Buck huffed. "You didn't see the way he growled at me this morning! I tried to sit next to you in bed, and he nearly bit me!"

Max yawned innocently, stretching out on the floor as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

"He's protective, Buck. He loves me."

"I love you!" Buck shot back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And I can’t even get a minute alone with you without him getting in the way."

You gave him a sympathetic smile and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You know I love you too, right?"

Before Buck could respond, Max was on his feet, barking loudly and nudging his way between you two as if sensing the affection and wanting to claim it for himself.

"See?!" Buck threw his hands up in exasperation. "This is what I’m talking about!"

"Alright, alright," you laughed, pulling Max back gently. "Max, down." He obeyed but continued to stare at Buck, as if daring him to make another move.

Buck narrowed his eyes at the dog. "It's on, buddy."

—

From that moment, Buck became determined to win this war. He’d do anything to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one.

He tried spoiling Max with treats, thinking he could bribe him into submission. But Max would take the treats, then immediately return to you, acting as if Buck hadn’t just handed him a piece of bacon.

He tried taking Max out for extra-long walks, hoping to tire him out so he’d leave you alone. But no matter how long the walk, Max always seemed to have boundless energy when it came to staying by your side.

One evening, Buck tried sitting on the couch with you, waiting until Max was in another room before sneaking in for some cuddle time.

The moment you leaned into Buck’s arms, Max barreled into the room like a furry missile, leaping onto the couch and wedging himself between you two with a satisfied huff.

"Are you kidding me?!" Buck groaned, glaring at the dog. "I can't take this anymore."

You just laughed, patting Max on the head. "Come on, Buck. You can share."

"Share?" Buck looked at you like you'd lost your mind. "He's trying to kick me out of my own relationship!"

You leaned over and kissed Buck’s temple. "Well, I have enough love for both of you."

Buck grumbled, eyeing Max, who was currently wagging his tail, victorious.

"Fine," Buck muttered, leaning back against the couch with an exaggerated sigh. "But this isn’t over."

Max wagged his tail harder, as if agreeing.

And so the battle continued—Buck versus Max, two stubborn competitors vying for your attention.

—

One Saturday morning, you woke up to the sound of a vacuum whirring outside the underneath the loft bedroom of Buck’s apartment. You blinked, confused, and glanced over to find Max still snuggled up beside you, blissfully unaware of whatever Buck was up to. Curious, you slipped out of bed and padded down the stairs.

In the living room, you found Buck in full cleaning mode—vacuuming, dusting, and even scrubbing the windows. His face was set in a determined expression, and he looked up as you entered, flashing you a grin.

"Morning, babe! Just thought I'd get a head start on the chores," he said cheerily, though the way he kept glancing at Max made you suspicious.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Buck, you never clean this early. What’s going on?"

Buck shrugged, a little too casually. "Nothing, just... you know, being helpful. Thought maybe you'd appreciate some undistracted time together after this."

Just as you were about to respond, Max trotted into the room, stretching lazily before sitting right at your feet. Buck’s smile faltered, but he recovered quickly.

"Great timing, buddy!" Buck said, grabbing a lint roller from the counter. "You’re getting a makeover today."

Max tilted his head in confusion, but before he could react, Buck started running the lint roller over his golden fur, collecting loose hairs like a man on a mission.

"Buck, what are you—"

"I read online that dogs love being groomed," Buck explained with feigned innocence, holding up the roller like it was some prized weapon. "I’m bonding with him. You know, man to dog."

Max blinked up at you, clearly unimpressed, and let out a quiet whine.

You stifled a laugh. "I think he’s fine, Buck. You don’t have to—"

"Nah, he needs this. I’m sure he’ll thank me later.”

Buck was relentless, following Max around with the lint roller, determined to prove his point. But Max, who had started out merely confused, now seemed outright annoyed. He’d walk to you, Buck would follow. He’d lay down, and Buck would be right there, rolling away at his fur.

Finally, Max had enough. With a grumpy huff, he darted out of the room and curled up in his bed, out of Buck's reach.

Buck watched him go, then turned to you with an accomplished grin. "See? Problem solved."

"Uh-huh," you said, shaking your head with an amused smile. "You realize this is a little ridiculous, right?"

Buck dropped the lint roller and flopped onto the couch dramatically. "What do you expect me to do? He's always there! I can’t get five minutes alone with you anymore."

You walked over to stand between his legs, gently running a hand through his hair. "You don’t need to fight him for my attention, you know. You’re still my number one, Buck."

He gave you a skeptical look. "Tell that to Max."

You leaned down to kiss him softly. "I think you’re forgetting how much I love you."

Buck’s expression softened as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "I just miss having you all to myself sometimes."

Before you could respond, there was a soft bark from the hallway. You both turned to see Max peeking around the corner, watching the two of you with a curious tilt of his head.

"Don’t even think about it," Buck warned, holding you a little tighter.

Max, clearly unbothered by the threat, padded over to the couch, hopped up, and wedged himself between you and Buck with expert precision. Buck groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the cushions.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

You burst out laughing, scratching Max behind the ears as he settled in. "Guess we’ll just have to get used to being a package deal," you teased, nudging Buck with your elbow.

Buck shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "This isn’t over, Max."

Max licked Buck’s cheek, wagging his tail in response, as if to say, Bring it on.

[httpsghostie]

Beneath the Surface

Part one

Part two

A/N: First post! English isn't my first language so I'm sorry in advance if there's anything wrong with the writing.

Can't stop thinking about this man, it's unhealthy at this point

Brought you something filthy, hope you enjoy

Requests are open and appreciated!

Summary: Simon, your father's best friend, shows up in the middle of the night to give you a shoulder to put your legs head on.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader, unprotected sex (don't b silly wrap your weenie), p in v, implied age gap, choking, breeding kink (?

masterlist

NSFW below the cut

It had been an exhausting day and you felt like everything just decided to go wrong, all in one day. It started small, your sleeve getting caught in the door handle when you were cleaning the house, then it became a snowball. Accidentally hitting your foot on the corner of the bed, stumbling on the bucket and falling over it, spilling the dirty water all over the floor. At the end of the day you were overwhelmed, even the shower decided not to work properly, and you couldn't stand being near anything that could breathe. 

But there you were, endlessly trying to achieve the perfect eyeliner look because your college friends wanted to party. Failed attempts and sore eyelids lead you to a breakdown, and your attempts were soon washed away by your tears. Everything was too much and you just wanted a good night of sleep on a simple friday night. You sobbed in the bathroom as you tried to calm down, but your eyes were puffy and your face was swollen. The makeup was left on the bathroom sink and you went straight to your room to put on something more comfortable. 

Your parents weren't home, somehow when your dad was around he'd take your mom on late night dates. Simon, on the other hand, didn't have a wife or kids to come home to, and being your father's best friend, you probably saw the man even more than you saw your dad. He was almost always around when he was deployed, he had the keys to your parents house and he'd just show up. 

That wasn't exactly the best moment for him to appear in your living room when he realized the scream you let out. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare 'ya" he said. The room was lit by the TV screen and hopefully he wouldn't see your crying face. You sigh and walk to the kitchen, looking for something to eat, you end up making some popcorn and when you sneakily try to go straight back to your room, a cold hand grabs your arm. 

"Spit it out" he said. He knew you, usually you were happy and outgoing around him, and now you were just irritated and, of course, he couldn't comprehend. Your father didn't know but you were really close to Simon, he was kinda the cool uncle while your actual dad was strict and kind of annoying sometimes, Simon really made your high school years better just by being around when he could. 

"Not your business" you said, storming out. He followed your steps to your room, where you sat down on the bed and pulled a blanket over your legs, the bag of popcorn on your lap. He stood by the door frame, leaning against it, arms crossed as he eyed you. 

"Someone's grumpy" he tsked. "Come on, love, tell me what's wrong" he said as he came into the room and closed the door behind him. Something about him calling you love always caught you off guard, but now that you were in fact an adult with full knowledge of your feelings and needs, it made your stomach flip. 

"Nothing, Simon" you rolled your eyes at him as he sat in front of you on the bed. He made you a confused frown and laid a gentle hand on your knee. You could never keep things from him, his gaze burned you inside whenever he felt you were lying. "Just.. bad day, ok?" You sigh. 

"Bad day, huh?" You felt him mocking, but you couldn't care. "Elaborate." It felt so stupid to be angry because all the small things went wrong during the day, when you knew he had bigger problems to deal with in whatever army life he signed up for. 

"Everything went wrong today," you start, "I don't know, everything was either irritating me or hurting me, I even spilled the dirty water on me and the clean floor-" he cuts you off, laughing, you give him a killing stare. He holds the bridge of his nose and makes a disgusted face. 

"Have you showered?" His mood lightens you up and you chuckle, pushing him playfully. 

"Yes, I've showered." You say. "Cold shower, by the way." 

"What's wrong with the shower?" He asks and you shrug. "Aye I'll take a look at it later, 'k?" You nod. "Anything else that's bothering you?" God, it's like he could see through you. 

"I was going out with my friends," you explain shyly, "I couldn't finish my makeup and got frustrated, so I texted them saying I was sick." 

"And are you?" He tilts his head at you, you shake your head. "Why did you lie then, huh?" 

"Look I don't need a lecture on what to do, alright, Si? I just need to rest." The bag of popcorn on your lap became cold when you first took a handful to eat. 

"Want a massage?" He smirked. Of course you wanted a massage from those big, calloused hands of his that would fit perfectly around your neck. You stared at his hand and bit your lower lip, nodding. 

He gently pulled the blanket down from your legs and adjusted himself. You turned the TV on and he started to massage your feet. You let out a soft whimper as he ran his fingers against your skin, just now noticing how he shifted uncomfortably under your calves. 

Of course there was one more thing your dad didn't know: how touchy his best friend was with his daughter. You could say it was because he was a skirt chaser, or probably just touch starved, but the explanation didn't matter when his hand was traveling up your thigh under a blanket when you and your family were trying to watch a movie together. It was never more than this though, occasional touches that left you aching for him, hot and bothered. 

A movie played on the screen as he continued to massage your feet. There was something so sexual about him, the flexing muscles on his arm, his chest going up and down with his breathing, the growing bulge on his pants you could feel with your ankle and made a pool of arousal on your panties. 

Your shorts were... well, short, and he couldn't help but stare at you while you closed your eyes and imagined that monster of a man pinning you down and fucking you rough. More hums and soft whimpers escaped from your throat and they were going straight to Simon's dick. A malicious hand caressed your inner thigh and you opened your eyes with a confused, but hopeful look. He wasn't looking at you, and your stomach dropped when you saw a sex scene playing on the screen. You close your legs unsubconsciously and he looks at you. 

"'M sorry, love" he takes his hand off your thigh and chuckles. The nickname sent you over the edge, something snapping inside of you. He feels the way you shiver and how tense you seem, so he takes that bag of barely touched popcorn and places it by the bedside table and then land a warm hand on your waist. "What's on your mind, princess?" 

Well, nothing besides him naked, wasn't it obvious? But you couldn't say that, your mind was racing back and forth, and when you were unable to form a believable sentence, he caught you staring for too long. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled as his fingers traced circles on your waist. You can't remember the last time he tried doing this to you, but you know damn right you should've taken the chance to get laid, but God was it hard to understand this man. He'd tease you and pretend it was nothing, he'd leave you begging for him and say he couldn't touch you. Sometimes you just wanted to punch him for that. 

And yes, you found other ways to get satisfied. Got yourself a boyfriend during recess when neither Simon or your dad were around to pester the poor guy. But eventually they came home from wherever they were, and your father wasn't exactly happy about it, nor Simon, in fact, Simon was even more pissed than your dad. 

You couldn't say how many minutes you spent eyeing the man in front of you, but he grew impatient. The hand on your waist was gone and now spreading your legs to his liking, his body now towering over you. 

"If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours I'm gonna have to find out for myself." He said in a low, seductive voice. 

You gave in. Your hands grabbed the back of his neck and you kissed him feverly, a sloppy, wet kiss, he pressed his body onto yours and you could feel how hard he was on your lower body. But Simon was eager, he couldn't wait for it anymore, he needed to be inside of you. 

He yanked your shorts off, throwing it somewhere across the room, you also took his shirt off, revealing his perfect toned muscles and the scars that adorned it. He unbuckled his belt with one hand as the other one successfully removed your shirt. He didn't even bother taking his pants off, he just pushed them and his boxers down enough to let his dick free. He aligned it with your wet cunt, smearing your arousal all around your folds. 

"'S fucking wet already, huh?" He rubbed two fingers on your clit as he jerked himself off with his spare hand. "Can't imagine what you were thinking 'bout" he smirked. 

He put his tip on your entrance, looking at you for a sign of approval. You nod. He slowly pushed his length inside of you until it bottomed out. You clenched around him as you moaned. His body started moving faster as you adjusted to his size. He was big, you've felt it before with your hands, but you've never actually seen it. 

"Fuck, Si," you moan, "faster." You sounded like a desperate whore and he enjoyed it. You weren't exactly used to him not teasing you until you were on the verge of tears, so when he started to pound into you, you couldn't hold your moans. 

"Needy little slut." He grabbed your hips in place, almost using you like a fleshlight. He groaned, his chest rising with the heavy breathing. Fuck, that man was hot. 

His hands let go of your hips and held the back of your knees, so you were spreading even more. He watched as his dick abused your swollen and wet cunt, and he could cum just at the sight of his pretty princess getting ruined by his fat cock. You felt the cold metal on his belt hit the back of your thighs as he gave you deep thrusts. 

One of his hands traveled to your folds, his thumb drawing circles on your sensitive clit. As he was fucking your brains out, you dig your nails on his shoulders and earned a few moans along with a smirk. 

You were both really close when you heard a car park in the driveway, your eyes widened at Simon as he didn't seem to have listened to the sound of your parents getting home. 

"Fuck, Simon, my parents" you tried to push him away but his grip on you got stronger. He placed both of his hands on your neck and squeezed it. 

"Shut up" he whispered, not altering his pace. "Cum f' me, love" he demanded. Your hand rubbed your clit as he fucked you even harder. It was impossible to hold it back anymore and you reached your climax under him, your legs shaking from the overstimulation of his non-stopping thrusts. You heard the front door getting open. "'M gonna fill this pretty cunt of yours, huh? 'S that what you want?" He whispered in your ear. You could only slightly nod. "Good girl." He gave you a few more deep, shaky thrusts as he spilled his load into you and pulled out. 

"Y/n? We're home" you heard your mom shout from downstairs. Simon quickly pulled his pants up and put his shirt back on, throwing you your shorts that were across the room, tossed on the ground. He quickly got out and went to the bathroom, pretending he was fixing the shower. 

"Simon?" Your dad shouted in a worried and anxious tone, he obviously saw his friend's car in the driveway, and what was his friend doing here in the night when his daughter was alone? 

"Here" he shouted back from the bathroom, your dad ran upstairs to check if everything was alright and found Simon trying to fix the shower. 

"Everything alright? Heard noises" your dad asked. 

"Y/n gave me a call, she wanted to shower but apparently the shower wasn't working" you overheard Simon explain. He stepped out, turned it on and let the water run for a bit. "It's working now." 

You have absolutely no clue what the fuck he did with the shower in such a short period of time, but the effort was well appreciated. He tried to excuse himself out, but your dad insisted for him to stay the night. You waited in your room until your parents went to bed to get out, the back of your thighs were marked from his belt and your neck was red from his grip, not to mention the oozing cum on your thighs that your panties and shorts weren't able to hold. 

Simon was in the guest room when he heard you walk to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned, and of fucking course he wouldn't let you do it alone, he's finally got a taste of you after all these years holding back and he won't stop until he's fucking his cum inside you again as the running water muffles the sounds of how good he makes you feel.

[whore-ibly-hot]

How would Mr. Critch, Mr. Murphy, Evan, and Carter react to Y/n getting sick?

(love your boarding school btw❤️)

(also I'm sick with a cold😫)

ARGHAHAHAHGG7RURH I LOVE SICK FICS!

Mr. Critch: He'd be extremely cross with you, what nerve of you to skip his class, is it because you think your special, being the head masters kid? He pulls Harrison aside, and demands the boy tell him why you aren't present. When Harrison explains, he scolds him harshly for not having you 'quarantined'. He quickly moves you to the nurses ward, wanting you to be away from contaminating others and full focused on making up the work you are missing. Still, he's oddly doting. He makes sure you're eating healthy, checking your fever and assuring you stay alongside him. He wants you obedient. He knows what's best, just let him treat you. He'll keep track of all your medicines, and the moment you're better he promises you can go back to your room with Harrison. He enjoys this quiet time with you, and a part of him, the one who reads to you while you try and sleep, wishes to imagine this moment as domestic.

"The fever should be breaking soon, it's okay." He dabs at your forehead. "I'll find a way to get you cleaned up after. I promise." He assures.

Carter: Much like Mr. Critch, he's strict about what you can do. As class president, it's his duty to prevent an outbreak. He'll bring you to the nurses office, and ensure you keep up with your studies. He's more condescending, constantly reminding you of how kind he's being, taking time out of his day to care for you when he could be working. You should be able to care for yourself, he'd say, but when you'd send him away, he'd refuse to go. He takes a little extra time 'diagnosing' you, it would help him for biology class, he claimed. He'd run his hands over your neck and shoulders, touching your chest and working his way down. He'd gently feel your head for fever.

"What?" He scoffs, looking at you with annoyance. "The nurse is far too busy to give you the treatment you need, I'm making sure you aren't worsening. Lift your shirt a bit, let's just continue the exam."

Evan: He's pissed. He just got out of a great fucking game, and you weren't even in the crowd, not even for Harrison. His cock was aching, he'd planned to drag you to the after party and get his dick into you, but you didn't show. He'll practically kick down your door, and he's quick about it once he realizes you're sick. He doesn't want Harrison being a bitch and trying to keep you in his room. He gets you to his dorm, gives you some cough syrup and an edible he snagged from Pez, to keep you mellow. If he can't fuck you, he's at least going to keep you around. You're still got, even with a red face and stuffy nose. He won't exactly be doting, you'd have to ask two or three times before he'd get you anything but water, but he does like the feeling of control he's got over you. He'd put on a movie and keep you on his lap, assuring you he's not gonna get sick. Let him kiss you while your sleepy, let him grope you while he changes you from your uniform to one of his oversized jerseys. And most importantly, he expects you to care for him when he gets sick from swapping spit with you.

"God, you're burning up. Good thing I brought you in here, huh? Wouldn't want that shit head roommate leaving you to suffer alone in your room when you got a big strong stud here to look after your sick ass." He groans, adjusting you so your head lays across his chest.

Mr. Murphy: Absolute caring bear man, you're immediately moved to wherever you feel safest, preferably his apartment at the school, but the nurses office or your own dorm works. If you choose his apartment, he'll be thrilled at spending the time with you, even though seeing you as a sick little thing makes his chest ache. He'd stand over the stove for hours, digging through old recipe cards from his mom. He's usually more of a meat and potatoes guy, but he'll try his mommas soup and roll recipes, just for you. He makes sure you take your medicine, but nothing you don't want to take. He refuses to let you think about your school work, and insists he'll excuse you and talk to Critch (he thinks that guy has a major stick up his ass). He's got the coziest place by far, thick quilts and a cozy plaid couch.

"Easy, kid, easy." You're desperate to chug down the soup, but he's pacing you. "If you do throw up cause of this bug you've got, that's fine, but I'd rather my cooking not be the cause. You've got all the time in the world to eat it, and I'll always make more if you want." He takes a spoonful from his bowl. "Don't make me feed ya now." He teases.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

could you do the gang attempting to do female readers makeup for her?? 🫶🏻

Summary: The greaser attempt to do your makeup.

Warnings: none

Authors note: sorry that uploading has been spotty, I'm just in such a slump rnn but like what's new

PONYBOY would actually be pretty darn good at makeup. You would question where he got this cosmetic knowledge from but he says he's just got a steady hand and some artistic abilities. He actually eats down every time he does your eyeliner, you almost want to ask him to always do it for you. He's also down to let you try out products on him, as long as you guys aren't going anywhere. He likes feeling close to you and you doing his makeup gives him tingles.

JOHNNY would be OK at normal makeup things, but lip liner, eyeliner and mascara would be actual he'll with him because his hands are always shaking slightly. It's not like he's afraid it's just that he has really unsteady hands and isn't super artistic. He gets mascara and eyeliner everywhere so you end up layering and layering concealer under your eyes. He really likes doing it though, he sees why you do it so often because it's kind of fun seeing everything come together. He gets really happy if you actually wear the makeup he did out instead of wiping it off.

SODAPOP would usually watch his mom get dolled up when he was young, he's got some really sweet core memories about it. He'd prefer to just watch you do your makeup but he'd love to blend your foundation and stuff like that because he thinks beauty blenders are an absolute marvel. Him doing your makeup always ends in a bunch of giggles and a crazy new eyeliner and eyeshadow look. He's actually pretty artistic and can be really good, but he tries to make everything crazy.

STEVE is terrible at makeup, he knows what to do but he just can't figure out how to use each product. He tried to apply your foundation with your powder puff and you had to shriek to get him to not. You have to slowly walk him through everything, showing him what each thing does like a salesperson. He asks you to help him get better so he could do your makeup more often so you give him a couple of old products to practice with. Sodapop walks into work the next day with a full face done by Steve.

TWO BIT knows what he's doing somewhat. His sister has that kids makeup kit and he sees her apply her glittery eyeshadow everyday. He tries to help you but everything is a lot different than a kit, he smears your lip product all over his hands by accident because he thought it was one of those pot ones where you pick up the product with your fingers. He's also super clumsy, especially with the dark coloured things, like for example, he missed the tube of the mascara and ends up getting products along the side of it and on his fingers. The next day he brings his sisters makeup kit and does your glittery eyeshadow which he is much better at.

DARRY knows what to do, but he fumbles because he gets nervous. He dropped your blush onto his carpet and stained it. He felt super bad for wasting product and staining his rug but you promised it was fine and that after he did your makeup you could clean it together. He's actually very good at giving you a nice and put together look. The eyeshadow and lip colour he chose complimented your hair and eyes perfectly. Secretly, while he wasn't paying attention, you got some blush and patted it on his cheeks. He was immediately nostalgic because his mom used to do that and you brought back a core memory for him.

DALLAS is terrible at makeup. You'd think with the amount of girls he wooed he would know a thing or two but he's completely oblivious. He tried to put contour as your foundation before realizing it didn't match your face colour and then tried to use highlighter. After the first few times he actually became some what of a pro and started swiping high-end luxury cosmetics. Sometimes he also steals your contour to make himself look cooler and define his muscles and jawline.

[billthedrake]

This is kind of a bisexual-content retelling of my Senior Week story, inspired by @pagespermer 's posts, as well as some hetero porn stories.

ODD MAN OUT

It was a joke at first. The guys on the team having guy talk, talking about the hottest moms in our friend circle. Apparently my mom was a MILF in the top 3 of fuckable moms in our high school. I felt like I should take umbrage, but I was already odd man out on our lacrosse team and maybe desperate to fit in.

Besides, Tate's mother was the main object of the leering jokes. Mrs. Walsh wasn't a typical MILF, she was like a hot sorority girl who refused to act her age. Big tits, bleach blonde hair, lots of make up, skin-tight jeans and skimpy tops. And, I don't know, she kind of doted on her jock son. Even though Tate was a senior, a tall strapping defender who was definitely scholarship material, Mrs. Tate doted on the poor guy. Showing up at all the games and hugging him after, planting a kiss on his cheek, that kind of thing.

Tate would blush and take the ribbing from the guys after.

It was consensus that Mrs. Walsh was hands-down number one fuckable mom. Like, not even a close contest. Even Tate stopped objecting when we started talking about how hot Mrs. Walsh was, and he'd shrug and admit that yeah, his mother was a real MILF.

Still, it caught us off guard one night we were partying at TJ Evanchick's place when his parents were out of town. He'd been busted for having a big party once before, so it was just four of us - me, TJ, Tate, and Mac Baroni, an attacker on the team and a dude who I thought was a complete douche at first but who I'd gotten to become friends with. It was Mac who brought me into the circle of these guys over senior year.

"Truth or Dare?" Mac asked. It was Tate's turn.

Walsh took a swig of hard seltzer and shrugged. "I dunno. Truth, I guess."

Mac got a naughty grin and asked. "Ok... you ever fuck your mom?"

It was our running joke of course. Maybe because Tate didn't seem put off by all the hot mom talk. It just egged us on to talk about banging Mrs. Walsh.

But even Mac was caught by surprise when the hunky defender got a naughty smirk of his own. "Truth, right?" he asked. Tate was probably the most conventionally good looking of us all, and if I even let my lust drive to the guys on the team he was the one I was most attracted to. Brown hair, soulful brown eyes, perfect smile, and just a killer bod, tall and built at 6'5". "This fucking stays between us," he warned.

"Oh shit," TJ exclaimed. He was saying what we were all thinking. There's no way that Tate and Mrs. Walsh could be...

"Yeah, I've fucked Mom."

In any other context we would assume it was a joke, but from the forced bravado on Tate's face and the darting look in his brown eyes, I could tell, we all could tell, the guy wasn't bullshitting.

"When, how?" Mac stammered. Then. "Fuck!"

That got a laugh out of Tate. "You have to wait till my next turn, fuckers." I could tell he was enjoying our stunned reaction. He turned to me. "All right, Mullins... Truth or Dare."

I thought for a second. "Dare."

Tate smirked. "Suck Evanchick's cock."

"Fuck no!" TJ interjected. His face grew red, and he shot me a contrite look before confronting Walsh. "Dude, that's way fucking out of line."

Tate held up his hands. "OK, OK, sorry, bro," he said to me. "That was a dick move..." he took a drink and thought for a second. "All right... three tequila shots. In a row."

My tolerance wasn't quite with these guys, but it was more than a high schooler maybe should have. I'd be hammered, but if I kept my wits about me I'd pace myself after. "Line em up," I said.

TJ picked up a shot glass and poured one. I tossed it back, pretty easy. The second one went OK, too. I had to pause for the third, my head feeling tipsy already. "Fuck it," I said, and drank that one too.

I was gonna be fucked-up drunk. Good think I was crashing at TJ's. "Truth or Dare," I slurred to Teej.

"Truth," he said.

"You ever fuck an older woman?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. Total bucket list though."

Tate hissed. "Dude that was a fucking layup question."

Mac laughed. "Not all of us are motherfuckers like you Walsh."

Tate shot him the middle finger but laughed. I could tell he was strangely proud of his incestuous conquest and maybe relieved he'd shared it with us.

TJ turned to Mac. "Truth or Dare."

Mac leaned back in the chair. He'd been bulking up a lot lately and had some beefy genetics to work with. The result was more of a football player-like build that showed underneath his loose T-shirt. "Dare," he said with a "bring it" attitude.

TJ grinned. Even if he was a senior, the midfielder still had a young look to him: dimples, baby fat clinging to his cheeks, shorter frame. "All right... go in the other room and jack off to a picture of Mrs. Walsh."

Mac laughed, then pushed his chair back from the table. "You got it."

Tate shook his head. "Don't you need a picture first, doofus?"

TJ grinned. "Mac has a couple on his phone."

"You assholes," Tate said. "Is Luke the only guy not perving on my mom?"

"Pretty much," Mac said. Already he was walking behind Tate to make his way to another room.

Tate got a real naughty look on his face. "Dude... I have some better pictures if ya want..."

That stopped Mac in his tracks. "Shit... for real?"

Tate was blushing now, but that didn't stop the big jock from pulling out his phone and finding a hidden photo album. He swiped a couple of times and handed it to Mac. "For your eyes only, bro."

Mac's eyes went wide. "Fuck! OK, yeah... this isn't gonna take me long at all." He almost scurried out and down the hall.

TJ seemed flustered and horny now. "Dude, we gotta wait to get the fucking details? Come on!"

Tate looked over at me. "You OK with this Mullins?"

"Yeah," I said. "Doesn't faze me." It was crazy as fuck of course, but it wasn't my mom. And between porn and some exploratory times getting head from dudes, I was very much open to sexual self-discovery. Most of all, I loved how this secret was a bonding time between us.

My answer seemed to satisfy Walsh. "I won't tell you how long it's been going on, but yeah, we're having sex pretty regular now."

TJ's face grew pale and I thought he was getting freaked out, but it turned out that was him growing hornier at the idea. "Like, how regular is regular?"

Tate got a sly look on his face. "Bro, like every fucking day. I'm pretty sure Dad knows, too... it's fucking wild." He paused and looked intently at TJ, who I gather he trusted less than me. "Not a fucking word to anyone about this, right?"

"Scout's honor," Evanchick said, crossing his heart. "I'm just impressed, bro. You're living the dream."

Tate leaned back, a little calmer now. "You ever think about doing your mom, Evanchick?" Mrs. Evanchick was not on the fuckable moms list. She was, I dunno, just a normal mom.

"Yes and no," he admitted. "Sometimes when I jack off I go there. But in reality it would probably be too weird and fucked up."

Tate nodded. "It's totally weird and fucked up, dude." Then leaning back in, he said, "But damned if that doesn't make getting your dick wet in your own mother's pussy even hotter."

Just then Mac walked in, face flushed. He handed Tate his phone back. "Walsh, I owe you SO much for that just now... I mean... WOW!"

"Can I see?" TJ piped in. He saw Tate's hesitation. "Come on, Walsh... pretty please..."

Tate relented and pulled up the picture again before sliding it to TJ. "You want a look too, Mullins?" he asked. Not pointed or hostile, but genuinely curious.

"Nah, I'm good," I said with a drunken shrug.

Mac sat back down and took a drink. "I know you keep clammed up around us, Luke... but you ever make it with an older dude?"

I nodded, not sure how far I could go. "Sometimes, yeah," I admitted. "I think I prefer em older, actually."

"Yeah?" Mac asked. "What's the equivalent of a MILF?" Maybe Mac was the stereotypical dumb jock.

"Um, a DILF," I replied as diplomatically as I could.

That got a big laugh out of TJ. But instead of chiming in he got out of his chair. "I need a minute with Mrs. Walsh fellas."

Tate wasn't offended as TJ took his phone and walked into the other room like Mac just had. I think he was proud of showing off his hot mom.

"So... you're into DILFs, Mullins?" Tate asked.

I was. But I didn't want to get into my daddy issues. Still, my reply was the truth. "Yeah... they're really into young dudes like me. You can kind of have your way with them, actually." I was drunk now and that's probably why I was opening up.

"For real?" Tate responded. "Shit!" Then, "Good for you, bro."

"Yeah," Mac said. He was a macho dude, like most of the guys on the team, but the gay thing didn't phase him as much I expected. But he chimed in, "But can we set a new rule? No talking about who has the most fuckable dad, OK?"

"Bro, you're the one who brought it up," I reminded him.

"Touche," he said.

"You speak French now, Mac?" Tate teased. He could be an asshole, but I had to laugh.

***

It was inevitably going to happen, and maybe deep down I knew it. But it was early June and we were two weeks away from graduation. The guys on the team had somehow become even tighter lately, maybe because we'd all be going off to different colleges. Add a good dose of senioritis and the shorter leash our parents had on us, and we were partying several nights a week. We couldn't drink or get high around Evanchick's parents, but even my folks were OK with it as long no one drove. It was a real sign of something that none of the dudes made a crack about sleeping over in my bedroom.

Friday night was at Tate's house. The Walshes were pretty loaded and had a sweet backyard with a pool. That's where Mrs. Walsh found us when she came in. She was still dressed in a skirt and business attire blouse. Tate's mom was a realtor. Hell, maybe she was a good businesswoman, but those tits had to have sold half of the houses she put under contract. Even with a professional blouse, she was buxom as hell. It was pretty late in the evening and she'd probably stopped for wine with her friends or something, she just had that relaxed look about her.

"Tate," she said. "I don't want you boys in the pool, OK?" She was in Mom mode, and it didn't take me long to figure out why. We were pretty buzzed and White Claw cans were strewn around. And Evanchick had just done a cannonball into the deep end.

"Yeah, OK, Mom," Tate said, embarrassed some but he looked at us and shrugged.

"Where are my manners?" Mrs. Walsh said. "Hello Luke, Evan... Mac..."

"Hello Mrs. Walsh," Mac said dumbly. I didn't know how straight guys were wired, not really, but I had a good sense of what was going through his mind then. He'd seen a picture of Mrs. Walsh's tits, maybe more. It was impossible for him to get THAT out of his mind.

TJ was already hoisting himself out of the pool. The doofus was definitely trying to show off for Tate's mom, letting the water run down his toned athletic bod. He was shorter and more compactly muscled than Tate, but his real asset was that he legendarily had the biggest cock on the team. I'd just seen it soft in the locker room, but talk was that he had a real horse dick that was outsized to his smaller frame. His wet trunks clung to a thick lump.

I could see Tate's mom laugh some since she could read what TJ was doing as well as me. Turning back to Tate she added. "You can use the hot tub if you want." Then turning to the rest of us, she added, "Just keep the noise down fellas, OK?"

"Yes Mrs. Walsh," Mac chimed in. He was still beneath the water but his eyes were fixated on Tate's mom as she walked back inside.

"Fuck," he finally said.

"Easy, Baroni, that's my mom," Tate laughed. Kind of serious, but kind of joking.

"It's no fucking fair, man," Mac shook his head. But there wasn't really much else to say. Especially because none of us were sure we were completely out of earshot.

I could tell Mac was boned when he finally got out of the pool and I felt bad for the guy. Especially because he sheepishly looked over my way to see if I was checking him out. I'd done a lot of compartmentalizing over the last few years, but in the buzz I had going on, I was thinking, yeah, I'd like to see Mac's hardon. That realization made me blush I did my best to look away without seeming like I was getting caught red handed.

Tate was already firing up the hot tub, testing the temperature, since it was already a warm summer evening out and we didn't need the water too hot. The hot tub itself was pretty nice, almost a mini pool that could hold 6 easily. We'd used it a couple of times before, it was kind of nice after a game or a hard workout actually. TJ popped open another hard seltzer can and asked if I wanted one. I held off, wanting to pace myself, but Mac readily agreed. I saw his dick had gone down as he stepped into the water. He was looking extra beefy, and Tate would rib him about getting his freshman 15 a year early. I dunno, that bulk kind of looked good on him.

We talked about our college plans. I mean, we knew each other's college plans, but there was all that boring shit... orientation, move date, dorm and roommate plans. Mac and Tate were D1 scholarship players, whereas TJ planned to play on a lacrosse club in his college. I looked forward to taking a break from trying to fit in with the jocks. From being the odd man out. I had no idea what my true scene was, but I was eager to find it.

We were all relaxed sitting in that hot tub, just talking about some dumb shit, I can't even remember what. Then, Mrs. Walsh came out.

"Is it OK if I join you gentlemen?" she asked, a half-filled plastic wine glass in hand. Her tone was kind of flirty but almost in the way that a hot chick talks to all guys. It's just her normal.

That bikini wasn't normal, though. It was like sorority-slut Spring Break skimpy. Those tits made it even more obscene, as two triangular patches of fabric barely covered half of those boobs. As a gay dude, I wasn't a connoisseur of tits, but I suspected Mrs. Walsh had some augmentation done at some point. They were not only big but firm.

The guys muttered their OK in stumbling words, but already Tate's mom was stepping into the tub. She turned to Tate. "You don't mind me joining, do you, honey? Your momma's had a long day."

Tate had a shit-eating smirk on his face. For all of his mother-fucking talk, part of me didn't believe it. I believed it now. My teammate had the look of a man very much sexually obsessed with his mom and very open about that obsession. "Of course not, Mom." He scooted to the side to let his mother take the seat in the water next to him.

I could hear Evanchick gulp in horniness beside me. And from the ashen look on Mac's face, he was having a hard time figuring out how to react.

It was weird as fuck to me, but I was feeling more detached and amused. Not my circus.

"Hmmm, that water feels nice," Mrs. Walsh said, relaxing her neck back and rolling her head around a little as if to relieve the stress. The action just made her boobs jut out more.

"Tough day, Mom?" Tate asked.

"Fraid so, hon...." Mrs. Walsh said as he turned her head back to look at him and at all of us. She had a dreamy look on her face. "But don't let me stop the party."

"Thanks for letting us come over, Mrs. Walsh," Mac piped in. It was so wild to me the way a confident jock could all of a sudden act like a doofus around a hot woman.

"Anytime," she said. "As long as you boys behave."

Oh fuck, she was flirting. And I could see the smirk on Tate's phase. He knew what his mom was doing and seemed to approve.

Leave it to Evanchick to have more game than Baroni. "I don't always behave, Mrs. Walsh. But I know how to respect my elders."

Mrs. Walsh giggled. She was enjoying this. Like a hunter lioness circling her prey before pouncing. "Oh TJ, you make me sound so OLD!" she teased.

"It's not that, Mrs. Walsh," TJ stammered, trying to keep his game face on. "It's just.."

She smiled. "Oh I'm just teasing. But there's something about seeing you boys go off to college that isn't make feel any younger."

Tate put his arm around his mother's shoulder. "You know I'm going to be back to visit a lot, Mom, right?"

"You better, Tate," she mock-chided.

I gulped. It was uncomfortable, like us guys were watching something private between Tate and his mom. But I also knew that TJ and Mac were getting horned up by it, too. In my own way, I was as well.

Especially as Tate got a certain goofy grin on his face. I couldn't tell exactly where Mrs. Walsh's hand was but I had the feeling she was feeling him beneath the bubbling water.

My teammate turned to us. "Mom's a little upset I showed you those pics," he stated flatly.

Mac started to stammer an apology. Evanchick just grinned.

Mrs. Walsh let out a little giggle. "Tate's too old to ground, but I gave him a lecture about keeping secrets." She turned from a loving glance at Tate to look at us as well. "But I'm flattered you liked the photos."

Jesus.

Mac was blushing red. TJ was gonna shoot his shot. "No disrespect, Mrs. Walsh, but you're a very attractive woman. Any guy would be crazy not to notice."

Tate let out a little laugh.

Mrs. Walsh played along. "That's very sweet TJ." The surreal thing was she just seemed to be in her normal ex-sorority "nice" mode. Even as she got that relaxed look on her face and casually took off her bikini top.

I thought that swimsuit was pretty obscene and barely hid anything, but as those tits popped out, the temperature was definitely being turned up. I now knew that she and Tate had planned this.

Mrs. Walsh gently tossed the bikini top aside and leaned back, letting those big jugs stick out just an inch above the water. Definitely fake. Not that any of the guys cared.

"How does the real thing compare, gentleman?" she asked.

Baroni finally got past his shyness. "They're incredible, Mrs. Walsh. I'm gonna dream about them, actually."

Mrs. Walsh smiled. She seemed to love the attention. I was watching Tate, who was watching his mother. He was enjoying this, maybe enjoying showing off his hot mom.

But Mrs. Walsh's gaze was now directed across the hot tub. "Want to feel them, Mac?" she asked. A little more sultry but somehow Mrs. Walsh didn't make it sound slutty. Or it was slutty in a mom-next-door way. Totally fucked up.

Mac was already moving across the water. All eyes were on Mrs. Walsh's boobs, except mine. I was eyeing up Mac Baroni's football-like beef and trying to see if I could make out his hardon in the wet board shorts.

"Fuck," he hissed once his big paws cupped those hooters. Mac half massaged the fleshy globes, half just held onto them. "You're a lucky dog, Tate," he growled, then stopped himself. "Sorry..." he apologized. "I'm an idiot." I could see in Mac's face a real worry he'd fucked this up by bringing up the incest so explicitly.

Mrs. Walsh put him at ease. "Tate's very familiar with my breasts... aren't you honey?"

"Yes, Momma," he said. It was so wild to see my jock buddy use that term with his mother. Already his hand was easing over to one of his mom's breasts, nudging Mac's out of the way.

Mrs. Walsh let the guys feel her up for a minute then said softly. "Don't you boys know how to share?" she asked. "Maybe Luke and TJ want a turn."

"Luke's gay, Mrs. Walsh," Mac asserted.

"I'm sure as hell not," Evanchick kind of boasted as he stood up in the hot tub. Not just scooting over like Mac did, I realized he wanted Tate's mom to see his endowment. Indeed, that massive cock rode up high and hard in his swim trunks.

"Why don't you sit up on the edge, Mom?" Tate asked.

Those tits bounced, but barely, as she did just that. Mac was following to take one side while TJ took the other side.

I was feeling odd man out now, and I pushed myself out of the tub.

"Not gonna stay for the show, Mullins?" Tate teased. Already he was sitting in the tub and between his mom's legs, pulling the swimsuit bottom down.

"Pussy weirds him out, bro," Mac chimed in, referring to a statement I'd made while drunk one night about being turned off by straight porn.

All right, these guys were in obnoxious jock mode. I did my best to ignore them as I dried off and found my flip flops.

The air conditioning inside was cool, cold even. I wished I'd put on my T-shirt, but I didn't want to go back out there. These guys were having their dream sex fantasy handed to them on a silver platter, and part of me respected that. I wasn't gonna spoil it for them. But I just wished they didn't have to be dicks, and I wished I could stick up for myself more.

I opened the fridge and found one of the craft beers that probably was Mr. Walsh's. Tate and the guys were into hard seltzer or tasteless beer. I laughed to think they gave me shit for being into fruity mixed drinks when we first started partying. I stopped drinking those now.

I popped open the can and took a sip. The kitchen window had a pretty good view on the hot tub area. I wasn't gonna watch but figured what the hell. The guys wouldn't notice but even if they did, fuck 'em.

Tate had his face buried between his mother's thighs and was really going to town. Apparently my teammate was really into eating pussy. Mrs. Walsh was kind of going wild, kissing Mac then TJ, back and forth, while both of them mauled her tits like it was the first rack they'd ever felt up.

As fevered as those guys were in the group scene, they weren't rushing things, not pushing to the next step quickly. But eventually, TJ pulled back from his kiss and reached down to push down his trunks. Up popped that huge dong, long and fat and hard. Evanchick was hung as much as his reputation and on his compact frame it looked even more massive.

I'd been so engrossed in the show that I didn't hear the sound of someone coming into the house.

"Hey Luke... the guys out back?"

I turned back, like a kid caught with the hand in the cookie jar. There was Mr. Walsh standing in his golf attire, the dry-knit polo clinging to his meaty pecs and draping more loosely over the dad bod midsection. He had a reddish hue and tan line from his day on the links and he had that nineteenth hole buzz vibe to his expression. I always thought the man was handsome, kind of a classic "dad" masculinity to him.

But now the nervousness kicked in.

"Hey Mr. Walsh," I said, blood draining from my face. "Um, you might not want to look out back, sir."

The man stopped, and it took him just a second to figure out what I was talking about and for that affable smile to leave his face. "Oh," he said. I think he was more worried that I knew than anything, and I felt bad for the man. He let out a loud sigh. "I've probably seen worse," he said. Then nodding down at at my beer, he asked, "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," I said. It was fucked up. Here was my buddy's dad, basically cucked by his own son, and I felt it was my job to be the guy's friend. "I think I raided your beers, sir. Sorry."

The man walked over to the fridge and got himself a cold can. "Glad you did," he said. "Make yourself at home, Luke." Mr. Walsh was very laid back about us drinking, the opposite of Evanchick's or Baroni's folks.

He popped the can open and took a long sip. Maybe it was all the sexual activity earlier, but I was definitely grooving on Mr. Walsh's thick bod. Total hot daddy, but in a real way, not in an Instagram DILF kind of way. Still, I tried not to seem weird around him.

The man took a look out the window finally. He didn't seem too bothered, but he turned to me. "Yep. That's pretty messed up," he said.

I laughed, and I hoped Mr. Walsh didn't think I was laughing at him. It was just how he acknowledged the absurdity of Tate and my teammates all doing Mrs. Walsh.

He turned to me. "I'm surprised you're not joining them Luke. You have a girlfriend?"

I shook my head. "Nah, Mr. Walsh... it's not my thing."

He misread what I was saying. "You're not going to get them in trouble are you?" he asked. For as cucked he was, it was clear that his wife and his son had his blessing.

"I mean, I'm gay, sir," I said. A year ago I would have hid this, but something about the situation and the fact I was going off to college soon had me more blunt.

Mr. Walsh nodded. "Wouldn't have guessed, buddy," he said. He took another look out the window. Then with a grin he added, "You check out your buddies' cocks?"

Fuck. Maybe Tate's dad was just messing with me, or just trying to show he was cool with the gay thing. But I was getting the vibe it was something more.

I felt my face grow hot now. "That goes against the bro code," I replied.

Mr. Walsh looked back at me with a smile. "Hell, they're not my bros," he said and turned to look back out.

OK, Tate's dad had at least a big homo streak. I laughed and walked over to stand beside him at the window. As wild as the scene was earlier, this was incredible in its own way. Standing beside Mr. Walsh's warm body, both of us playing voyeur, watching his own son and my teammates have a four-gy with his wife.

"TJ is hung like a fucking mule," the man said, taking a sip of beer. I decided I liked Mr. Walsh, a lot. "Look at that huge dick."

I did. Mrs. Walsh was doing her best to suck it, while Mac jerked his dick and waited for his turn. Tate was still munching his mom's snatch.

"I prefer Mac's," I said. Blushing as I admitted it, but it felt good to let it out.

Mr. Walsh turned to me. "Yeah, bud?" he said. I could read so much understanding in his face. He knew what it was like. "You don't have to worry about the bro code around me," he added.

"Thanks, Mr. Walsh."

"Tom," he said. I knew his first name but never used it.

"Thanks, Tom," I said. I turned my attention out back again. Tate was now bare ass naked and thrusting between his mom's legs.

I could tell Mr. Walsh was horny watching. I couldn't begin to guess the situation here. But he watched intently and asked. "What do you think of my son?" he asked, a horny edge to his voice.

Talk about fucked up. But Tom didn't judge me, and I wasn't gonna judge him. "Tate's kind of a dick, but he's hot," I admitted. Something about the situation made me feel freer to speak the truth.

Mr. Walsh chuckled. "You don't go for the cocky ones do ya, Luke?"

"No sir," I said. "Not normally my thing."

He nodded, still watching the sex scene out book. "Good for you."

We watched a little while longer and sipped our beer. It was hot but was also a strange bonding experience. Both of us odd man out.

Finally, Tom spoke again. "Sorry you're not having your fun tonight, Luke."

I was feeling buzzed now, and anyway I figured I'd channel Evanchick some. Shoot my shot. "If you gave me a chance, Tom..." I said. Throwing it out there.

I could tell Mr. Walsh was surprised. And also into the idea. He turned to me with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm afraid I've gone to seed," he said.

I stood my ground. Posture erect, my dick firming up. "You're totally hot, Tom. I'm not just saying that."

He still seemed cautious. "You, um... you know, you ever done anything?"

I wanted to make stuff up but I told him the truth. "I've gotten a couple of blowjobs. Older guys, too. It's always hot."

Tom smiled. Maybe teasing me as he replied. "So YOU like the be the cocky one?"

I chuckled, out of nervousness and horniness alike. "I don't fucking know, Tom," I complained. "I just love men, you know?" I put the emphasis on men because, the Mac Baronis of the world excepted, I knew I'd prefer someone older than me.

"I wish I'd realized earlier," he said and I felt him put his arms on my waist. I was shirtless and the contact of his warm hands felt amazing.

We kissed. For all the no-strings sex I'd had, I now realized this was missing. It didn't have to be romantic, though ultimately I'd want that too. But feeling Tom Walsh's lips against mine, our tongues slipping together, me trying to follow his lead and anticipate it, the warmth and scent and breath from a MAN pulling close to me. I fricking loved it.

His hands were now feeling me up, running up and down my bare back. I didn't have Mac's beef or even Tate or TJ's muscle but I was a fit athlete. Mr. Walsh seemed to appreciate what I had going on.

For my part I was pawing at every bit of Tom's dad bod, feeling the hard back muscle and the softer love handles and enjoying it all. I was realizing that my preferred body type really was a man with some meat on his bones. I knew it was visually, but in person too it drove me wild to feel that hard-softness of a bigger man. Greedily, my fingers were now running underneath Tom's golf shirt to make skin contact.

Mr. Walsh moaned into my mouth. We were clinging to each other like horny teenagers. Well, I was the horny teenager, Mr. Walsh was just plain horny.

We finally broke the kiss, smiles on our faces. "You are quite an attractive young man, Luke," Tom said.

"This is SO against the bro code," I joked. "My buddy's dad."

Mr. Walsh laughed. "I'm sure," he said. "But Tate's having his fun. It's my turn now." He gave me a quick peck again. "Take this to the guest room?"

We were already down the hall before I realized I'd forgotten about the hot tub orgy going on. Mr. Walsh led me into the guest room, and I felt bad as I realized this is where he slept now. But he pulled down the covers and peeled off his shirt. God, that meaty bod was incredible. He wasn't overweight, really, and the top of his torso was all firm round pecs and broad build shoulders and arms. His middle had a little beer belly. Not quite round, not quite a spare tire, but something in between. His chest hair wasn't heavy but it looked fitting for his age, sprinkled with some gray flecks.

"You don't have to be shy, Luke," he said.

I realized then I was hesitating to take off my trunks. But I did now. This felt naughtier than getting my dick sucked by some random dude. This was my friend's dad, and I was now showing off my boner to him and stripping down naked.

"Very nice," Tom smiled, now undoing his own golf shorts.

I realized I hadn't seen Tate's cock just now, so I don't know how his dad's compared. But it was a perfect dick. Average in length and fatter in girth. Whereas mine had an inch on him but was more normal in width. We stepped toward one another and embraced again. Our cocks touching and battling a little.

We didn't kiss right away but enjoyed the playful intimacy.

"I gotta warn you, Tom," I admitted. "I don't really know what I'm doing. I mean... I've watched a lot of porn, but for the real thing..."

He nodded. "You up for sucking me some?" he asked. Tone respectful but horny.

I nodded. "Um, yeah... fuck."

"Sit down on the bed," he urged.

I did. From that vantage, Tom Walsh's body seemed girthier and more muscular too. I wondered if this is what Mac would look like when he got older. It was a thrill of a thought. I leaned forward and started licking Mr. Walsh's perfect dick, which twitched against my tongue.

"Nice, buddy... feel free to explore it."

I did. Working up from his balls to his dripping cock slit and back down. It was incredible to have another man's genitals pressed against my face. Finally, I got up to the top again and opened up. My first dick to suck and I was going for it.

"God, yeah, man... easy buddy.... that's it, nice and slow... get used to me."

Walsh wasn't overly hung but for my first dick the size seemed pretty big. But I relaxed and focused on sucking in addition to bobbing. Once I got the groove, I heard grunts of approval from Mr. Walsh. Then his hands on my head, gently pulling me into his crotch with a steady pace matched to my sucking.

"Your first cock, buddy?" he hissed. "You're doing amazing."

I was glad of that, but my jaw and throat were tiring, mostly from the newness of the sensation. Thankfully, Tom pulled out, his prick looking bigger and fuller and definitely wetter with my thick spit.

The man had a big smile on his face as he leaned down and met me for a tongue heavy kiss. Already this was beating the quick BJs I'd gotten before. The man patted my shoulder as he relinquished our lip lock. "Lie back, stud," he urged.

As I did I felt Tom's lips kiss along my abs and then further down.

"Oh yeah!" I hissed once he started taking me into his mouth.

This wasn't Mr. Walsh's first dick. He swallowed about four inches of me and worked me before he began deep throating. His pace was slow, almost gentle, but his nose mashed against my pubes with each go. Felt his throat gently milk my boner and saw the way his sun-lightened brown hair was thinner on top and had some gray flecks on the side. I wondered if he wanted to suck Tate like this.

I was starting to cum. Only Tom pulled off right before I did. His hand on my spit wet cock felt great but it was going to keep me on the boil, not push me to completion.

"I take it you're not up for getting fucked," he said. More a statement in tone, but I knew he was throwing the idea out there.

My body shook in nervous energy. "I don't think I'm ready, Mr. Walsh.... sorry, sir."

He grinned. Mayne being called Mr. Walsh made him feel like a dirty old man. Maybe he liked that. He leaned in and gave my balls a quick swipe of his tongue. "If you ever change your mind, Luke, I'd love to take your cherry."

The words were horny and lewd and the intensity of his proposal turned me on. "I'd love to lose it to you, sir," I replied. "Maybe another time. OK?"

He seemed pleased with that response as he pulled back and reached over to the nightstand. I saw the lube come out. For a second I got mad, like he was still going to pressure me to do this. But then he slicked up my hardon with his lubed hand and quickly did the same with his own.

I grinned. We were gonna jack off together. The idea seemed appealing. That way Tom and I could cum at the same time, maybe even while we were kissing. I took my dick in my hand and started the familiar motion up and down.

But as the married man scooted up in bed, he knocked my hand away, off my dick. My heart pounded as I saw his dad bod position himself over my midsection, straddling me.

"Man, we gonna...?" I asked, unable to believe it.

Tom got a big grin on his suntanned face. He nodded and reached over to pump out more lube into his palm, before reaching back between his legs to slick his ass up.

"You done this Mr. Walsh?" I asked. I needed to know. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, other than imitating porn, and I worried a real ass would take more effort to fuck.

"I got a golf buddy," he said with an impish grin. "We help each other out."

"Hot," I said. "You gonna help me out?" I teased.

Tom responded to my playful tone. "Well, your buddies left you high and dry, it's the least I can do."

The middle aged dad nestled his slick crack on my boner and let it nudge against his pucker for a second. "You OK going bare?" he asked, his blue eyes now meeting mine in a horny, almost dreamy expression.

"Fuck yeah," I hissed.

Then I felt the most amazing sensation of penetration. My first ass. My first dad hole. My buddy's father. Mr. Walsh.

"God..." I hissed.

The man was letting out some air, relaxing his body. But he was taking my dick pretty well, sinking down it. "You're a big boy, Luke," he said in his naughty bedroom voice.

"Bigger than your golf buddy?" I had to ask.

"Bigger than my golf buddy."

I almost made a crack about being bigger than his son, but held off. Tom paused at the bottom, having taken me all the way inside. His guts felt tight and hot and alive. I loved this. I'd want a LOT more fucking from here on out.

I was patient and in any case took the chance to run my hands along his body, along thos thick thighs and up over his dad bod stomach.

The man chuckled at my clear admiration. "You really like my body don't ya, Luke."

I looked up at him. At his handsome face and his raccoon eyes from the day of golf. I wanted to fuck him so bad. "Yes, sir. Fuck, is that weird?"

"Not at all, stud," he answered. "I'm glad."

He let me run my hands over his body some more then rose up. About four inches, then settled back down. And again. Mr. Walsh was fucking himself on me. I loved this, but my teen horniness kicked in. I held onto the man and started thrusting up into me.

"Yes!" he hissed. "You're hitting my fucking spot, Luke... right there, buddy!"

Indeed as I fucked into his meaty body, his cock jerked in a regular rhythm. It made me want to fuck faster. So I did.

"Yes, yes," the man urged. The fact Mr. Walsh liked this made me feel like a fucking king.

I knew I was going to have trouble holding off but the second he reached down to touch his own dick, his insides just did a crazy clench and unclench wave on my thrusting prick.

"Oh SHIT!" I gasped. Already orgasming. My hips a frantic blur, my whole lacrosse jock body tensing as I gave it up.

Maybe I was hitting Tom's spot just right. Or maybe he liked the idea I was breeding him. Because I wasn't finished with my release when I felt his hot sperm land on me in heavy blotches.

"FUCK!" he grunted, his body flush and his dick jerking as he milked out the last seed. He regained awareness and our eyes met. We laughed.

"Your first fuck?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"And...?" he prodded. I loved Tom's playful side.

"You've totally spoiled me, Mr. Walsh."

He leaned back, feeling my cock buried inside. "You're still hard as a rock," he laughed.

"Fraid so," I said.

"I need a break, OK?"

I nodded and he eased off. Our bodies were hot and sweaty as we connected for a kiss. We made out for a while, our hearts still racing. My dick wasn't going down but I was just enjoying this intimate connection.

Tom finally patted my chest. "I was not expecting THAT, Luke Mullins," he said.

"Expecting what?" I chuckled.

He shrugged. "You to be into men. You being able to fuck like THAT. First time out, too."

I smirked. "Yes, sir," I said. Now proud of my sexual performance. I didn't realize I'd done anything special. It felt like it was all Mr. Walsh.

He seemed to get a concerned look finally and he nodded his head back in the direction of the backyard. "You sticking around for the rest of the show out back?" he asked.

"Think they're done?" I asked. I was now nervous about the guys knowing about me and Tom. I didn't care for myself but I didn't want to get Tate's dad in trouble.

"Knowing Tate, probably not," the man said. Not jaded or bitter, almost impressed.

"I'm not gonna ask, Mr. Walsh," I said. "But I have SO many questions."

Thankfully the man had a sense of humor. "I bet. Maybe later, OK?" He leaned up and looked over at the clock.

"Did you drive here?" he asked.

"Nah, TJ picked me up."

"I can take you home if you like. Unless you want to crash here."

I didn't know if he meant in his room or with the guys. Either way, it seemed awkward now. "No, I'll head home, Mr. Walsh. Thanks." I sat up, feeling my energy surprisingly drained. I was going to sleep very well after that fuck. My dick had calmed down and softened and I enjoyed seeing Tom's eyes follow it as I got out of bed and slipped back into my swim trunks. "I gotta get my clothes out back."

Tom laughed. "All right. Meet you out front?"

When I got out back, the guys were out of the pool. Mrs. Walsh was on a lounger while Mac's powerhouse body fucked her. Tate was doing laps in the pool, while Evanchick sat in a chair, his huge dick hard but otherwise he was clearly resting between rounds.

He looked up as I walked over to get my shirt and flip flops nearby.

"Hey," he said. "Sorry we forgot about you Mullens," he said, leaning back in his chair. He wasn't self conscious about his nakedness around me, and I realized TJ liked showing off his big dong, even to me. "But you know..." he looked over at Mac going wild on Mrs. Walsh. "...fuck."

I looked over too. I wanted to memorize the vision of Baroni, naked and having sex. I turned back to Evanchick. "It's OK... I had my fun this evening."

TJ laughed and held up his fist in a mock jerkoff motion. But I shook my head no.

The guy's not as dumb as Mac, and he picked on what was going. "For real?" he asked. Looking back to see if Mr. Walsh was in sight.

"Yeah, for real," I boasted. I hated being an asshat, bragging about Mr. Walsh like that, but I was sick of being the odd man out. "Don't tell Tate, OK?"

TJ did a cross-his-heart gesture. I took one more look at Mac's magnificent backside and ass and then gave TJ a buddy pat on the shoulder. "See ya later, bro."

Mr. Walsh drove me home and was the total gentleman. He asked me if I was interested in a date, maybe golf on Sunday. He pulled up to my house and we exchanged phone numbers. And Tom kissed me before I got out of the car.

"Everything OK?" my mom asked when she saw me home early. She'd given me some ground rules for the summer but they were pretty lax. 11PM curfew unless I was staying at a friend's house chaperoned. She wasn't used to seeing me before 9 these days.

"Yeah, Mom," I said. "Just tired from my workout today. Mr. Walsh drove me home," I added.

I made some small talk and went to grab some water to rehydrate. Then I made my way up to my bedroom. There was a text from Mr. Walsh.

"I had a great time, young man," it read.

I smiled and typed. "Me too, Tom. Amazing." I was nervous texting a man much older than me like this, afraid I'd get him in trouble. But with all that was going on in the Walsh household maybe that was the least of anyone's worries.

"They're still going at it, by the way," Tom wrote.

"I wish I'd stayed for round two," I wrote. The man could tell me if I had to be more discreet.

"Ha, I bet. I don't think I could have handled a second round. Sorry, Luke."

"Nothing to be sorry about sir. I'm still on cloud nine."

We sent each other some more texts, but soon called it a night.

***

Tate found out the following week. He gave me the silent treatment and it was the end of our little posse. Or at least my participation in it. I hung out some with Mac still, but mostly the guys spent their summer together, without me. I was a little bummed, but it was inevitable. I was moving away in a couple of months anyway.

And, yeah, I did lose my cherry to Mr. Walsh. We didn't become boyfriends or anything. But we had a hell of a lot of fun that summer. Including a few time with his golf buddy joining.

It was an auspicious start to my college years, but that's another story.

[luveline]

Hi, I’ve never sent a request before so forgive me if this sounds weird I’m still learning how to use Tumblr lol but what if Eddie and reader go to Roan’s school for parent-teacher conference and her teacher shows them something Roan wrote or made expressing how much she loves her new mom and her new little family🩷 and reader cries from how happy and loved Roan and Eddie make her feel🥹

ty for ur request, it doesn't sound weird at all! eddie and roan —you and eddie attend roan's PT conference, stepmother!reader, 1.2k

You hide from the biting winter wind in Eddie's side. “Is it supposed to be this cold?” you ask. 

“You sound surprised. It's December,” he says, though he puts his arm over your shoulders to cover as much of you as he can. “I told you to wear a coat.” 

“The coat ruins my outfit,” you say. 

“You being cold ruins the outfit.” He nods towards the step up into the school building. “You could say the outfit ruins what's underneath–” 

“What's wrong with you?”  

“An appreciation for my wife?” 

“Stop saying that, you're confusing people. Steve asked me last night if we got married in private–” 

“You're always talking to Steve,” Eddie complains, “he doesn't even call me anymore, he just wants to talk to you.” 

He'd called to ask if he was still babysitting, actually, but Eddie wouldn't know that because he and Roan had been playing monsters at the time, speaking to each other in gruff tones while they made sandwiches for dinner. 

“You have a problem.” 

Eddie can't decide whether to bicker or dote, squeezing you tightly, a promise about new problems lost to the growing ruckus of the elementary school after hours. Some parents have brought their children, but the majority stand chatting in lines to see the teachers. You and Eddie have come through the main entrance of the building rather than the side door where Roan enters, and the walk to Mrs. Lundy's room is longer than usual, though far from unpleasant. Light shines through the windows where a rainbow of creatures have been painted, leaving glowing shapes of apricot, cerulean, and lilac on your skin as you pass. 

“You're like a Christmas tree,” Eddie says. 

“I just need some tinsel.” You point at the decorations hanging from Mrs. Lundy's doorway. “Like that.” 

“You want some tinsel? I'll get you some tinsel, baby, just give me a minute. And maybe distract her.” 

You refuse to help him steal from Mrs. Lundy, and spend your time in line waiting with his hands held firmly in yours to prohibit any theft. Eddie moans about being jailed but is otherwise content. He quite likes it, actually, rearranging your fingers to stroke your knuckles. 

Mrs. Lundy is smiling, happy to see you and brag about your girl. She starts with Roan's general education, her behaviour, her grades, though this young she doesn't have grades so much as milestones. Roan is smart but no wizz kid (not that you care), she's kind (but not always good at sharing), she's loud, and rambunctious, a great artist, and she's very, very happy. 

“She talks about your wedding all the time. Every day. She tells us she's going to be the flower girl, and the best man, and that she has a beautiful dress.” Mrs. Lundy beams. “She's walking on sunshine.” The teacher's smile turns soft, almost wistful. “Well, she's Roan. You know what she's like better than I do.” 

Your cheeks ache with pride. 

“She's a good kid,” Eddie says. 

“Yes!” Mrs. Lundy reaches across the desk for a turquoise-coloured folder. “There was actually something I wanted to share with you both… You know we have creative writing assignments, and obviously we help them with making real sentences, but what she has to say is very much of her own volition.” 

Mrs. Lundy pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and puts it down in front of your hands. “The prompt was what makes you happy,” she says. 

The first sentence is simple. 

My mommy. 

A drawing of you decorates the page above the lines, so clearly you, your smile wide and pink. 

My mommy is kind and I love her. Dad sayd the wedding is speshul becase he loves her, but she will be my mom. She makes me so happy. Mommy says she loves me all of the time, and she brushus my hair. My best part of the day is when Y/N comes home and hugs me. We are so happy, and Lucky gets dinner. I love my dad too, and Uncle Wayn. 

Her spelling errors have been corrected in green pen, and her backwards letters are written forwards for her to copy. You read the entire paragraph in a blur, thinking about how long it must've taken her to get it all down, nearly an entire page in her bubbly handwriting, big letters running off of the page. 

“Needless to say,” Mrs. Lundy says, “that most children write about their families, or their pets, or their toys. But Roan was extremely focused on the word love. She's clearly going home to a loving home every night.” Mrs. Lundy smiles at Eddie. You nearly miss it, reading the paragraph again, and then a third time. 

“Can I take this?” you ask, clearing your throat, tears brewed and bobbing on your waterline, desperate to be shed. “Is that okay?” 

Eddie laughs and elbows you in the arm. “Come on, it's hardly news.” 

You wipe your eyes before you can cry in front of them both. “I'm sorry, just– can I?” 

Mrs. Lundy beams again, emphasising the well-worn smile lines at the corners of her lips and creasing beside her eyes. 

You hold it together well for a little while. Eddie talks over your wobbly silence, a hand on your shoulder, assuring Mrs. Lundy that you're all, in fact, very happy, and he's just glad that Roan is being a good student and friend to her classmates. Mrs. Lundy's kindness and Roan's love letter to you has knocked you entirely off kilter, and you're crying before you've reached the car. They're happy tears. 

“Come on,” Eddie says, taking the paper you've folded carefully from your fingers as they clench. “She's said nicer to you in person.” 

And sure she has. Roan loves hitting you with the saccharine when you're not expecting it. Drying her hair after bath time, totally distracted, she'll kiss your cheek and say, “You're so pretty.” She sprinkles I love you's wherever they'll fit like her dad does, and she shows it with little gifts and cuddles and invitations. Y/N, do you want to have a fashion show with me? Y/N, can we have ice cream in bed? Can I do your hair, please, mommy? 

“It's different. It's different,” you insist, scrambling to find the words. “She's…” You rub your eyes. Your makeup is smudging, but you can't help it. “I don't even know what to say.” 

Eddie shrugs. Lean shoulders, a loving arm behind your back, the car in sight but getting no closer, he comforts you in the middle of the parking lot while the passing headlights kiss your shoes. “You know how much she loves you, babe. This is a good thing, right? You're not upset?” 

“Not upset,” you clarify. 

“Okay, good. Is this a bad time for me to say that I am profoundly jealous right now? I used to get all the drawings and cards, I used to get Mother's day gifts. I have a mother's day card up in the attic… might have to get it out,” —he kisses your cheek— “just to cope.” 

You laugh through a sniffle. “Let's go get it,” you say. 

He presses Roan's assignment back into your hand. “You can keep that one, but don't get it out around me. I'm serious.”