#and then sit down. put the peas on his black eye. AND THEN say the line

[technicoloranimalviolence]

"nutboy" i'm sure you genuinely like keeping ppl safe. but don't u hate it when you get hurt?

[aeralux]

"Easy Going Down" - Jacaerys Velaryon

Modern!Jacaerys x Stepsister!Reader

Summary: Jacaerys and you have never gotten along very well ever since his mom and your dad got together. However, you both tolerate one another, staying out of each other's way. But this night, Jace has had enough of your defiant attitude, lashing out at you. Obviously, you decide to pay him back.

Warnings: SMUT; nasty and filthy language; dub!con (they both want it tbh); stepcest; both are mean to each other; masturbation; oral (m!receiving); degradation; name calling; rough sex; breeding kink lowk (he cums inside); fluffy ending; taboo relationship; reader admits to sleeping around; drugging? (reader uses Viagra on Jace, as payback);

Words: 11.7k

Notes: English is not my first language. This is hella 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (regarding the language used). They are not blood-related in this story. No descriptions of Reader and no use of (y/n). If you are uncomfortable with any of the warnings, please do NOT read it. Thank you.

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Jacaerys sits engaged in his studies in his room. Still, the constant pop music blaring from his stepsister's room soon distracts him. The loud tunes echo in the hallway, quickly becoming a source of frustration. He feels his aggravation bubbling inside him as he struggles to concentrate on his assignment.

"Why does she always have to blast that ridiculous music?" he says to himself, gritting his teeth. His patience is wearing thin, and he can no longer disregard the noise that seems intentionally designed to irritate him. Taking a deep breath to calm his rising anger, Jacaerys stands up and heads toward the door.

Walking to your room, he reflects on how much you frustrate him. "Why is she even awake? I still don’t understand why she needs to be so loud. Can’t she be a little more considerate?" The mix of irritation and anger boils within him as he approaches her door.

He knocks, but the music continues to drown out everything else. "Just fantastic," he mutters to himself, and at that moment, he realizes that his patience has completely evaporated. Jacaerys flings the door open, bracing himself to demand that she lower the volume. Still, he’s hit with a wave of anger that makes the whole predicament even worse. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for a confrontation.

"Hey, turn that music down," he demands. He lacks the composure to simply ask, and in that instant, his emotions take charge. Jacaerys is fully prepared for an argument, knowing that this encounter won't go smoothly.

You were dancing in your room, clad in your baby blue panties and a loose white tee. The music was blasting, the beat thumping through your veins as you moved to the rhythm. It had been a long, tiring day, and you just needed to let loose, to forget about everything.

Your hair swayed with each twist and turn of your body as you lost yourself in the beats of Black Eyed Peas, a classic. You finally felt somewhat better, like the cool, carefree girl everyone sees you as. Nothing else mattered except the music and the feeling of the air against your skin.

Suddenly, your 'party' was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. You didn't need to look to know it was Jace. He always had a knack for ruining your fun. But you didn't let it phase you. Instead, you turned up the volume, your grin turning wicked as you faced him.

You continued to dance, lipsyncing the words with exaggerated passion, putting on a show just to annoy him. His face contorted with anger, his brows furrowing. You had to bite back a laugh as he got angrier while you just kept twirling around like an exotic dancer.

"What? Not used to actually good music?"

Jacaerys stands in the doorway, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight before him. His stepsister is dancing in nothing but her underwear, your body moving sensually to the music. He feels a wave of anger wash over him, mixed with a hint of something else... something he doesn't want to acknowledge.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he shouts over the music, his voice dripping with contempt. "You can't just blast your shitty music at all hours of the night!"

He takes a step into the room, his eyes never leaving your body. He tries to look away, trying to focus on the anger bubbling up inside him, but he can't help but stare. Your curves are mesmerizing, your skin glowing in the dim light of her bedroom.

"And put some fucking clothes on!" he adds, his voice rising. "You look like a cheap whore!"

The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth, but he can't take them back. He knows they're cruel, but he's too angry to care. He hates you, hates how you have invaded his life, his home. And now you're dancing around half-naked, taunting him with your body.

"Don't you know I'm trying to study?" he shouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you have any idea how annoying you are?"

He's breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, he can't seem to look away from you, can't stop watching you move. Jace clenches his fists, trying to ignore the way your breasts are visible through the light-coloured tee and the way your panties hug your hips.

You stop dancing and glare at him, your lips pursed together. You abruptly shut off the music, the sudden silence deafening.

"Get out!" You yell, furious at his degrading words. You know you pissed him off, but he's never called you names like that before. What's gotten into him?

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your state of undress. But you refuse to let him see that he's gotten under your skin. You keep your chin raised defiantly, meeting his angry gaze head-on.

"You're the one who barged in here unannounced," you snap. "Maybe if you knocked first, you wouldn't have seen anything. But apparently, you just can't help yourself when it comes to invading my privacy."

You turn away from him in disgust, not wanting to look at him anymore. Your heart is pounding and you feel your cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. You can't believe he said those things to you. He's never been so cruel before.

Jacaerys feels a pang of guilt as he sees the hurt in your eyes, but he quickly pushes it down. You're the enemy, the intruder in his life. He can't let himself feel sorry for you.

"Oh, so it's my fault now?" he scoffs, taking another step into the room. "I'm the one who can't help myself? You're the one who's always prancing around half-naked, just begging for attention."

He reaches out and grabs your arm, turning you to face him. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin and can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. It's intoxicating, and he hates himself for noticing.

"Listen, you little bitch," he sneers, his face inches from yours. "I'm in charge here, not you. You don't get to do whatever you want, whenever you want. There are rules in this house, and you're going to start following them."

He can see the rage in your eyes, the way you grit your teeth. But he doesn't let go. He wants to show you who's boss, wants to make you submit to him.

"Now put some fucking clothes on and stay out of my way," he growls, giving your arm a rough shake. "And if I hear that music again, there will be consequences."

Jacaerys' grip is rough as he grabs your arm, and you can feel his nails digging into your skin. You grit your teeth, trying to suppress the wince of pain. His closeness is suffocating, his hot breath on your face making you light-headed.

"Get. Out." You spit the words at him, ripping your arm free. The movement leaves angry red marks on your skin, a physical reminder of his bruising hold.

In the past, you would have run straight to Dad. His presence loomed large, always ready to swoop in and protect you. But not this time. The air between you is different now, charged with a new dynamic since his relationship with Jace's mother. No, Dad won't interfere this time.

You are on your own.

Something stirs inside you. A spark of anger, of determination. You won't let him bully you, won't let him treat you like you're nothing just because it's his house.

A smirk plays at the corners of your mouth as a plan takes shape in your mind. Oh, you'll make him pay for this. You'll make him regret ever laying a hand on you.

"Now," you hiss, your voice low and dangerous. "Get out of my room before I scream. And if you ever touch me again, I will cut your dick off and fuck your face with it."

You watch as he hesitates, his eyes flashing with rage and something else, something you can't quite place. But he backs down, turning and storming out of the room.

You slam the door behind him, leaning against it heavily. Your heart races and your breaths come in short gasps. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. But for now, you've made your stand. And you will get the better of him.

Jace storms out of your room, slamming the door behind him with a loud bang that echoes through the hallway. His hands are shaking, his heart racing. He can still feel the heat of your skin under his fingers, and can still smell the intoxicating aroma of your perfume.

"Fuck!" he shouts, punching the wall in frustration. Pain shoots through his hand, but he barely notices. All he can think about is you - your defiance, your attitude, your goddamn body.

He knows he shouldn't have touched you, knows he crossed a line. But he couldn't help himself. You were just so... there, so tempting. And he hates himself for it.

Jace takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He can't let you get to him like this, can't let you see that you have any kind of power over him. He's the one in charge, not you.

But even as he tells himself this, he knows it's not true. You have a hold over him, a power he can't quite explain. And it terrifies him.

He stalks back to his room, slamming the door behind him. He needs to clear his head and focus on something else—anything else.

But as he sits down at his desk, trying to force himself to concentrate on his homework, all he can think about is you. The way you looked at him, the way you smelled, the way your skin felt under his fingers.

He groans in frustration, burying his face in his hands. This is going to be a long night.

Jace slammed the door and before you could think, you were screaming, hurling the nearest object you could grab - your half-empty water glass - right at the wooden barrier separating you. It shatters on impact, scattering shards across the floor.

You pant heavily, your vision swimming with a red haze of fury. Those red marks on your arm are a throbbing reminder of his cruelty. How dare he lay a finger on you, how dare he treat you like you're just some nuisance to be dealt with.

Cursing under your breath, you go to clean up the pieces of glass, hissing as a few sharp slivers embed themselves in your fingertips. It hurts, but you grit your teeth and keep sweeping.

Tomorrow, you vow to yourself. Tomorrow, he's gonna learn not to underestimate you. And there's no one to stop you this time. No dad to intervene, no mom to play peacemaker, and no Lucerys to come to his defence.

Just you. And you know exactly how to make him pay. That smug, cocky expression on his face will be wiped right off when you're through with him. He'll be begging for mercy.

A wicked smile curls your lips as you imagine all the ways you can make Jace suffer. Oh, it's gonna be so satisfying to bring him to his knees. He'll regret the day he ever laid a hand on you.

Jace hears the crash of glass, followed by your muffled screaming. He knows you're angry, knows he pushed you too far. But he can't bring himself to care. All he can think about is the feel of your skin. It's driving him crazy.

He paces his room, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He hates you, but he can't deny the attraction he feels. It's eating him alive, consuming every thought. He's never felt this way before, never been so torn between lust and disdain.

Jace stops in front of his mirror, staring at his reflection. He looks like shit - his hair is a mess, his eyes are wild. He looks like he's losing his mind. And maybe he is. Because all he can think about is you, touching you, claiming you as his own.

He slams his fist against the wall, feeling the sting of pain in his knuckles. But it's not enough. Nothing is enough to quench this fire burning inside him. He needs you, needs to overpower you, needs to take you like an animal and make you into an obedient bunny.

Jace strips off his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. He's been working out like crazy lately, trying to blow off steam. But it's not working. Nothing is working. Except the thought of you, naked and helpless under him.

He reaches down, palming himself through his shorts. He's already hard, already aching for release. But he knows it won't be enough. Nothing will be enough until he has you.

Jace collapses onto his bed, his body tense with need. He wants to hate you, wants to push you away. But he can't. All he can do is lie here, imagining all the ways he's going to make you his.

His cock is hard and aching, straining against the confines of his boxers. He reaches down, stroking himself slowly, imagining it's your hand on him instead of his own.

Jace groans, his hips thrusting up into his hand as he imagines you touching him. In his mind, you're naked and wet, your body pressed against his, your lips trailing kisses down his chest.

"Fuck," he moans, his name for you falling from his lips like a prayer. He's always tried to resist you, always tried to push you away. But now, he can't fight it any longer. He needs you, needs to feel you, needs to claim you as his own.

He thinks about barging into your room again, pinning you against the wall, tearing your clothes off with his bare hands. He wants to touch you, to taste you, to make you scream his name in pleasure and pain.

Jace speeds up his strokes, his cock throbbing in his hand. He's close, so fucking close. Just a little more and he'll explode, will paint his chest with his seed like a fucking teenage boy.

"Oh, yes, fuck," he pants, his eyes rolling back in his head as he imagines you riding him, your tits bouncing in his face. He wants to grab them, to suck on your nipples until you're begging for more.

With a final groan, Jace comes, his cock pulsing in his hand as he shoots his load all over his stomach. He lies there for a moment, catching his breath, his body still tingling with pleasure.

Unable to drift off, you pop a melatonin and collapse onto the bed, giddy with anticipation for tomorrow. You just have to act normal and bide your time patiently. With your mind foggy from the drowsiness, you struggle to recall clever quotes about patience. Ah well, you'll just have to exercise some restraint until the moment is right. Tomorrow, Jace will get a taste of his own medicine.

The next morning, Jace wakes up feeling groggy and exhausted. He can still feel the ache in his cock, the memory of his fantasy still fresh in his mind. He rolls over, burying his face in his pillow to muffle a groan.

He knows he shouldn't have done that, knows he shouldn't be thinking about you that way. But he can't help it. You're always on his mind, always tempting him, always challenging him.

Jace gets out of bed, and heads to the bathroom to shower. As he strips off his clothes, he catches sight of the cum stains on his boxers from last night. He feels a sense of shame washes over him, followed by a surge of anger.

"Fuck," he mutters, balling up the underwear and throwing it in the hamper. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

He turns on the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his body. But even as he scrubs himself clean, he can't shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He imagines you in the shower with him, your hands sliding over his slick skin, your lips on his neck.

Jace groans, his cock stiffening again. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around it, stroking it slowly. He thinks about you, about how you'll look when he finally breaks you when he makes you submit to him completely.

He's close, so fucking close, when he hears a knock at the bathroom door.

"Jace, hurry up!" his brother Lucerys calls out. "We're leaving!"

Jace curses under his breath, releasing his cock reluctantly. He finishes his shower quickly, towelling off in a hurry. As he heads to his room to get dressed, getting ready to bid his brother and parents goodbye, he wonders what kind of shit you'll pull today.

You head downstairs as well, your heart fluttering with excitement as you watch your family leave for their weekend trip. You give them each a quick hug, your smile a little too bright, your eyes a little too eager. They say their goodbyes, reminding Jace and you to study hard for your upcoming finals.

You turn to Jace, who's engrossed in conversation with Lucerys. You seize your chance. Slipping into the kitchen, you retrieve the Viagra pill you'd tucked away in your pocket earlier. Your hands shake slightly as you open the capsule, pouring the powdered contents into Jace's glass of coffee. You stir it smoothly, erasing any trace of your tampering.

A wicked smile plays across your lips as you picture what will happen next. Jace, oblivious, will gulp down his spiked drink, blissfully unaware of the chemical coursing through his veins. And when the effects hit, oh, how delicious his suffering will be. The smug boy finally brought low by his own lust, enslaved by a desire he can't control.

Part of you feels a twinge of guilt for drugging him without consent, but your desire for revenge overshadows it.

Jace finishes his breakfast, gulping down the last of his coffee. As he starts to work on his History paper, he feels a strange sensation wash over him, a tingling warmth spreading through his body. He stands up, heading to the sink to rinse his cup.

But as he walks, he feels a sudden tightness in his groin. He looks down, shocked to see his cock hardening in his pants. What the fuck? He hasn't even seen you yet, and he's already hard? He can barely walk, his legs trembling with the effort of holding back his orgasm.

"Fuck," he groans, pressing his thighs together. His cock is rock hard, throbbing painfully against his zipper. He can feel it pulsing, almost like a heartbeat.

He stumbles back to the sofa, sitting down heavily. He can feel his heart racing, his skin flushed with heat. He knows he shouldn't be feeling this way, knows he should be focused on anything but you. But he can't help it. All he can think about is you, about your body, about fucking you until you scream.

Jace shifts in his seat, trying to adjust himself discreetly. But it's no use. His cock is throbbing, aching for release. He looks around, making sure you are nowhere near.

"Fuck," he mutters, reaching down to palm himself through his jeans. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, and knows he should stop before he loses control. But he can't. He needs to cum, needs to relieve the pressure building inside him. Jace is a mess. His cock is leaking steadily, soaking through his boxers and making a damp spot on his jeans. 

He slides his hand into his pants, pulling his cock out and wrapping his hand around it. He's so hard it hurts, so fucking horny he can barely think straight. He starts stroking himself, biting his lip to keep from making a sound.

Jace's mind is filled with thoughts of you, of your body, of your touch. He imagines you walking in on him like this, seeing the shock in your eyes as you realize what he's doing. He pictures you dropping to your knees, taking his cock in your mouth like a good little slut.

"Oh, fuck," he moans, his hips thrusting up into his hand. He's so close, so fucking close. Just a little more and he'll explode.

You crouch behind the wall on the staircase, eyeing Jace through the gap. There he is, the always arrogant Jacaerys, pumping himself like a horny teenager. You can't help but smirk, feeling a thrill at seeing him so undone. But you can't ignore the dampening between your legs at the sight of his toned arm wrapped around his thick shaft...No! You shake your head. 

You need to stick to the plan.

You stride into the living room, calling out in mock shock, "Ew! Seriously?!" You point accusingly at his hard leaking cock in his fist. "So I'm a 'cheap whore' for dancing in my room, but you can just whip it out and whack off anywhere?!"

You lay into him mercilessly, your voice dripping with disdain. "What are you, some kind of sick pervert? Jerking off where your innocent step-sister could walk in on you? God, you're disgusting!"

You know you shouldn't take such delight in humiliating him, but you can't help the wicked satisfaction curling within you as you watch his face flush with shame and anger. He looks like a scolded child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Get your act together, Jace," you scold, your voice laced with faux-concern. "This isn't appropriate behaviour."

Jace's eyes widen in shock as he hears your voice, his heart pounding. He's caught, exposed, his worst nightmare come true. He scrambles to cover himself, his face burning with shame and anger.

"Get out!" he shouts, his voice cracking with embarrassment. "Get the fuck out of here!"

But you don't move, just stand there with that smug look on your face. He can see the evil glint in your eyes, the way you're looking at him like he's some kind of pervert.

"Fuck you," he spits, his cock still throbbing painfully in his hand. "This is none of your business."

But even as he says it, he knows it's a lie. Everything about him is your business now, whether he likes it or not. You're in his life, in his head, in his fucking cock. And he hates it, hates you, hates everything about this situation.

He looks down at his crotch, seeing the wet spot on his toned stomach, the sticky strands of precum leaking from his tip. He feels like a fucking animal, like a dog in heat. And you're standing there, watching him, judging him.

"Get out," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Get the fuck out of here before I lose my temper."

But even as he says it, he knows it's a hollow threat. He's too weak, too desperate.

Jace's hand is still wrapped around his dick, his fingers slick with pre-cum. He can feel it dripping down his shaft, making a sticky mess of his boxers. He's so fucking hard it hurts, so desperate to cum that he can barely think straight.

"Just leave me alone," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I'll make you leave."

You bite your lip, looking at his aching cock, making a mess all over himself. "Aww..." you coo, pouting your pink lips. "Look at you, you're so horny, you can't even think straight. Your cock is leaking all over you."

You tease him with faux regard, your eyes gleaming with amusement. "What a mess you are, Jace. You really need to learn some self-control."

Jace glares at you, his eyes narrowing with anger and embarrassment. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the shame burning through his body. He knows he looks pathetic, and knows that you're enjoying every second of his humiliation.

"Shut up," he snarls, his hand tightening around his cock. "Just shut the fuck up."

But even as he says it, he can't tear his eyes away from you. You're so fucking beautiful, so perfect in every way. And you're staring at him like he's some kind of freak, some kind of pervert.

He wants to hate you, wants to push you away, wants to make you suffer for what you've done to him. But he can't. All he can do is stare at you, his heart pounding in his chest, his cock throbbing in his hand.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, his voice low and vicious. "I bet you love this, don't you? Love seeing me like this, all pathetic and desperate."

His hand is moving faster now, stroking his cock with frantic, needy movements. He's so close, so fucking close to exploding. He just needs a little more, just a little more friction.

"I bet you're getting wet right now," he growls, his eyes locked on yours. "I bet you're picturing me fucking you, aren't you? Fucking you like the dirty whore you are."

He's not thinking straight, not thinking at all. All he can focus on is you, your body, your touch. He needs you, needs to dominate you, needs to make you submit to him completely.

"Come here," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Get on your fucking knees and suck my cock like a good little slut."

He knows it's a mistake, knows he shouldn't be saying this. But he can't help it. The drug is clouding his mind, making him say and do things he never would normally do.

"Do it," he commands, his voice harsh and demanding. "Get over here and put that pretty little mouth to work."

Your breath catches in your throat as Jace's filthy words wash over you. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, your panties growing damp with arousal. You never expected this, never thought he would affect you like this.

"N-no," you stammer, your voice trembling. You press your thighs together, trying to ignore the ache building in your core. You shouldn't want this, shouldn't want him. But you do, so badly.

You can feel your nipples hardening beneath your shirt. You know you should leave, should get away from him before it's too late. But you can't seem to make your feet move.

You can feel your juices trickling down your thighs, your panties clinging to your slick folds. You're so wet, so desperate for his touch. You know you should be disgusted by your desires, but you can't be. Not when Jace is looking at you like that, his eyes dark with lust and hunger.

Jace's eyes are burning with desire, his gaze raking over your body like he wants to devour you whole. He can see the way your nipples are hardening beneath your shirt, the way your breasts are swelling with need. He knows you're turned on, knows you want him just as badly as he wants you.

"Fuck," he growls, his hand speeding up on his cock. "You're so fucking hot. I bet you're dripping wet right now, aren't you? Bet you're aching for my cock."

He spreads his legs wider, giving you a clear view of his throbbing cock. It's swollen and red, the tip dripping with pre-cum. He knows it would feel so good inside your tight pussy, stretching you, filling you, claiming you.

He takes a step towards you, his hips thrusting into his hand. His cock is throbbing, dripping with pre-cum.

"Get on your knees and worship me," he demands, his eyes burning into yours. "Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you need my cock."

He knows it's immoral, knows he shouldn't be saying these things. But he can't stop, can't control himself. The medication is making him wild, making him say and do things he never would before.

He knows it's a challenge, and knows that you won't be able to resist. He can see the way your eyes are locked on his cock, the way your tongue is darting out to wet your lips.

"Come and get it," he taunts, his voice thick with desire. "Come and show me how much you want to be my little cock sleeve."

"Do it," he demands, his eyes boring into yours. "Get on your knees and suck my fucking cock."

He's moving closer now, his cock bobbing obscenely in front of him. He can smell your arousal and can see the way your body is shaking with need.

"Fucking. Do. It," he snarls, his hand tightening around his shaft. "Or I'll fucking make you."

He's so close, so fucking close to losing control completely. If you don't obey him, if you don't give him what he needs, he might just snap. Might just grab you and take what he wants, consequences be damned.

He's going to make you submit to him, make you his own personal fuck toy. He's going to use you, abuse you, make you beg for his cock.

"Now," he snarls, his hand tightening around his shaft. "Before I lose my fucking patience."

You take a small step back, shaking your head as if to clear it. "No, Jace... this is wrong," you say, trying to sound firm even as your body betrays you. Fuck, why does he have to be so hot? Every fibre of your being is screaming at you to drop to your knees and worship that massive cock.

The sight of Jace stroking himself, his eyes dark with lust, is enough to make your head spin. You want him so badly, want to feel that thick shaft stretching your throat, fucking your face until you're gagging and drooling all over yourself.

But you can't. You won't. No matter how much your body craves it, you know this is wrong. He's your stepbrother, for fuck's sake. You can't do this, can't cross this line.

You take another step back, your heart pounding in your chest. You were so close to giving in, so close to letting all of your inhibitions melt away.

"Jace, please," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't do this. It's not right." Trying to sound commanding, but it sounds like a pathetic whimper.

Jace's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching with anger. He can't believe you're rejecting him, can't believe you're turning him down after everything his family has done for you. He's been nothing but patient to you, nothing but kind and generous. And this is how you repay him? By denying him what he needs most?

"Fuck you," he spits, his hand tensing around his cock. "You think you're better than me? Think you can just walk away?"

He takes a step towards you, his eyes burning with rage. He knows you're unconvinced. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is his own need, his own desperate hunger.

"I own you," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to me. And I won't let you go until I'm satisfied."

He lunges forward, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you towards him. He pulls you close, his body pressing against yours, his cock rubbing against your stomach.

"You're mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll fucking violate your throat until you're begging for more. And you'll enjoy every second of it."

He shoves you to your knees, his hand tangling in your hair. He pulls your head back, forcing you to look up at him.

"Open your mouth," he demands, his cock pressing against your lips. "Put that pretty little mouth to work and show me how sorry you are."

You stare up at Jace with wide, shocked eyes. The sweet, charming stepbrother that you know has transformed into someone so cruel, so aggressive. But despite yourself, you can't deny the slick pooling between your thighs at his vulgar words and forceful actions.

With trembling fingers, you place your hands on his muscular thighs, steadying yourself. Slowly, obediently, you part your pink, glossy lips and stick out your tongue, offering your mouth to him. Your heart pounds wildly in anticipation of what he might do.

Jace grins down at you, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark lust. He grips your hair tighter, practically yanking you forward to take his throbbing cock. "That's it, slut. Open wide for your stepbrother."

He slaps his heavy, veiny shaft against your cheek and lips, smearing sticky pre-cum on your soft skin. The musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils. "Mmm, yeah, gonna train you with my dick. Gonna wreck your throat with it."

Grabbing your jaw, Jace forces his fat cockhead past your lips, stretching them obscenely. "Ffffuck..." he groans at the tight, wet heat engulfing him. He bucks his hips, ramming several inches of thick cockmeat down your throat.

Your eyes bulge and water as he hits the back of your throat, making you gag and sputter around his invading length. Drool leaks from the corners of your stretched mouth. Jace's heavy balls smack against your chin.

"Take it, bitch!" he snarls, eyes wild with lust. "Choke on my fucking cock! Gonna use your throat like a fleshlight." He yanks your head forward, burying his dick to the hilt in your convulsing oesophagus.

Holding you in place, Jace starts savagely pistoning his hips, sawing his huge cock in and out of your abused throat. Your eyes roll back, drool splattering your tits as he uses your face like a cocksleeve. "Ungh, fuck, so good!" he grunts, grunting and sweating. "Best. Throat. Ever!"

Spit-roasted and choking, you can only gurgle helplessly as he breaks your throat. "Look at me," he demands, his voice rough with lust. "Look at me while I fuck your throat."

You force your eyes open, looking up at him through your tears. He's looking down at you with a wild, feral expression, his eyes burning with a hunger that terrifies and thrills you.

"You like this, don't you?" he asks, his voice low and cruel. "Like being used like a fucking toy. Like being my personal cum dumpster."

He pulls out suddenly, his cock slipping from your lips. You gasp for air, coughing and sputtering. But before you can recover, he's shoving back in, fucking your throat with renewed vigour.

"I'm going to ruin you," he promises, his hand tightening in your hair. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Until you're nothing but a set of holes for me to use."

You moan around his thick cock, the vibrations travelling up his shaft as your throat constricts around him. Wet, obscene noises fill the room - the sloppy sounds of spit and drool as he uses your mouth like a disposable fucktoy

Gasping desperately, you pull off his cock for a moment, lungs burning. You gaze up at him with huge, tearful eyes, mascara smeared down your flushed cheeks. "Jace..." you whine pathetically, your voice is scratchy and broken.

You trail your delicate fingers along his chiselled abdomen and strong thighs, a soft apology. Your nails lightly scrape his heated skin, silently pleading for mercy. But your sorrowful puppy dog eyes hold a dark, masochistic thrill - you love being used like his personal fleshlight.

Jace chuckles darkly, his hand still fisted in your hair. "You look so cute when you're choking on my cock," he sneers. "Like a pretty little whore. My pretty girl."

He tugs your head forward, forcing you back onto his massive dick. Your nose presses against his pubic bone as he bottoms out in your throat.

"No more talking," Jace growls. "Just take it like a good little step-slut."

He starts face-fucking you with cruel intensity, hips slapping against your face. Drool pours from your stretched lips, making a further mess of your tits. He yanks your hair, forcing you to deepthroat him over and over.

"Fuck yes, gag on it," he pants harshly. "Choke on your stepbrother's fat cock."

Spit sprays from your mouth as he ruthlessly pounds your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut, tears streaming down your face. But you look up at him with a perverse, masochistic adoration.

Jace leers down at you wickedly. "Take it all, you filthy throat slut. Milk my cock with your whore throat."

He holds your head down, burying his dick as deep as it can go. Your throat spasms around him, convulsing as you struggle for air. But he keeps you pinned, using your mouth like a warm, wet fleshlight.

Pulling out suddenly, Jace rips you off his cock. A flood of drool and pre-cum pours out of your used hole. You gasp and splutter, trying to catch your breath.

"You love this, don't you?" Jace sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "Love being treated like a cheap fucktoy. Like a set of holes for me to use."

He slaps your cheek with his wet, veiny cock. "Go on, slut. Clean my dick."

You obediently wrap your lips around his cockhead, suckling gently. You lap up the mixture of pre-cum and saliva, savouring the taste of his essence.

"Mmmm..." you moan around his leaking tip.

Jace shudders as your tongue swirls around his sensitive cockhead, your lips making little kisses along his shaft. "Ohh fuck, that's it," he groans. "You’ve done this before, haven’t you? On your knees for some man who just wants to use you for your mouth and ass?”

You whimper softly as you clean Jace's thick shaft with your tongue, slurping up the mix of your spit and his pre-cum. Your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in the sensation.

But his degrading words sting, making you scowl around his throbbing cock. You want to show him how much more experienced you are than he realizes.

Releasing his dick from your lips with a wet pop, you shift to nuzzle his heavy, cum-filled balls. Your tongue darts out to lap at the wrinkled skin, stroking his veiny shaft at the same time.

"Ohh Jace," you coo sultrily, your warm breath washing over his sensitive sack. "Do you want to cum on your pretty little sister's face? Be a dirty pervert and paint me like a cheap whore?"

You roll his big balls in your mouth, suckling gently as you pump his cock with your soft hand. Your fingertips dance teasingly over his weeping slit, making him twitch and throb.

"Mmmm...I'll be such a good girl for you, brother. Just tell me where you want to cum. My mouth? My tits? All over my slutty face?"

Jace groans, his head falling back as you worship his most intimate areas. Your warm, wet mouth and soft hands feel amazing on his heavy sack and throbbing cock.

"F-fuck..." he stammers, his eyes squeezing shut. "You're so good at this. Have you practised much? On your ex-boyfriends?"

His abs flex as you tongue his balls, your hand pumping his slick shaft. "Dirty girl," he pants. "Bet you've sucked off lots of boys before. Bet you love it."

You glance up at him through your lashes, your eyes dark with lust. "Maybe I have," you purr, your hand speeding up. "Maybe I can't control myself around big, hard cocks. Maybe I just need to be filled up and used like the slut I am."

Jace groans, his cock throbbing in your soft hand as your tongue and lips worship his heavy balls. The sight of you nuzzling and sucking them, combined with the depraved words tumbling from your lips, has his cock swelling even larger.

You release his balls with a wet pop, gazing up at him with sultry bedroom eyes. "I've dreamed about your cock, brother," you purr, pumping his shaft slowly. "Imagined you bending me over and fucking me like you own me."

"Fuck," he pants, his hips rocking slightly into your touch. "You're such a dirty little slut. Begging for your own stepbrother's cum."

He reaches down to fist his hand in your hair, guiding your head to his groin. "Open up, whore. Let me feed you my cock."

You obey eagerly, parting your glossy lips to accept his thick meat. He slides over your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum flooding your mouth.

Jace starts fucking your face, his balls slapping against your spit-slick chin with each thrust. "Take it all, you filthy cumslut," he growls. "Choke on your stepbrother's fat cock."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat repeatedly, but you moan wantonly around his pistoning shaft. Drool leaks from the corners of your stretched lips, making a sticky mess of your chin and breasts.

"Mmmph!" you hum, the vibrations driving Jace wild. His grip tightens painfully in your hair as he starts bucking into your mouth with reckless abandon.

"Ohh fuuuck!" Jace throws his head back with a guttural groan. "Gonna fucking bust! Gonna paint your whore face with my load!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries his cock in your throat and unloads his seed directly into your belly. Hot spurts of thick, sticky cum shoot down your throat as he empties his heavy balls.

You whimper as Jace pulls his spent cock from your throat. Globs of his thick cum spill from your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your already ruined shirt. The fabric clings to your skin, damp with spit and his precum.

Wiping the cum from your face with trembling fingers, you bring them to your mouth and suck them clean with a sinful moan. Your body is on fire, desperate for more despite the ache in your throat.

You peel off your soiled top with quivering hands, revealing your perky tits glistening with dried fluids. Your pert nipples stiffen in the cool air, aching to be touched. You toss the shirt aside carelessly, uncaring of your state of undress.

You know he's not done with you yet. The drug has him in its thrall now, his need insatiable. Your pussy throbs, empty and needy. You present yourself to him, ready to be used again and again for his pleasure.

Jace drinks in the sight of your half-naked body, his eyes dark with lust and something more sinister. He circles you slowly, drinking in every curve and dip of your lithe form. His gaze lingers on your pert breasts, the peaks already pebbled with arousal.

He trails a single finger down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You shiver and arch into his touch, craving more. Jace chuckles lowly, the sound sending tingles across your skin.

"So desperate for it," he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "So eager to be filled by your own stepbrother's cock. What a dirty little slut you are."

His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his muscular body. You can feel his renewed erection pressing insistently against your ass, hard and heavy. He grinds against you, letting you feel exactly what he wants to do to you.

Jace's fingers dance across your sensitive skin, tracing teasing patterns over your hips and thighs. He nips at your earlobe, tugging it between his teeth. "Beg for it," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you like the filthy cumslut you are."

His words make you burn with shame and need, a combination that has you dizzy with want. You've never been spoken to like this before, treated like a piece of meat to be used for someone else's pleasure. But, god help you, you love it. Love being degraded and objectified by the man you've secretly craved for so long.

"Please Jace," you whimper, grinding back against his rigid length. "Please fuck me. I need it so bad. I need you to split me open on your big cock and make me yours."

Your shameless begging seems to inflame him further. With a low groan, Jace fists your hair, pushing you face-first onto the couch.

He looms over you, his eyes wild and hungry. "I'm going to ruin you," he promises darkly as he rips off your flimsy shorts and panties.

You yelp as Jace roughly pushes you down, your glistening holes exposed to his hungry gaze. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you feel his eyes devouring your most intimate places, watching the way they twitch and flutter with need. You can feel your arousal coating your inner thighs, your desperate cunt clenching around nothing.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, your mind reeling with a mix of shame and desire. You've never been so vulnerable before, so utterly at someone else's mercy. And yet, you've never wanted anything more than you want Jace to claim you in this moment, to make you his in every way possible.

You can feel his eyes raking over your body, taking in every curve and dip of your quivering form. It's as if he's memorizing every inch of you. You squirm under the intensity of his stare, your skin prickling with goosebumps.

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please Jace, I need you. I need you to split me open on your fat cock. I want to become your personal fleshlight, you can use me whenever you want, please."

Jace growls low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He runs his rough palm over the globes of your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. "Such a desperate little slut," he taunts, giving your cheek a sharp smack. "So eager to be used like a cheap whore."

You cry out at the sudden sting, your pussy clenching hungrily. Jace chuckles cruelly, rubbing the reddening skin. "You like that, don't you? Like being marked and claimed by your stepbrother."

He spreads your cheeks wider, exposing your twitching holes to his ravenous gaze. "Look at you, dripping for me already. Your cunt is practically begging to be fucked."

Jace notches the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, the blunt tip nudging your sensitive folds. "Brace yourself, slut," he warns, his voice a dark promise. "I'm going to fucking destroy this sweet little pussy."

With that, he slams his hips forward, burying his massive length inside you in one brutal thrust. You scream at the sudden intrusion, your body stretched to its limits around his girth. It feels like he's splitting you in half, the thick cockhead kissing your cervix.

Jace doesn't give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a punishing pace. He pounds into you with animalistic eagerness, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. The couch creaks dangerously beneath you, rocking with the force of his thrusts.

"Fuck, so tight," he rasps, his hips never faltering. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else. No one will ever make you feel as good as I do."

You can only whimper and moan, your mind short-circuiting with pleasure. It's too much, too intense. The feel of him claiming you so thoroughly, owning your body in the most primal way possible. It's everything you've ever wanted, even if you're too ashamed to admit it.

"Oh god, oh fuck!" You wail, your voice cracking with ecstasy. Jace's fat cock is stretching you beyond belief, filling you so completely that you can barely breathe. It feels like he's in your throat, splitting you open from the inside.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he pounds into you mercilessly, the couch groaning beneath your combined weight. You can't believe how good it feels, how right. Like you were made to be used by him, and him alone.

In your pleasure-drunk haze, the words spill from your lips without thought. "You're even bigger than your best friend," you moan dazedly, clenching around his pistoning length. "Fuck, you're ruining my pussy!"

The moment the comparison leaves your mouth, you realize your mistake.

Jace stills, his hips still buried deep inside you. "What did you just say?" he asks quietly, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Realization dawns on you, horrified. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you say THAT?! Now he knows! Now he'll stop, now he'll pull out and leave you empty and aching and you can't let that happen!

"I didn't mean it," you babble, desperate. "I was just saying stuff, I didn't mean anything by it!"

Jace pulls out abruptly, his cock slipping from your clenching hole with a lewd noise. You whimper at the loss, your body already missing his thick meat.

But then he's flipping you over, pushing you down onto your back. He looms over you, his eyes dark and fathomless. One large hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Who?" he asks, his voice low and menacing. "Who have you fucked? Who else has had this sweet little cunt?"

His other hand reaches down, his fingers brushing over your swollen, sensitive folds. You buck your hips instinctively, seeking more of his touch.

"Tell me," he commands, tightening his grip slightly. "Tell me who you've spread your legs for. I want names, pet."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You can't tell him the truth, can't admit to all the boys you've let use you. He'll hate you, he'll see you as nothing more than a dirty whore.

But then again, isn't that exactly what you are? A filthy cumslut desperate for any cock that will have you? Maybe this is your chance to finally be honest, to let him see the real you.

"I...I've fucked a lot of people," you whisper, your eyes downcast. "Guys from school, random hookups. I've let them all use me, brother. I'm nothing but a horny slut."

Jace's hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your air. "Did you enjoy it?"

You can barely breathe with Jace's hand around your throat, cutting off your air supply. Your lungs burn, and your vision starts to blur at the edges. But even through the haze of oxygen deprivation, you can feel the heat pooling in your core, your treacherous body responding to his show of dominance.

"Y-yes," you manage to choke out, your voice strained. "I loved it. Loved being used like a cheap whore, like a set of holes for them to fuck."

Jace's eyes flash with something dark and dangerous. His grip on your throat tightens even more, making spots dance across your vision. "Did you let them cum inside you? Fill you up with their seed like the dirty cumslut you are?"

You nod frantically, tears streaming down your face. "Yes, brother. So many times. I wanted to be claimed. Please, please fuck me. Use me like they did. I'm your filthy slut, yours to ruin."

Jace releases your throat abruptly, letting you gasp and cough, drawing in desperate gulps of air. He flips you back over onto your hands and knees, your ass presented to him like a bitch in heat.

"Spread yourself," he commands, giving your rear a sharp smack. "I want to see those slutty holes that have been so eagerly fucked."

You obey immediately, reaching back to spread your cheeks wide. Your swollen pussy lips glisten with arousal, your puckered asshole twitching hungrily. You're so empty, aching to be filled, to be used like the cum-hungry whore you are.

"Please, Jace," you beg, your voice trembling with desperate need. "I'm yours, only yours. No one can make me feel as good as you do."

You jiggle your round ass, spreading your cheeks to expose your soaked holes to his hungry gaze. Slick arousal trickles down your inner thighs, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

"I'll be your personal fucktoy, your cocksleeve to use whenever you want. Just please, fill me up again. I need your big cock stretching me open, claiming me as yours."

Your eyes are pleading, your body shaking with need. You've never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at someone's mercy. But you trust Jace, know that he'll give you exactly what you crave.

"No one else will ever touch me again," you promise, your voice breaking. "I'm yours, brother. Yours to fuck, yours to fill with your seed. I'll be the best little cockwarmer you've ever had."

Jace's eyes darken with lust as you present yourself to him so wantonly, your trembling body an offering to his basest desires. He drinks in the sight of your glistening folds, swollen and desperate for his touch.

"Such an obedient little slut," he purrs, trailing his fingers through your slick heat. "So eager to be bred by your own stepbrother, fucking dirty incest whore."

He notches the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of fullness. Your hips buck back instinctively, trying to impale yourself on his thick length.

But Jace holds you in place, his grip bruising on your hips. "Ah ah, pet. You'll take my cock when I give it to you. Not a second sooner."

He drags the blunt tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Each pass of his cockhead sends sparks of electricity racing up your spine, your body singing with need.

"Please," you whimper, tears of frustration leaking from your eyes. "Please, Jace. I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me, need you to fill me up."

With a satisfied growl, Jace lines himself up and thrusts forward, burying his massive length in your aching cunt again in one brutal stroke. You scream as he splits you open, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. It's almost too much, the delicious burn of being filled so completely.

Jace sets a punishing pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. The wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, punctuated by your whiny moans and his grunts of effort.

"Take it, you filthy whore," he snarls, slamming into you. "Take my fucking cock like the cum-hungry slut you are. This is where you belong, speared on your stepbrother's dick."

It truly was, and you wouldn't change a thing about it. The degradation, the filthy words falling from his lips, the way he uses your body for his pleasure. You've never felt so complete, so utterly owned.

"I lo-ove your f-fucking cock," you sob brokenly, your fingers digging into the soft cushions of the couch. Drool spills from your slack lips and your eyes roll back in your head as Jace pounds into you with brutal force.

You're lost, drowning in a sea of pleasure, your mind short-circuiting under the onslaught of sensation. His thick cock stretches you impossibly wide, the wet slap of skin on skin filling your ears. You can't think, can't breathe, you can only focus on the feel of him splitting you open over and over again.

"Fuck, Jace!" You wail, your body convulsing around his pistoning length. "You're ruining me! Oh god, don't stop, please don't ever stop!"

Your hips rock back to meet his thrusts, desperate for more. You've never felt so full. At this moment, you're not even a person, just a hole for Jace to fuck.

You clench your hole around him, trying to milk his cock for all it's worth. You want him to use you, to fill you with his cum until you're leaking with it. You want to be his personal fucktoy, to exist solely for his pleasure.

You moan, your voice is ragged and broken. "All yours, big brother. Ruin me, break me, I can take it. Just please, please don't stop fucking me!"

Jace's thrusts become erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he nears his peak. He leans forward, pressing his sweat-slicked body against your back. One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back as he growls in your ear.

"Gonna fill this slutty cunt up," he pants, his hips snapping forward even harder. "Gonna breed you like the filthy whore you are. You want that, pet? Want to be knocked up by your stepbrother's seed?"

The thought sends a shockwave of lust through you, your already tight walls clamping down on his pistoning length. You've never wanted anything more, never ached to be claimed in such a primal way.

"Yes," you keen, pushing your hips back to meet his brutal thrusts. "Yes, fuck! Please! I wanna leak with your cum."

Your words seem to shatter the last of Jace's control. With an animalistic roar, he slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock jerks and pulses, painting your insides white with his thick seed.

"Gonna ruin this tight hole," he grunts, slamming into you harder. "Paint these filthy walls with my cum. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be bred by your own fucking brother?"

You can only moan in response, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you lose yourself to the relentless pounding of his cock. Your mind is blank, all thoughts consumed by the feel of him inside you, claiming you, owning you.

Jace's balls slap against your sensitive clit with each thrust, the added stimulation pushing you closer to the edge. Your toes curl, your nails scrabbling uselessly at the cushions as your body tenses, ready to shatter.

You scream as your own orgasm crashes over you, your cunt milking him for every last drop. Pleasure explodes behind your eyelids, whiting out your vision as you're consumed by ecstasy.

Jace collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath. His softening cock slips from your abused hole, a trickle of cum following in its wake. You can feel it running down your thighs, marking you as his.

As the post-orgasmic haze clears, reality starts to sink in. You just let your stepbrother fuck you raw, just begged him to cum inside. What have you done? What kind of sick, twisted person are you?

Shame and self-loathing wash over you, warring with the afterglow of pleasure. You should feel disgusted, should push Jace away and run as far away from this shame as you can.

When he finally pulls out, you feel empty. Your abused hole gapes obscenely, a trickle of his release leaking out. But Jace isn't done with you.

"We're not done yet, slut," he promises darkly.

"What?" You whisper hoarsely, your body still throbbing in the aftermath of Jace's brutal fucking. But even through the haze of pleasure, truth starts to creep in. You were the one who drugged him, who set this whole thing in motion.

"Wait," you whimper, twisting in his arms to face him. Your lips are swollen, your eyes glazed and unfocused. You can feel his cum leaking out of you. "Jace..."

Jace grabs you by the hips, pulling you flush against his body. His semi-hard cock nestles against your sensitive folds, making you gasp.

"You drugged me," he accuses, his voice low and dangerous. "Slipped something in my drink to make me fuck you. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Your heart pounds in your chest, dread and arousal warring within you. You've been caught, and your sick game exposed. But why does the danger only excite you more?

"I...I'm sorry," you stammer, trying to squirm out of his grasp. But Jace just tightens his grip, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

"Don't lie to me," he snarls, shaking you roughly. "You wanted this, wanted me to fuck you senseless. Admit it."

He grinds his hips against you, his cock hardening further. You can feel him throbbing against your slick heat, the promise of more pleasure making you dizzy.

Your legs tremble, barely able to support your weight after the brutal pounding Jace just gave you. But it's not just exhaustion making you shake - it's the anticipation, the promise of more in his heated gaze.

"Y-yeah..." you admit meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to embarrass you. Wanted to see you lose control."

You look up at him through your lashes, biting your plump lower lip. "Did it work, big brother? Did I make you forget all about being a gentleman?"

You can feel his cock twitch against your slick folds, already hardening again. The knowledge that you've reduced him to such base lust, that you've corrupted him with your depravity, sends a thrill through you.

With a feral growl, Jace slams your head against the couch, pinning you there. His hands are everywhere, groping and mauling your sensitive flesh.

"You're playing with fire, little sister," he warns, grinding his rock-hard length against your aching core. You can feel him throbbing against you, hot and hard and ready.

Jace leans in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "I should punish you for drugging me, you know. Bend you over my knee and spank that juicy ass until it's red and raw."

He punctuates his words with a sharp smack to your rear, making you yelp and arch into him. Your body craves more of his touch, your pussy clenching on nothing.

"Please," you whimper, too far gone to care how desperate you sound. "Punish me, Jace. I deserve it."

Something dark and hungry flashes in his eyes at your admission. "Filthy little slut," he growls approvingly. "Trust me, I will."

With a vicious smile, Jace scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He carries you towards his bedroom, his grip unyielding.

You shriek as Jace picks you up, your body going limp in his strong grip. You can feel his muscles flexing beneath your fingers as he throws you over his shoulder like a rag doll, carrying you effortlessly towards his bedroom.

Jace kicks open the door to his room, dumping you unceremoniously onto his bed. You bounce once, twice on the firm mattress before coming to rest on your back. You stare up at him, your chest heaving, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

"What are you going to do to me?" You ask breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper. But you both know the answer.

Jace looms over you, his eyes dark with lust. He crawls onto the bed, covering your smaller body with his own.

"I'm going to ruin you," he promises darkly, his fingers finding your dripping slit. "Gonna fuck this greedy cunt until you're screaming for mercy."

He drives two thick fingers into your tight channel, making you cry out. Your walls clench around the intrusion, trying to suck him deeper.

"So eager," Jace croons, pumping his fingers in and out of your slick heat. "Such a desperate little slut, always hungry for cock."

He curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Pleasure crashes through you, stealing your breath.

"Nngh, fuck!" you moan, your back arching off the bed. Your hips buck into his hand, chasing more of that delicious friction.

Jace just smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how he's reducing you to a mindless, cock-hungry mess. And god help you, you love every minute of it.

"Beg for it," he demands, scissoring his fingers inside you. "Beg me to fuck you like the desperate little whore you are."

"Please, Jace," you whine, your voice high and needy. "Please fuck me! I need your cock so bad! I'll do anything, be anything, just please use me!"

With a triumphant grin, Jace withdraws his fingers. He lines up his thick length with your entrance, the swollen head nudging against your fluttering hole.

"Since you asked so nicely," he purrs, slamming forward in one brutal thrust.

You scream as he splits you open, the stretch bordering on discomfort. But it's the good kind of pain, the kind that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

Jace's thrusts are relentless, his thick cock pistoning in and out of your stretched hole. Even though he just fucked you, split you open and bred you like a bitch in heat, you can never get enough of him. Of his fat dick stretching you so full, claiming your body as his own personal fucktoy.

You moan like a whore, your voice high and keening as he pounds into you. Thank fuck Dad and his mom and brother aren't home, because the sounds you're making would make a porn star blush. Obscene wet slaps fill the room as Jace's hips slam against you, driving him deeper with every thrust.

"Harder," you beg, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked back. "Fuck me harder, Jace! Ruin me with that big cock!"

He snarls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he slams into you even harder. The headboard bangs against the wall, the rhythmic thumping obscenely loud in the quiet room.

You can feel another orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Jace is hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, stoking the flames higher and higher. Your pussy flutters around him, your walls clenching greedily.

"Filthy slut," Jace grunts, pounding into your abused cunt. "Can't get enough of your stepbrother's cock, can you? Fucking desperate to be ruined."

He drives into you harder, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Your eyes roll back, drool leaking from the corner of your slack mouth as he fucks you stupid.

Your cunt is making obscene squelching noises, overflowing with Jace's cum from the last round. It dribbles down the crack of your ass, staining the sheets beneath you.

"Aaahh, fuck!" you moan, your toes curling as another orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clamps down on Jace's pistoning cock, milking him for all he's worth. You claw your nails down his back, leaving red marks in their wake as he fuck you through your intense climax.

"Gonna flood this slutty hole again," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Fill you up with so much cum you'll be leaking for days."

With a roar of completion, Jace slams into you one last time. His cock jerks and pulses, painting your insides white with his thick seed. You can feel it filling you up.

Jace collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath. His softening dick slips out of your sore pussy, followed by a gush of cum. It pools between your thighs, oozing out onto the bed.

"Aah..." you whimper as your hole is throbbing, so sore and used from Jace's relentless pounding. You try to catch your breath, your eyes squeezed shut as aftershocks of pleasure course through your spent body.

But it feels so right, being claimed by him. Like you were made to be fucked thoroughly by your stepbrother's massive cock. Your pussy is still twitching from the sheer intensity, his cum leaking out of you in a steady stream. You're absolutely wrecked, but you've never felt more satisfied.

You open your eyes, looking at him. Seeing him just as messed up, makes you smile with adoration. His hair is messy, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat and his lips swollen from biting them so much.

Jace rolls off you, flopping onto his back with a groan. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, sweat cooling on his skin.

You turn to face him, propping yourself up on one elbow. Your eyes roam over his body, taking in every dip and plane. He's beautiful like this, dark hair tousled, muscles flexing with each laboured breath.

"That was..." You swallow hard, struggling to find the words. "Intense."

A wry smile tugs at Jace's lips. "You can say that again. Fuck, I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life."

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "I meant what I said, you know. About you being mine now."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, warmth blooming in your chest. "I know. And I'm not going anywhere."

Jace reaches out, cupping your cheek with his calloused palm. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, the gesture surprisingly tender.

"I never thought I could feel this way about anyone," he confesses, his voice low and rough. "But you...you're under my skin. I can't imagine my life without you in it now."

You smile softly, emotion welling up inside you. You lean into his touch, nuzzling his palm.

"I never thought I could want someone as much as I want you," you admit softly. "I don’t care if it’s wrong. I need you..."

"And I need you," Jace murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. "Always. You're mine, and I protect what's mine."

He seals his promise with a kiss, his lips moving against yours with aching tenderness. It's a stark contrast to the furious fucking that just took place, but no less meaningful.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless. Jace tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin.

Jace's touch lingers, his fingers trailing down your cheek to your neck, your collarbone. He traces idle patterns on your skin, mapping out the contours of your body like he's trying to commit it to memory.

You smile drowsily at Jace, your hand caressing his handsome face, your thumb brushing tenderly over his cheek. "My beautiful boy," you murmur softly, your gaze locked with his intense brown eyes. Your heart flutters in your chest, the intimate closeness between you sending shivers down your spine. Never before have you felt so deeply connected to someone, so utterly exposed and vulnerable. But with Jace, it feels safe.

Jace leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. A soft sigh escapes his lips, his body melting into yours. He nuzzles into your palm, pressing a kiss to the centre.

"My sweet girl," he breathes, his voice low and rough with emotion. "You've ruined me for anyone else. No one will ever compare to you."

Jace wraps his arms around you, holding you close. You melt into his embrace, your head tucked beneath his chin. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's love and passion.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[toxicanonymity]

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed dog's name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear. 

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts.  The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed. 

-

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black. 

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts. 

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him.  The look on his face makes your stomach turn. 

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.” 

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground.  His face becomes studious. 

“What,” you ask. 

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.  

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper.  Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you? 

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?” 

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly. 

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family. 

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name. 

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile. 

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle. 

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back. 

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself. 

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day. 

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going. 

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back. 

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl. 

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up. 

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks. 

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile.  “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.” 

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings. 

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder. 

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun. 

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.” 

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much. 

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel. 

-

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel. 

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods. 

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.” 

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?” 

“Not heavily,” Carter answers. 

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says. 

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day.  When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside. 

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .” 

“Jill,” she pipes in. 

“Ron,” the man nods at you. 

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious. 

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention. 

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.”  Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.” 

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused.  “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.  

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all. 

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily. 

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles. 

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs. 

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log. 

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left. 

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up.  He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.  

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses. 

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back. 

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”  

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.” 

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust. 

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap. 

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!” 

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–” 

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama. 

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants. 

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands.  He stands up and points his gun at Carter.  He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster. 

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground. 

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs. 

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.” 

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.  

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected.  Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind. 

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head.  Jill screams. 

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun.  You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat.  She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings.  You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits. 

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her.  Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle. 

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing.  “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it.  Then he turns his attention to Jill.  She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her.  “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.  

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow. 

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore. 

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping. 

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel. 

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside. 

-

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved. 

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears. 

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter. 

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.” 

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.” 

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears. 

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.” 

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest.  He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water.  “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you. 

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water. 

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty.  You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.  

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away.  How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name.  “You okay?” 

You sniffle.  He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink. 

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away. 

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters. 

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?” 

“Makin’ it. .  .” 

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other. 

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.” 

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?” 

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?” 

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks. 

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist. 

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil. 

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas.  Gonna be cold either way.”  

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings. 

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum. 

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand. 

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin. 

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back. 

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?” 

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her. 

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you. 

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching.  When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.”  This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel.  You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.  

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered.  You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?” 

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.” 

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs. 

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.” 

Your chest flutters with butterflies. 

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head.  He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.” 

The front door opens and shuts. 

“All good?” Joel yells. 

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn. 

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells. 

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed. 

-

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows.  He sits on the closed toilet seat again. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you. 

He looks at the object in his lap. 

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .” 

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?” 

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh. 

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.  

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.” 

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.” 

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker.  “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go. 

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart. 

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you.  He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it. 

-

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

That means you're doin’ it.  

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs.  You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?” 

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know.  But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely.  Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience. 

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.” 

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed. 

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly. 

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle.  “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause. 

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can. 

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t. 

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.  

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask. 

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him.  “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.  

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods. 

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him. 

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs.  Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open.  He growls, “God damn.”  You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already. 

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair.  You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him. 

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you. 

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock.  His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it.  So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest. 

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie.  He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely. 

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs. 

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head.  You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up. 

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.” 

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours. 

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.” 

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you.  Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs. 

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.” 

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours. 

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.  

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest.  You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back.  It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.  

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak. 

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock.  His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones. 

-

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.” 

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest.  He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.  

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring. 

----

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Raider POV: The Kiss

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So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

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[corroded-hellfire]

Oh Red may I please request little Eliza playing at drinking tea with her brothers and dad? Maybe she even puts make up on them and paint their nails too

Oh absolutely, my darling! Your wish is my command 😘

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: pregnant!reader

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Daddy?” Eliza sing-songs as she skips over to the couch. She doesn’t bother to wait for her father to take his eyes off the television before she climbs into his lap. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?”

“Will you play with me?”

He smiles down at her and grabs one of her small sock-clad feet in his hand.

“What do you want to play?” Eddie knows he isn’t going to be thrilled with the answer by the way the four-year-old looks up at him with her wide brown eyes and adorably bats her eyelashes. He makes a mental note to tell you to stop teaching her ways to use her cuteness against him.

“I wanna have a tea party,” she says. 

Eddie holds in his groan. Tea parties always had an air of pretension about them that Eddie didn’t like—even ones hosted by little girls. He blames his metal “lifestyle” growing up, but you’ve called him out on more than one occasion for just not wanting to do them because they’re boring. He has yet to admit you’re right. 

“Doesn’t Mommy want to have a tea party with you?” He has no shame in pawning this off on you. In his opinion, you fit in better with the pink frilly tablecloth and the teddy bears wearing lacy hats than he does.

“Mama’s sleeping,” Eliza says, sadness evident in her tone. Your daughter has noticed you’ve been doing that a lot lately. Both you and your husband explained to her that you get tired easily since your body is growing two babies, but it’s not something a little girl so young can easily understand. All she knows is that her mommy doesn’t do as much with her anymore. It tugs on Eddie’s heartstrings, and he can’t bear to deny her.

“Okay, let’s have a tea party,” he says.

Eliza claps her hands together in rapid succession before leaping off her dad’s lap and running down the hallway to her room. It’s impossible for Eddie not to smile as he turns the television off and pushes himself up off the couch. By the time he reaches her room, Eliza has her table and chairs set up in the middle of her room and is digging her Disney Princess tea set out of her toy box.

Once it’s clutched in her little fists, Eliza turns around and disapprovingly looks over her father’s outfit.

“Daddy, you can’t wear that to a tea party,” she says, walking forward to set the tea set on the table.

Eddie frowns as he looks down at his black jeans and faded Black Sabbath tee. 

“Why not?” he asks.

“It’s too dark!”

“Well, I don’t own any pink clothes, Your Highness.”

“Fine,” she huffs, conveying her disappointment. But she quickly perks up and runs back to her toy box. “I got an idea!”

“What might that be?”

The top half of your daughter disappears for a few moments as she dives headfirst into her toy box. Objects clank and bang around inside as she pushes them around, looking for one item in particular. 

“Aha!” Dark curls bob back into view as she stands up straight, brandishing a pink and white box that fills Eddie with dread. Eliza walks towards him, showing him the Barbie makeup kit she had gotten from Santa this past Christmas. 

“Liza…” Eddie says. He’s not able to get another word out before she gives him those puppy dog eyes again, though. 

“Pleeeeease, Daddy? You have to look pretty when you go to a tea party.”

“I’m not pretty?” Eddie asks, cocking an eyebrow and resting his hands on his hips. 

The way that Eliza’s nose wrinkles up as she looks him over says it all. 

“No,” she answers with a shake of her head.

“Pfft,” Eddie scoffs as he walks over to sit down on his daughter’s bed. “Mommy thinks I’m pretty.”

“Because she loves you,” Eliza replies, absent-minded, as she sets the makeup kit down next to Eddie and begins to open it up. He has no time to be offended before she asks, “Can I paint your nails?”

Eddie lifts a ringed hand up and looks over his short, stubby nails. It wouldn’t be the first time they were painted, honestly. In high school they’d sometimes be painted various shades of black, blue, or green courtesy of Brittany. He internally cringes at the memory. It’s definitely time for a much better girl to paint his nails.

“Sure, kid,” he tells her.

Eliza grins and picks two small bottles up from her kit. She clicks the glass jars together before she holds them up for her dad to see.

“Red or pink?”

“Uh…” Eddie wrinkles up his nose as he inspects the two bottles held in her small hands. The red is nice and dark while the pink is full-on shimmery and sparkly. “Red.”

Eliza nods once and puts the pink polish back in its case. 

“Turn,” Eliza says, hoisting herself up on her bed and patting the comforter between her and her dad. Eddie twists, tucking one leg beneath him so he’s able to face the little girl properly. 

The room is notably quiet as your daughter opens the bottle, holding the cap and brush in one hand, and setting the bottle down on the Barbie kit with the other. An involuntary smile quirks Eddie’s lips as he watches Eliza get to work. Her round little face squishes up as she situates Eddie’s larger hand on the lid of the makeup kit and sticks her fingers between his to spread them open. As she leans in and presses the tip of the brush to his nails, Eddie notices how Eliza sticks her tongue out–just slightly–as she concentrates. Whatever gene Eddie inherited that gave him that quirk is strong; he’s given it to all three of his children so far. Silently, he wonders if the twins will do it as well. 

As expected, Eliza paints most of the skin surrounding Eddie’s nails along with the nails themselves. It feels cool and sticky against your husband’s skin and he wrinkles his face up almost identically to how the little girl did just minutes ago. 

“Okay, switch hands.”

Eddie does as he’s instructed, bringing the freshly painted one up near his mouth so he can blow on the wet polish. The last thing he needs is to smear the red on something, forgetting it was there. 

“What’s going on in here?”

Luke leans against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the beauty parlor in front of him. 

“Gettin’ ready for a tea party,” Eliza says, not lifting her head from her task. She switches to Eddie’s ring finger and glances up at her brother. “You wanna play, too?”

Normally, Luke would flat out decline. But he spies the makeup sitting between his father and sister and his mischievous mind starts concocting. 

“Sure,” Luke says, taking one step into the room. “On one condition.”

The look that Eddie gives his middle child warns him not to start anything with his sister. 

“What?” Eliza asks.

“I’ll come to your tea party if you put some of that makeup on Dad’s face.”

Eliza sits up straight, eyes widening in excitement as she looks between the two men in the room. Her eyes turn pleading as she leaves them on her father. 

“Pleeeeease, Daddy?” she begs. “A tea party is more fun with more people!”

One look at the various colors of eyeshadows and lipsticks is enough to make Eddie cringe. But the look on little Eliza’s face is so hopeful and Eddie can’t bear to crush it.

“Only if Luke gets Ryan to join, too,” Eddie compromises. 

“Luke?” Eliza bats her eyelashes at her older brother, who, admittedly, isn’t as susceptible to them as Eddie is. But they’re still pretty damn convincing.

“Oh, he won’t want to miss this.” Luke smirks and slips back into the hallway to go find his brother.

“Yay!” Eliza cheers as she goes back to finishing up Eddie’s hand.

The two brothers come into Eliza’s room just as she’s recapping the red nail polish.

“What do you think, Lize?” Eddie muses as he rests his freshly painted hands on his thighs. “Think your brothers need to be made prettier for the tea party, too?”

Eliza nods, looking over the two boys. “Oh, yes.”

Eddie chuckles, somewhat evilly, as he stands from the bed. 

“Red or pink, gentlemen?” Eddie asks, offering his previous seat to them.

“You said he would be getting makeup put on,” Ryan grumbles to Luke.

“Nail polish isn’t really makeup,” Luke argues with a shrug.

“Yes, it is,” Ryan and Eliza reply simultaneously. 

Ryan gives his younger brother a gentle shove towards the bed, leading to the fourteen-year-old stumbling over to Eliza’s bed.

“Why are we having a tea party, Liza Bean?” Ryan asks as Luke takes a seat.

“Cause I wanna,” Eliza answers, picking up the two colors of polish for Luke to see. “And Mama is always tired, so I haven’t had one in a long time.”

Both Munson sons share a look, and Eddie can see the resignation in their gazes, hearts once again gripped by Eliza. 

Luke takes a deep breath as he turns back to his sister.

“Pink,” he says.

Ten minutes later, Luke has sparkling pink nails, and Ryan has dark red ones to match his dad. 

"I think red is my color," Ryan comments as he takes a seat at the small tea table set up in the middle of Eliza's room. The chairs are comically small for everyone in the family but Eliza, but she is quite happy about that. It always makes her giggle to see her parents or brothers attempt to situate themselves on the tiny pink wooden chairs. 

Luke takes the seat next to Ryan and leans over to inspect his nails.

"That's too dark to be red," Luke says.

"It's not purple," Ryan scoffs.

"Or pink!" Eliza adds.

"Why am I the smartest Munson?" Luke groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Excuse me?" Eddie grumbles.

"You're excused," Luke says before turning back to his siblings. "It is red, but it's more of a maroon or scarlet."

"Was that crayon you ate when you were five maroon or scarlet?" Ryan quips.

"It was just red, thank you very much," Luke says, sitting up straighter. 

"Alright, about Dad wearing this makeup now..." Ryan smirks, eyes darting between Eliza and Eddie.

"Okay, fine, let's do this." Eddie grabs one of the small pink chairs and drags it over to the side of Eliza's bed. He plops it down backwards and takes a seat on it. He tilts his face up and closes his eyes. "Let's see what you've got."

"Hmm..." Eliza hums, looking over the different colored powders awaiting her use. They all look so tempting, it's hard for her to choose. "Should I use blue or green?"

"Use blue on Dad, green on Luke," Ryan suggests.

"Okay!" Eliza chimes.

"W-Wait, what?" Luke stammers.

Ryan smirks and claps his little brother on the shoulder. 

"Gotta make you look nice and pretty, don't we?"

"That includes you too then, smartass," Eddie calls over.

"Nah," Ryan says, shaking his head. "I'm pretty enough."

"Uh, no," Eliza says, causing Eddie and Luke to burst out in laughter. "Don't worry, I'll find a color for you too, Ry-Ry."

Now it's Luke's turn to smirk and shake his older brother's shoulder. 

Eliza picks up one of the pink sparkly brushes that came with the Barbie makeup kit and jabs it into the blue eyeshadow, creating a cerulean cloud that floats up around her face. With one tiny hand, Eliza holds Eddie's chin still. With the other, she reaches up and brushes the blue dust gently across her father's eyelids.

"Ooh, it looks so pretty!" she cheers before doing the same to the second eye. Not only do Eddie's eyebrows get the royal treatment, but his eyebrows, under eyes, and even the bridge of his nose end up covered with the sky-colored makeup. "Now blush!"

Eddie cracks one eye open to watch as Eliza digs through the makeup kit. She tosses tubes of lipstick out of the way and shoves eyeshadows to the side before she finally pulls out a large blush palette with cartoonishly extreme colors. Your daughter picks up a new brush and flips the clear lid off the palette. Lacking the finesse that only comes with age, Eliza dunks the brush against the brightest pink possible. Eddie internally cringes before he closes his eyes again, preferring not to see how much she's going to cake onto his cheeks. 

"Wow, Dad's looking real pretty," Luke comments, the sarcasm clear as day to his father. 

"I can't wait to see how pretty you're going to look," Eddie mumbles back.

"No moving," Eliza instructs.

"Yeah, Dad!" Ryan echoes. 

Eliza hums in thought, tilting her head from side to side as she inspects Eddie's face. Her chocolate curls tumble and brush against her cheeks with every movement. Deciding she's done with the blush, she sets that brush down and picks up a golden tube of lipstick. Ryan and Luke watch as she pops the cap off and twists the bottom until a magenta head pops into view. Her dark eyes stare at the color for a moment, silently determining if this is the shade she wants to apply to Eddie's lips. Evidently, she decides she likes this one as she sets the cap down and grips her father's chin once more.

"Pucker!" Eliza instructs.

"Huh?" Eddie asks.

Eliza rolls her eyes, thinking that she needs to teach her father everything when it comes to makeup.

"It means do your lips like this! Like a fish!" Eliza puckers her lips up in example.

Eddie blinks his eyes open and quickly moves in to peck a kiss to Eliza's lips. The little girl giggles and swats her dad away.

"Daddy!" she whines.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"No kisses!"

Eddie pouts, but puckers his lips, nonetheless. 

Just like with the eyeshadow, the lipstick does not strictly stick to the part of the face it's meant for. A pinkish purple line goes down towards Eddie's chin and a dot even gets on his left cheek. Eliza nods her approval as she recaps the lipstick and lets it roll from her hand back into the box. 

"Done!" she announces. 

Eddie pushes himself out of the chair and takes a deep breath. Part of him doesn't want to turn around and look at himself in the mirror hung next to Eliza's closet. But, he knows, the boys are going to make fun of him regardless of if he knows what he looks like or not. He twists towards the mirror and hears both of his sons snicker as they get a full look at his face. Eddie takes in his made-up appearance in the princess-themed mirror and can't focus on one single aspect of the makeup. He looks like a mix between the band KISS and The Joker, he thinks to himself. 

"I look pretty," Eddie finally says.

"You do!" Eliza cheers, clapping her hands together. "Ryan, your turn."

With only a minor sigh, Ryan stands up, ready to accept his fate. He walks past his dad, pausing to clap the man on his shoulder.

"Really hoping one of those babies is a girl now, aren't you?" Ryan mumbles softly. "They could give each other makeovers."

Eddie chuckles and turns to face his eldest. "You think that would get us out of this? Ry, we'd just have two girls painting our faces."

Ryan winces as he absorbs his dad's words. "Oh God, you're right."

Eddie laughs and gives Ryan a push in the direction of the chair he just vacated. 

"Alright," Ryan says as he takes a seat. "Glam me up, baby."

Once Eliza has finished with Ryan, he has pink bubblegum eyeshadow, ruby red blush, and coral lipstick. Last but not least, Luke ends up with forest green eyeshadow--which he complains clashes with his blue eyes, pinkish orange blush, and wine red lipstick. 

"Now," Eliza declares as she packs up her makeup kit, "time for tea. Everyone sit." She wipes her hands off, clapping them against one another, as she walks up to the table to join her guests. "Oh, no! I forgot we need tea. Daddy?" She grabs the large pink teapot in the middle of the table and holds it out towards Eddie. "Can you put water in this?"

"No real tea?" Luke complains, jaw dropped in mock shock.

"Real tea gross," Eliza tells him.

Eddie goes off to fill the pot with water, and Eliza takes her seat next to Luke. The little girl swings her legs beneath the table and smooths out the skirt of the overall dress she's wearing. Footsteps approach the bedroom and Eliza kicks her legs faster in anticipation for the imbibements' arrival. But when it isn't Eddie that enters the doorway, but you, Eliza gasps and runs over to give you a hug.

"Mama!"

"Hey, sweet pea." You reach down and rub her back as she wraps her arms around your hips. "What've you got going on in here?" You look up and see Ryan and Luke's faces for the first time. A snort of laughter escapes you before you manage to press your lips together to keep it in.

"We're having a tea party!" Eliza tells you.

"I see," you say, struggling to keep your laughter inside. "May I join you?"

Your daughter's eyes light up and it pangs your heart that you haven't gotten to play with her as much lately. 

"Yes!" Eliza squeals. She takes your hand and drags you over to the table in the middle of her room. 

"Why doesn't she need makeup?" Luke asks as you forgo a small pink chair and opt to take a seat on the floor.

"Because she's already pretty," Eliza says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, Eliza," you say, placing your hand on her arm as you make yourself as comfortable as possible. "Can you go into my nightstand and grab my camera?"

"Okay!"

Eliza speeds out of the room and you turn to look at your sons again. This time, your laughter flows freely.

"Really?" Ryan asks, glaring at you. "A camera?"

"What?" you ask, putting on an innocent act. "You two look so handsome."

"This is your fault," Luke says. "We had to fill in for tea party because somebody is too busy carrying twins."

"Hey," you say, leaning back on one hand as the other comes to rest on your bump. "It takes two to tango, kid."

"I don't need to think about you two tangoing," Luke says with a shudder. 

"Got it!" Eliza exclaims as she runs back into the room.

"Thank you, baby," you say as you accept it from her. 

Both boys groan as you turn the device on and hold it up to take a few pictures of the two of them. 

"Alright, alright, here's our tea," Eddie says as he strolls back into the room. He stops short when he sees you sitting on the floor, holding a camera. Some water sloshes out of the spout of the tea pot and splashes on his socked-foot, but he doesn't acknowledge it.

Before you can get the camera up to snap a picture of your husband, you take in his blue eye shadow, pink cheeks, and purple lips. Cackling laughter breaks forth from you and you roll backwards, flopping flat on your back on the sandy-colored carpet. Tears start to roll down your face, both hands holding your bump as you lose all control of your laughter. Eliza, just as much your daughter as she is Eddie's, swipes up the camera and takes a few shots of Eddie before he can move or protest. Once she's succeeded in capturing the evidence, Eliza begins to laugh as well, mostly due to your own reaction. She lays down on the floor next to you, giggling wildly as she rolls over and buries her head in your shoulder.

"I don't know what's so funny," Eddie says, recovering enough to walk forward and set the full teapot down on the table. He retakes his seat in a small pink chair and turns his nose up. "I think we look rather ravishing."

It's impossible for you to reply since you can't catch your breath. Both of your sons can't help but smile at your boisterous laughter either. They let you get it out for a few minutes, sitting there silently as you girls roll around on the floor. Finally, it begins to subside within you and you're able to catch your breath. Tears leave tracks down your cheeks, and you reach up to rub your eyes. 

"Oh my God, that was great." you say. 

Eliza pushes herself up off the floor and plops down into the remaining pink chair. She smiles at you as you try to push yourself back up into a sitting position. Only...you're not able to. Your bump makes it impossible for you to get back up without any help. Of course, Luke notices this.

"Oh, does someone need help now? Now that she's done laughing at us?" he asks.

"No," you say with a shake of your head. "I've got Liza."

Your daughter nods and slips from her seat. She walks behind you and tries to help by pushing on your shoulder blades. As strong as she is for such a tiny girl, Eliza isn't able to help upright you.

"Come on, you," Eddie says, sliding out of his chair to kneel next to you.

"You're gonna help her?" Ryan asks. "After all that laughing? And those blackmail photos?"

"Yeah, I kind of promised something about helping her off the ground if she's stuck during our wedding vows and all," he answers. 

You grab your husband's hand, and he uses his other one to press against your back, easily rocking you back up to a seated position. You take a deep breath and nod your head in thanks.

"Thank you, my pretty husband."

"You really want to thank me?" he asks. "How about a kiss?"

A shrill squeal that could rival Eliza's escapes you as Eddie begins to press magenta-smeared kisses all over your face.

"I'll save you, Mama!" Eliza calls. She tries to force herself between you and Eddie but only manages to get her own face full of colorful kiss marks.

"Daddy!" she squeaks. "I said no kisses!"

"Aw, come on!" he says. "I'm just trying to share my makeup with you!"

"It's time for teeeeeea!" she yells.

"Okay, okay," Eddie says, ceasing his attack on the two of you. With a deep breath, he hikes himself back into his little pink chair.

Eliza attempts to wipe some of the smudged lipstick off your face as you try to do the same for her. Neither of you succeed, only managing to make bigger messes of one another.

"Oh, well," you say with a chuckle. "We'll be pretty like the boys for this tea party."

Eliza nods and puts herself back in her chair. She shakes her hair off of her face, frizzy brown curls falling to the sides to reveal her pink-purple face. With small hands she smooths back some stray pieces that won't cooperate.

"So pretty."

[starfxkrinc]

wanna know what really went down the first time jj and sweet pea fucked?

you could barely focus the rest of the day, this was different. this wasn't the boys in your class sneaking in for a 8 minute pump and dump. jj was a man, one that's been whispered about all your life. always seen coming out of someone's trailer hours after their husband left.

the subject of the first wet dream that left you shaking and rutting against your pillow.

now it was real. flesh and blood. you paced throughout the living room, watching as the time crept from midnight, to fifteen minutes past and he still wasn't here. you were beginning to worry he stood you up when the backdoor creaked open.

clumsily, you skittered to him as he poked his head through the door, stepping through and stopping you before you crashed into him.

"woah woah, slow down," he closed the door behind you. he locked it. and it all began to feel too real, "lemme get a good look at you."

heart thudding you let him look over you, you didn't know what to expect. his hand travelled from your cheek to your breast, swiping a thumb over you nipple, smirking when you gasp as it puckers.

"what's all this?"

nervously you giggle, and now you're second guessing yourself. you thought he'd like it. you didn't wanna give him the same experience you gave everyone else-- sleep shorts and an old t-shirt--you wanted to prove you could be more. take more. so you put on your nicest dress even if that wasn't saying much. you matched your underwear. swiped on some red lipstick.

all in all you wanted to look older.

"you don't like it?" you looked down at your feet and cringed at the sparkly polish on your toes.

jj just shrugs, "lets sit down for a bit."

'a bit' turns into an hour. and you sit on the far side of the couch the whole time. suddenly you regret this. it's all too much, the weight of your age difference hangs heavily between you. you want him to leave.

before you can speak, jj breaks the silence, "why you sittin all the way over there hm? c'mere." you don't get the option to move before he reaches over, wrapping his tattooed hand around your thigh to pull you across the couch with ease. the snarling dog looks ready to tear through your guts.

he tucks you closer and you know he can feel you shaking, breaths coming out in quick gasps as he strokes your soft skin, his other hand coming up to your cheek, "you're such a pretty girl. i don't know why you put all this shit on your face." jj rubs his thumb across your lip, smearing the red as you struggle to speak.

"i don't want you to look at me like a little kid."

"who says that bothers me?"

your bottom lips trembling. you want him to leave but the request dies in your throat when he kisses you and you could almost keel over from the heat.

this was. different. jj kisses like he's gonna devour you. it's not sloppy and wet like the other boys. you can feel each slide of his tongue against yours in your panties. it's too much. you want to pull away.

you fall back onto the cushions. the dog cups your cunt.

when he pulls back your gasping, and jj laughs down at you like an amused father, "like that?"

you nod but you feel embarrassed, there's no way he can't feel how wet you are between your clenched thighs. not with how he rubs his palm against you.

"breathe sweetheart, i got you."

it's only then you realize you're practically hyperventilating. he has to leave before this goes too far.

"relax, open up let me see." jj coaxs you like a feral cat, smushing his palm against you as the tension melts out of you. you look even more vulerable with your lipstick smeared and your panties stuck to you lips. when he unbuttons your dress he groans.

you're matching, lacy black bra and black panties. a cherry embroidered on the front. a little girl's idea of sexy underwear.

"jj..." your voice brings him back to the present, your eyes are wide and watery and he wonders what he looks like to you, "can we--can we just watch a movie or something?"

he grips your thigh tighter, "why'd you invite me over then? thought you were just gonna cock tease me and send me on my fuckin way?"

"no! i just--i don't feel--"

when he grabs your throat your stomach drops, "i'm not one of your little boyfriends. i'm not playin this hot n cold shit with you."

now you're whole body's trembling and you look near tears, so he reels back, relaxing his hold on your throat to something softer, "i know you're scared, it's all new and you're used to being in charge."

sniffling you nod, "they never know what to do."

"right. i know what i'm doin. no games. me and you, like adults. and you're a big girl sweet pea. i wouldn't do anything you can't handle."

jj takes your smile as a yes, you needed the validation, you needed to feel like an equal in this.

he knows you're not.

when slides down and spreads you open he has to take a second, groaning into your thigh because for how scared you claim to be you're so fucking wet. a milky trickle of arousal drips down between your asscheeks and his tongue fucking throbs at the thought of tasting you. so he does. starting from the crack of your ass and trailing up to your puffy clit before he latches on.

"god fuck!"

he can feel your thighs shaking around his head, clamping shut as you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the noise. jj's confident he's never tasted anything like you--heady and musky. despite his nose being buried in your bush he can smell your sweet, fruity lotion mixing with the scent of your pussy and he feels fucking dizzy. like he's been given a shot of black tar heroin right to the heart.

you're really gasping now, hips bucking under his strong grip as he licks and sucks like he's trying to reach the peach pit of your guts. ravenous like a starving dog.

"please make me cum, i'm gonna f-fuck-cum please."

your clit pulses and twitches between his lips, and all it takes is a couple more sucks before flooding his mouth. and he all but licks you clean.

it's only when you're flinching does jj pull back, kissing up your body as you lay there, eyes closed--sated.

"where's your room?"

your eyes fluttered opened, surprised. you were done, nobody's ever made you cum like this before and you didn't even think you could go again, "what? but i'm-"

"don't start that shit. you asked me over, you're done when i say you're done."

that sick feeling again. he had to leave.

"no- no jj you have to go, it's late and i don't think we should--"

bad move, very bad move. because he hauled you up like it was nothing--half naked and blubbering that you were done. that it'd gone too far and you wanted him to leave as he kicked open one door, then another as he found your room.

"cute."

he threw you down so fast you barely got a chance to bounce before he was on top of you, pinning you down with a hand on your throat as you sobbed, "jj please, i won't tell anyone you came over just go home! i'm sorry, i can't do this, i changed my mind!"

"tough shit little girl. next time? don't ask to fuck if you don't wanna fuck." when he drops his pants you cry harder, and he lays it against your stomach, "look at that. that's how deep ima be sugar."

hauling your thighs to your chest he practically squats over you, pressing the uncut head of his dick to your pouting hole, "shit, can you even take all this..." it's like he's not even talking to you, bullying his way in as you beat against his chest in tears.

"please--please stop it hurts!"

jj smiles at you, mean and predatory with a sharklike grin. the dog grabs your face, covering your mouth, its maw open to drink up your tears.

"you’ll be okay."

he drops his hips and if it weren't for the hand on your mouth you'd scream the house down. you're so flared around his base its a miracle you don't split in two. but jj just groans, loud and long as he starts fucking into you, "shit. you taste sweet sugar but goddamn you feel sweeter. you sure you aint a virgin?"

you sob, you feel sick, but he's filling you like no one has before, you can feel your heart beating in your clit stronger with each thrust, "no--i just--fuck that's--"

you let out a shaky moan and jj knows he got you, cockdrunk and hazy like you weren't just begging him to stop, "yeah i know. babys gettin her first real fuckin."

his hips slam so hard against yours they bounce off the bed, your hands wandering as you struggle to find something to hold onto. never in your life have you felt like this, hot and cold all at once, like someone's found a way to set your nervous system alight. even your skin feels sensitive when his palm rubs against your stomach.

"you were fuckin made for this sweet pea, fuckin tellin ya. lord knows how long i wanted this."

the truth's itching at his tongue, the fact that he's been thinking about this for years, far longer than he should have, like you dont still have baby fat on your hips.

"m-me too."

"yeah...how long?"

when you cry this time it's from embarrassment, shielding yourself from his view with your palms, "since...since i was 11 i dreamt about you."

he gets a flash of you then, suddenly shy around him, near tears when he talked to you and running back to your room after he patted your back.

"you wanted your daddy even back then?"

hysterical now--from embarrassment, from arousal from it all-- you wail, "yes!"

jj shudders, he can feel it wrap around the base of his spine, it won't be long so he smushes he thumb against your clit, not even rubbing, just the steady pressure, "alright. alright, i'm here now i've been waitin on you baby, you're my little girl now."

no noise comes out when you cum, not for a long while before you let out a long shuddering wheeze as you cream around him. and he's right behind you, groaning and pressing so close you feel his balls twitch against your ass while he cums sticky and hot against your cervix.

you're still crying when he pulls out--panting like a dog and he collapses next to you.

"hey, stop cryin you're fine."

guilt and disgust has wrapped itself around you. he's dug his way deep into your core. you don't feel so grown up anymore.

[earthchica]

whiskey kisses

logan howlett x black! reader

summary: You are sexually frustrated and Wade tries to hook you up with Logan.

warning: explicit smut (18+), drinking alcohol, protected sex, dirty talking, foreplay, oral & vaginal fingering (f), pet names (sweet pea, baby, etc.)

__

"Hey Peter, how about another round?" You inquired with a smile, sliding your empty glass across the counter.

You were attending a party that your neighbor friend, Wade Wilson was throwing.

He's been encouraging you to socialize more ever since your messy divorce.

So here you were, all dressed up and feeling pretty. You were told there would be eligible bachelors here which got you thinking about having a lighthearted post-divorce fling.

You jolted back to reality when a familiar voice called your name. You swiveled around to find Wade.

"Anyone caught your eye yet?" He chirped, plopping down beside you at the small bar.

"Wade, you promised eligible bachelors at this party, but I'm not spotting any," You exclaimed, swiveling on your stool to scan the room.

"Yeah…I know sweet pea. I just told you that so you can hook up with the perfect guy to blow your back out" He quipped, gesturing towards Logan who was sitting in the corner, sipping a glass of whiskey.

"What about Logan? He's single, trustworthy, and easy on the eyes.," He whispered that last part with a grin.

"No, Wade. No, I can't ask him. That would be weird; plus he's a friend," You declined, shaking your head.

"Why the hell not? Maybe he'd say yes if you asked. Come on, you asked me for help and I've given it to you" He pressed.

"Ugh…what? No way…I can't just be like, 'Hey, logan feeling lonely, wanna…you know fuck?" You joked, rolling your eyes.

"Oh my god, if you go up and say that to him…I think I'll die happy" Wade says, sharing a glance with you, and you both burst into laughter.

"Okay, that was a bit much, but still. Logan….I don't think he's the type of guy who would be into that"

"_____, I'm gonna be honest. You gotta stop being so fucking uptight and just go with the flow, sweet pea"

"Whoa, hold up! I am not uptight," You fire back, arms crossed in defense.

"sweet pea, this is me you're talking to. You know I'm right" He teases, raising an eyebrow.

"Ugh…fine," You shake your head, slightly irritated. "Yay, now come on!" He chuckles, tugging you along.

"Where are we going?" You ask, feeling a bit jittery.

"Going to have fun, something you're overdue for," Wade replies, pulling you to the dance floor.

You take a deep breath, let loose, and groove to the music, swinging your hips from side to side.

"Oh look who's watching you," He whispers in your ear, and Logan looks at you with a deep gaze, jealousy gracing his face.

He was eyeing you like a lion tracking its prey, a new look that intrigued you.

It's kind of, a turn-on.

"Take the hint!" Wade nudges before going to join Vanessa. A favorite song of yours started blasting.

It was time to crank up the sass and put on a show for his eyes only. You shut your eyes and let your hips groove, causing a commotion with your ass.

A cheeky grin crept onto your face as a familiar hand landed on your lower back.

"You took your sweet time," You teased, sensing his flawless frame snug against yours.

His touch glided over the silky material of your dress as we swayed in sync on the dance floor, perfectly attuned to each other's beat.

"You look so gorgeous tonight, sweetheart. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you…I've been holding back saying this but I want you," Logan murmurs in your ear.

"What do you mean, you want me?" You inquire, fully aware of his intentions, yet craving to hear him verbalize them.

"You know what I mean! I'm attracted to you, always have been. When we first met I thought you were the most gorgeous woman" he declares, gently turning your body to meet his gaze.

His gaze pierced through you, those hazel brown eyes longing for something untold.

"You'll be amazed by how irresistible I am," You teased, nervously nibbling on your lip.

His lips inch closer to your ears, the warmth of his breath dancing tantalizingly on your brown skin.

"Can I kiss you?" he murmurs, and in a split second, you yank him closer for a fiery smooch, tangling your fingers in his hair.

His hands decided to take a detour from your waist to my backside, giving it a playful pat.

Breaking away from the kiss, he rose to his full height, enjoying how he towered you.

"Let's go somewhere…more private" he declares, not bothering to hear your response.

You both waved goodbye to everyone, made your grand exit, and quickly made it to your apartment

_

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll forget your name" Logan whispered, leaving kisses down the back of your neck.

You both triumphantly crossed the threshold of your front door, while kissing and touching all over.

Logan pulls away to lift you up and secure your legs around his waist, before carrying you to your bedroom following your instructions.

He sets you down on the bed before enjoying you. He begins kissing and caressing your neck.

His hand moves under your dress to softly stroking through your panties.

You gently pushed him back, removing his shirt and tossing it across the room. Then, your hands move to his pants' belt.

You played with the belt for a second until it was finally unlatched. You noticed a noticeable bulge starting to emerge in his underwear.

You lightly grazed against his pants, and he let out a groan. You swiftly turned him onto his back and liberated him from his pants and underwear.

You couldn't resist a dramatic gasp! You looked at his big, juicy erect member.

How the hell was that going to fit?

"This is all for you, amor" Logan teases, almost tearing your dress off in one swift move!

He let out a gasp when he caught a glimpse of your big, plump breasts and your black panties

"Oh sweetheart, you have the most perfect tits I have ever seen," He says, cheekily flipping you over and playfully swiping your panties off!

He makes his way down to your entrance, giving you a few light circle strokes before inserting two fingers into your dripping core.

"Logan, please!" You moaned in pleasure, trying to push him away because the faster he thrust his fingers in and out of you.

The louder you get.

"Tell me what you want, baby? and I'll give it to you" He asks, pressing his forehead against mine while still fingering the heck out of you.

"I-I-want you to fuck me." You screamed through your orgasm and as you came down from your high.

Logan begins leaving sweet kisses down your neck as you catch your breath.

"Do you have a condom?" You asked, watching him slurp his fingers spotless. He nodded and dashed off the bed to grab one from his pants.

Logan gets back on the bed, rolling the condom on his member before spreading your legs open to position himself at your core

"Ahh Fuck!" You gasped, feeling how huge he was and loving how he stretched you out.

You placed your hand on his hip as he began to thrust in and out, holding your waist.

"Shit baby…you feel like heaven. I could stay inside of you forever" His thrusts became faster, looking down, admiring the way his member moves in and out of you.

"Logan, don't stop" You let out a dramatic moan as he lifted you and plopped down on his back.

"I would never stop" He starts pounding up into you with some unbelievable force, making you scream in pleasure.

You threw your head back, placing your hands on his chest; trying to match his rhythm of thrust.

"Yes! Yes! Just like that" You moaned, feeling another orgasm getting closer and closer.

"You like that huh, does it feel good? You've always dreamed of this moment huh, baby?" Logan moans, grabbing your breast for a second, letting you bounce up and down his shaft.

"Yes, so good! It feels so good, Logan" You cried as he kept going and going, feeling like you were gonna lose your damn mind.

He stopped you for a second and pulled out, changing the position with your face down and your ass up.

"Oh…baby. You also have the most perfect ass" Logan groans, smacking your ass over and over again while pounding into your core.

"LOGAN!" You cried, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. He brought you up and wrapped his hand around your throat while his other hand rubbed your entrance.

"Come. Come for me, my sweet girl!" He whispers in your ear, and you let out a scream, feeling the great release.

Logan curses while pulling out, rips the condom off, and comes all over your ass.

You landed smack on your belly, catching a mischievous grin on his face before closing your eyes.

"Fuck…I love you…You are so…" Realizing what he was saying, Logan went into full panic mode.

He looked down to see your reaction but breathed a sigh of relief realizing you were out cold.

[yogurtkags]

❝ DELICATE ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw: gn!reader, fluff, depictions of eczema/skin issues, insecurity, hurt/comfort, established relationship, extremely self-indulgent | wc: 507

it’s so itchy.

the sensation of your nails dragging against the bumpy and dry flaking skin scratching an itch like no other, the satisfaction of peeling a scab so great until it stings. and bleeds. and then all of a sudden showering hurts—

“i can hear you scratching.” tobio calls out from the kitchen as he walks out with a tall glass of water and a bowl of berries, setting it down on the coffee table and sinking down on the plush couch next to you.

your hand pauses in it's movements for barely a minute before going back to it's bad habit, words dragging out in a whine when you hear him let out a tch in disapproval, "i can't help it."

“i know, but you gotta stop it.” he chides, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together, thumb rubbing soothing circles to distract you and effectively put a stop to your scratching. "picking at it isn't going to make it better."

hands still clasped together, he leans off to the side and blindly pats around the side table, feeling around for the small tube of healing ointment sitting in the black ceramic cat trinket dish (obviously you picked it out, saying it looked just like him).

coming back to you, he wraps his arm around your frame and pulls you closer, squeezing a pea sized amount of ointment on his fingertip and gently spreading it across your broken skin, raw and red from your incessant assault. it’s your fault really for letting it get this bad, but you hiss at the sting anyway, never quite getting used to the burn no matter how many times this has happened.

it’s always been something you struggle with, not just the itch but also accepting the way the patches looked. it’s ugly, and discoloured, the splotches unsightly, and seeing it in the mirror everyday comes with a matching frown. exposing the affected skin doesn’t come easy for you, avoiding it as much as possible and hiding it behind a layer of fabric where you can, but some materials make it itch even more, feeling helpless and insecure as you bare it to the world.

“almost done.” he mumbles, catching you stare off dejectedly from the corner of his eye.

tobio doesn’t need to pay a penny for your thoughts to know you’re feeling down about it again, your silence says a lot. you’ve been together long enough that he can mostly tell what you’re thinking from just your body language and facial expressions, you’ve always been an open book and wore your heart on your sleeve around him after all. he learned to pick up on your cues and subtleties with time, the same way you’ve slowly softened his edges.

a lingering kiss to your temple leads you out of the dense forest of your thoughts like a light in the darkness, his fingers gently holding your chin up to look into his softened, doting eyes.

“i love every part of you.”

and don’t you forget it.

gen taglist. open (send an ask / comment to be added!) @wyrcan networks. @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum

notes. the self insert is inserting, i literally had a mini flare up and was scratching at my ezcema while writing this

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[seiya-starsniper]

"I love your smile" with dreamling from the gentle prompts

Hello I am 8 million years later answering this anon, sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy it!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Also available on AO3

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It’s the kind of perfect spring day that the poets used to write about. Cool in the morning and warm, but not hot by mid-afternoon. There are sparse clouds in the sky, and the air is fragrant with the smell of flowers, of new life, of new beginnings. The fact that this perfect spring day also falls on a Saturday means that Hob Gadling is out with his camera, photographing every leaf, every small creature, happy couple, and passing vehicle that catches his attention.

And of course, his boyfriend.

It may be a beautiful and warm spring day, but Dream Endless is dressed like it's still the middle of winter; black jeans and black Doc Martens paired with a black tee and black pea coat to complete the ensemble. Hob had managed to talk him out of wearing the black scarf, at least. He knew Dream ran cold even in the summer, but the scarf would have definitely been too warm for today. In contrast, Hob is out in just a plain white t-shirt, cargo shorts and sneakers, and he’s certain that the two of them must strike their own kind of picture walking side by side through the park. Perhaps he’ll ask someone to snap a photo of them on his phone later.  

Right now though, Hob’s having too much fun taking photos of Dream. Dream feeding the ducks with the small bag of seeds he’d brought along for just this purpose, Dream stopping to admire the various sculptures scattered throughout the park, Dream stopping to re-lace his boots. 

“You take far too many photos of me,” Dream tells Hob eventually, rolling his eyes as he stands back up.

“What can I say?” Hob laughs, snapping another photo of Dream’s unamused face. “I love your smile.”

“Hob,” Dream says, leveling a flat stare at him. Hob continues to click away. “I am not smiling in any of the photos you’ve taken.” 

He’s right, but only by a technicality. Dream hasn’t smiled once while looking at Hob’s camera. But the ones where he isn’t paying attention to Hob’s lens, well. That was a different story. But Dream didn’t need to know that right now. Later in the day, maybe. 

“I know this may be hard to believe since it ruins that whole tortured poet look you’ve got going on,” Hob quips back at his boyfriend, amusement clear in his tone. “But you do smile.” He says it like he’s sharing a secret, and Dream looks at him in disbelief, before he sighs in exasperation. It's a fond exasperation though, Hob’s learned to tell over the years.   

“Come. We are missing the goslings. We must catch them before they swim away,” Dream says, grabbing Hob by the hand and forcing him to put the camera down to rest around his neck. They walk over to where the geese and their recently hatched chicks are idling, and Dream approaches them slowly, kneeling and eventually sitting on a patch of dry grass closest to the pond’s edge. The geese eye him warily at first, but then Dream pulls out some seeds from his pocket, scattering them away from his person and sitting still as a statue while they slowly approach him.

Hob stays back away from where Dream is sitting; geese seem to hate him for some reason, but Dream has yet to meet a bird that doesn’t instantly take to him. It’s one of the things that Hob had noticed about the other man. 

They’d met a little over two years ago in this very park, and Hob had been enraptured by Dream feeding the pigeons. He’d only meant to snap one or two photos of the strange goth man, but then one of the pigeons had flown up onto Dream’s shoulder and cooed happily as the man fed it straight from his hand. Dream’s smile had been small, but absolutely radiant in that moment. Hob fell in love at first sight. 

Dream, decidedly, had not. He thought Hob to be a nuisance, had thrown a fit about having his photo taken without his knowledge or permission when Hob approached him. Hob had promised to not post any of the photos anywhere, and even offered to delete all of them if Dream saw them and really hated them that much. It would’ve killed Hob to delete such stunning photos, but he would’ve done it. 

Luckily for him, Dream had softened when Hob had shown him the photos, then demanded Hob print them for him for free.  Hob agreed, and then, because he had absolutely no self control around beautiful people, had asked Dream if he’d let Hob buy him dinner as an additional apology. Dream turned him down, and then also refused to give Hob his name when asked. Hob was hopelessly charmed.

After bringing the other man the agreed upon photos a week later, Hob promised not to photograph him if they ever ran into each other again. Dream looked at Hob like he didn’t believe the other man, but Hob kept his word, and for a time they maintained a pleasant, but distant acquaintance whenever they happened upon one another on days when the weather was nice.

It was Dream, surprisingly, who decided to approach Hob with a rather lucrative offer a few months later.

“I’m interested,” Dream had told him.

“In me?” Hob asked, surprised and flattered all at once. 

“In your photography experience,” Dream clarified, though his cheeks had pinked at Hob’s words. “My sibling is getting married in a few months and they have yet to find a photographer they like.”

“Well, I can give you my website so you can show them my portfolio—” 

“They’ve already seen it,” Dream interrupted him, blushing all the way from the tip of his nose down to his neck. “I—they wanted me to ask you if you’d shoot for their wedding. Personally.”

The rest, they say, is history. Hob hasn’t stopped photographing Dream ever since—with permission, of course.

In the present, Hob watches Dream’s patience and gentle tenacity pay off. The goslings eventually crowd around him and chirp happily, while the parental (Mother? Father? Hob can’t tell) goose angrily hisses at every other passing person who gets too close. They seemed to have claimed Dream as one of their own. 

Hob’s camera clicks away until he hears a low warning beep signifying that his memory card is full. 

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have taken that 25 minute video of Dream feeding the crows the other day. But well, they’d all crowded around him and he’d looked so happy. The crows looked happy too, probably because Dream may as well look like them. It was cinematic art, and Hob would not be convinced otherwise. 

When Dream eventually runs out of seeds, he bows his head and holds out his empty hands, a universal sign for the end of their interaction. The geese seem to realize quickly he will no longer feed them, and so they wander off into the nearby lake, the babies eagerly and awkwardly following their parent on tiny legs still unused to traveling by land. Hob waits until they’re all safely in the water before he takes a seat next to Dream. 

“Have you finally tired of photographing my face?” Dream asks before resting his head on Hob’s shoulder. 

“Never,” Hob answers with a small laugh. “I ran out of memory.”

Dream lets out a dramatic sigh. “Finally.”

“Oh hush, you,” Hob replies, jostling Dream with his shoulder. The other man groans at having been disturbed, and Hob takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around Dream’s shoulder, before planting a kiss to his hair. 

“Show me?” Dream asks, reaching for Hob’s camera. “I want to see just what it is you find so fascinating about watching me feed waterfowl.”

Hob chuckles.

“Everything, love,” he answers honestly as he pulls up the photos for them to review on his camera’s tiny screen. “Absolutely everything.”

[thebrothel]

I often think about this scene 😵‍💫

Joel is quiet for a few seconds, then asks, "What if I told ya to suck his dick?

"No!"

"You'd say no to me?"

"I'd ask if I really have to."

I'm sure it will never happen but what if Sweet pea dreams about it👀

500 words, dark!Joel x you x dark!Carter

Kate, you menace 😫🫶 Thank you for enabling me. I think about this too. Source of quote. Technically, it's a bit of a nightmare. CW dark

You don't wanna think about Carter that way, but you can't help it after Joel mused about you sucking his dick. It was a test, just a test, but he put the image in your mind and it's what you're thinking of when you drift off to sleep. . .

😴💤💤 You're sitting in Joel's lap, facing Carter across the breakfast table. You're in a dress with no panties, impaled on Joel's cock. He’s slowly moving you with his massive hands on your hips. “mm,” he sighs as you lean back. He nibbles at your neck.

Carter quietly sips his coffee. There's something different about Carter. Not just his black eye. Joel pulls you back hard, nudging your cervix and you gasp. You brace your hands on the table. Carter winks at you.

Joel brings his lips to your ear. “Whatcha think, sweet pea?” His hips lift you. “Wanna suck his dick?”

Your face catches fire and your heart races. “No,” you claim.

Carter puts down his coffee, chuckles, and stands up, revealing a massive bulge in his sweatpants. He palms himself as he comes around the table, and your walls twitch around Joel at the sight.

“Don't lie to me, baby,” Joel murmurs. He grabs your tits and pulls you back against him.

Carter squeezes between you and the table. He pulls down his waistband. You're full of Joel’s cock, staring at Carter's gorgeous length as Joel’s hips move under you.

“Just a little kiss,” Carter whispers. “If ya want,” he winks.

You shake your head no but your walls squeeze around Joel’s cock again.

“Don't say no to him,” Joel cautions you. “You wanna, don't ya?”

It's a trap with no way out.

Precum is beading at Carter’s tip until he swipes it away with his thumb. He brings his thumb to your lips and you kiss the salty liquid off.

“Good girl,” Joel whispers. “Just a lil kiss that's all.”

Joel’s chest nudges you forward. Carter sits on the table and spreads his knees. His balls are big, too. His pubic hair is soft looking. Just a tad redder than his scruff. Joel scoots the chair forward and you moan at the jolt of his cock.

“It's ok,” Carter whispers.

You brace your hands on his thighs and he holds his cock for you. Another pearl of precum is forming. Before he can wipe it away, you lean forward and kiss it off. Your lips gently seal around the top half of his tip and your tongue darts out against the slit.

Carter groans.

Joel pulls you back by the hair and your heart skips a beat. He holds you against his chest with one arm while he reaches into the waistband of his pj pants and pulls out a pistol. Carter is sitting calmly with his cock in his hand like he knew it was gonna happen. “Sorry, sweet pea,” Carter mutters apologetically. Joel cocks the hammer, and you wake up.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Bittersweet, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Talk of Pregnancy, Mentions of Past Abuse, Typical COD Violence, Fluff.

Summary: Coming home to find out Simon was leaving was hard, but this time is worse.

Beta Reader:

The door to your flat was usually easy to push open, but today when you shoved it open with your foot while you balanced two large brown bags of groceries, it stopped. Half way open, half closed. Turning sideways you manage to squeeze in between the doorway and the ajar door. Setting the bags down on the counter you turn towards the door that has now swung shut. 

On the floor sits a black military grade duffle bag, a velcro British flag on the front. Your stomach drops, settling on the floor. There was only one thing that bag being the door could mean. Your eyes water slightly as footsteps come down the hallway. Your eyes slide over to the figure standing in the hallway. Simon stands there, hands in the pockets of his black pants. The black t-shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest, his tactical vest hanging from one hand. The other clutching his skull balaclava, as his brown eyes flicker from you to the bags of groceries on the counter. 

“You’re leaving?” You ask, your voice soft as you fight the tidal pool of emotions bubbling in your chest. 

“Love, I know.. I know I just got back.. But you know how it is,” Simon sighs, coming into the room and putting his vest and mask on the kitchen table. He walks over to you, coming to stand in front of you. His hands run up your arms, to rest on your shoulders, as you take a shaky breath. 

“I, I know. But.. You just got back.”

Simon’s large hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tipping your face up so your eyes meet. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Simon whispers, his thumb stroking the side of your jaw. 

“I’m going to miss you so much..” you whisper, your voice cracking as your eyes close, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Oh, Love, don’t cry…” He whispers, hastily wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his fingers.

“I-I’m sorry,” You whimper as Simon pulls you close to him, pressing your face into his chest with a hand in your hair.  Your tears soak the fabric of his black shirt as he runs his free hand up and down your spine in soothing circles. His heart beat wildly in his chest under your cheek, like a caged bird. Simon's lips press to your head, a chorus of soft murmuring on his lips as he holds you. 

“Lovie, I know how hard it must be for you. For me to be gone for unknown periods of time, with no clue where I am, what I'm doing, if I'm okay. But I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to come back to you.” He pulls you away from his chest slightly, looking at your tear stained face. 

“I know, I just worry about you. Being out there literally fighting for your life sometimes,” you sniffle. “I mean how can I not? You’re out there risking your lives for everyone alone.”

“I’m not alone, I have my team, Soap, Gaz, Price. They’re there looking out for me. We have each other’s backs. And they know if something were to happen to me, to look out-”

“Don’t. Don't say something like that,” you cut him off, your hand coming to rest over his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “you will come back to me okay?” 

Simon's brown eyes soften as he nods, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm. You let your hand fall to your side, turning back to the groceries you begin pulling items from the bag. Placing them on the white countertop. Simon’s eyes follow your movements as you begin to put the various items away in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“I know,” you place a can of peas in the cabinet.

“I love you,” he whispers, coming to stand behind you. His hands sliding around your middle and hugging you tight against him. His body heat warms your back as his hands press into the soft flesh of your hips. A storm of emotion rages in your gut as you try to hold it together, be strong for him. For Simon. 

“I love you too,” you whisper, resting your hands on his. “You need to go, Price will be wondering why you’re late.”

You feel Simon’s sigh without hearing it, his lips pressing to the side of your head before he uses his hands to turn you in his arms. His fingers catch your chin as he tips your head up. His lips slanting to fit over yours in a slow kiss. Your hands trail slowly up his chest to fist in the soft fabric of his shirt. Twisting the material in your fingers you pull yourself impossibly closer to him. Simon's hand slides from your chin to the side of your neck. His fingers resting on your pulse point, applying a slight pressure to it. The small possessive move from Simon, sends a jolt of reassurance through you. 

Simon hated leaving just as much as you did. Of course he wouldn’t tell anyone that it tore his heart out, that it made him feel like he was leaving half of himself behind. Like he was ripping Simon out of himself and leaving him behind with you. Leaving only Ghost, the hardened soldier with him out on the missions. 

You gasp for breath as he pulls back, his face still close to yours. His warm minty breath fanning across your face. “Be good, I’ll see you soon.” 

‘Be safe,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his once more. With a heavy sigh Simon pulls away from you. Your body suddenly cold from the lack of body heat that radiates from Simon. You watch with sad eyes as he pulls on his tactical gear, and finally the skull balaclava. The face of the man you came to love disappearing behind the black fabric. 

Simon grabs his bag from behind the door, taking one last look at you as you stand in the middle of the kitchen. You looked so small standing in the kitchen with your arms wrapped around yourself. Like you were trying to hold back everything you were feeling. You were and that tore at him, he never wanted to upset you. But he had made a commitment a long time ago to the SAS, to Task Force 141. He couldn't just go back on those commitments, and you knew that. You had told him so, that you understood why he had to go save the world. 

You turn away from him as he reaches for the door, busying yourself with putting the groceries away. The soft sound of the latch clicking shut is what breaks you. The tears fall freely as you rest your hands on the counter. Leaning over slightly as you sob openly, hands gripping the white countertop like a lifeline. It never got easier.

It will never get easier.

Watching Simon walk out that door never knowing if it’ll be the last time.

Never knowing how he’ll come home.

If he’ll come home.

Your shoulders shake and you sink to the cool laminate tile floor of the kitchen, your head in your hands. The loneliness was the worst, the quiet that greeted you around every corner. The overwhelming silence; it was deafening. 

You aren't sure how much time has passed before you're able to pull yourself together enough to get up off the floor. Wiping the tear stains from your cheeks you stand, straightening out the rumpled fabric of your sweater and taking a steadying breath. Grabbing one of the paper bags and folding it up to put in the recycling, you stuff it down into the bin. As you grab the second bag from the counter you reach into it and pull out the last item you didn't want to pull out before Simon left. 

You pick up the box and turn it over in your hands, the bright pink box staring up at you like a flag. They should really make these boxes more discreet, not everyone was trying to shout this kind of stuff out to the world. 

You take what feels like your millionth deep breath of the afternoon and quickly shove the remaining bag down into the recycling. Your stomach turns as you glance at the pregnancy test box.

Did you want to know?

Should you just wait for Simon to get back?

Maybe it was all in your head anyways.

Yeah, it was all in your head. There was no way you could be pregnant. You and Simon were careful, always taking the right precautions. You knew how he felt about kids, he didn't want them. He didn't want to end up like his father. No matter how many times you told him that he could never be his father. His father was a terrible man, who had no regard for a child's life. He didn't deserve to be a father with the way he treated Simon and Tommy. But Simon wouldn't hear it because he insisted that he on some level was also a monster. 

He didn't care that he killed people, that he slaughtered anyone who stood in his way of completing his missions. He’s told you of how he killed an entire compound of people after he found out his family was murdered. He would do it again, without a second thought. 

To you, Simon wasn't a stone cold killer. He was the man who brought you your favorite drink when you were having a bad day. The one bought you the expensive coffee maker you wanted even though he doesn't drink it. He’s the one who holds the door open for you, and makes you breakfast. The guy who walks on the outside of the sidewalk to protect you from cars. The same guy who picked you up off the bathroom floor when you were sick and nursed you back to health.

He was a little rough around the edges, and getting him to open up was the hardest thing you ever had to do. But he was still Simon, under all the trauma and pain, he was still a man who needed someone to love him. Someone to make him feel safe enough to take off his mask at the end of the day. 

The day he took off his mask fully in front of you for the first time you sobbed. You spent hours tracing the scars along his face as he laid his head in your lap. He was taken back when you called them beautiful. He insisted that they couldn't possibly be beautiful, they were flaws, reminders of what he did out there. To you the silvery scars along his body were proof of what he’s overcome. The strength he had, the fight to survive.

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts muddling your brain and head into the bathroom. You set the box down on the counter and chew your bottom lip. Anxiety swirling in your stomach the longer you stare at it. 

No.

Not today. 

If you took the test today you would be alone for however long dealing with whatever the results were. Aimlessly waiting for Simon to return home so you could discuss them, positive or negative. 

With one last glance at the box you leave the bathroom, closing the door rightly behind you. You stuff down the lonely feeling that crashes into you as you look around your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, just like always. That was all Simon. He claimed it was a habit from being in the service. You often poked fun at him for spending so much time each morning pulling the sheets taught, and smoothing the blankets like his life depended on it. You laughed the first time you walked in on him trying to figure out how to arrange the throw pillows you had added. 

Simon was grumbling about not seeing a point of having pillows you did even sleep with, while you argued that not everything had to be practical. He disagreed but let you keep them anyway after seeing the smile it brought to your face. He would do just about anything to see you smile, which is why it killed him to see you cry when he left. 

You flop onto the made bed, effectively ruining the pristine sheets and blankets. A heaviness settles over you as you lay there, your face buried in Simon’s pillow, inhaling the smell of his cologne. Tears burn the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You can't spend the next however long falling apart. So instead you, do your best to turn it off. Get through it one day at a time.

That's all you can do, take it one day after another.

Just like every other time.

~~~~ 3 weeks later~~~

“Love? Is that you?” Simon's voice calls as you push the door closed. Your heart skips a beat, as you drop your bag to the ground. You take a few steps into the apartment and stop at the doorway of the living room. 

Simon stands in the middle of the living room between the couch and the entertainment center. Tears cloud your vision as you stare at him, he was there, all of him. His brown eyes are tired, but he has a smile on his face. He always looked tired after coming back from a mission. Days of getting little to no sleep in the field. The physically grueling work of running after people, constantly being on guard. It took a toll on him, you knew that. But no matter how tired he was he would wait to see you before heading off to bed. Oftentimes he would convince you to join him, just wanting to feel you in his arms after not seeing you.

“You’re back…” Your voice cracks as you close the distance between you. You launch yourself into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist as you bury your face into his neck. Simon wraps his arms around your waist as he buries his face in your hair.

“I told you I would come back to you,” his voice is quiet as he moves over to the couch and sits, holding you on his lap. You knees on either side of his thighs, his hands coming to rest on your hips. Simon draws lazy circles on the skin there, as you just look at him for a moment. You take in the features of his face, his warm brown eyes. The way his nose is slightly crooked from being broken one too many times. The silvery scar that runs down the side of his jaw, the small patch of his eyebrow that is missing due to the scar running through it. 

“Can you explain something to me, sweetheart?” Simon asks, shifting you slightly so he can pull something out of his pocket. You furrow your brows as he takes a moment to pull the object from his pocket.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he pulls out the pink pregnancy test box from one of the pockets of his cargo pants. Your eyes search Simon’s face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but his face is a wall of impassive emotion. You chew on your bottom lip as you take a few deep breaths.

“I-I can explain.” 

“I would appreciate an explanation.”

“I know.. Look. I just… I have this feeling but I didn't want to say anything if I wasn’t sure. But then you got called away, and I couldn't bring myself to take one when you were gone. Because, I mean, what if it was positive? I couldn't let myself sit here for god knows how long harboring that information. So I didn't do it. And I know. I know how you feel about kids. I know you don't want them Simon. I get that. And that's okay. I mean it might be negative. So i don't even know why i'm so worr-” Simon presses his fingers to your lips silencing the onslaught of nervous rambling.

“I’m not upset with you,” Simon removes his fingers and grabs one of your hands, squeezing it lightly. “Whatever it says we’ll figure it out. Together okay?” 

You give him a small nod, looking down at your hands for a moment before he turns your hand over and places the box in your hand.Your eyes flicker up to his, and he gives you a small smile. “Now?” You whisper.

“It’s better to know now, while we have options,” he whispers, running his hand up and down your arms. After a moment you let out a breath and slid off of his lap, slowly walking towards the bathroom. You glance over your shoulder at Simon as he sits on the couch, legs slightly spread, one arm draped over the back. 

Simon gives you another small smile, as you head into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly take the test according to the instructions. After you wash your hands you place it on the bathroom counter and open the door. Simon is still sitting on the couch, but his head is back, his eyes closed. 

You can see just how exhausted he is from the mission. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, the tension in his shoulders more evident. He lifts his head when you take a step towards him. 

“How long until we know?” He asks, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Three..” You whisper, plopping down onto the couch next to him. His arm wraps around your shoulder as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Whatever happens, I’m not going to take off on you okay?” Simon says softly, his fingers rubbing the fabric of your sweater. 

“Simon.. I-i don't think I can get rid of a baby… The thought of getting rid of a part of you… especially a part of you that isn't going into war zones all the time. I cant… I can't.” Your eyes fill with tears. 

Simon shifts and his finger catches your chin, turning your face towards him. His dark eyes are serious, as he looks at you. “Sweetheart, I mean it. Whatever happens we’ll get through it. I won't make you do something you don’t want to do. Okay? If the test is positive, we’ll go over our options.. And if it's not we can talk about it, alright Lovie?” 

You smile, “Okay,” you whisper and press your lips against his softly. Simon’s hand slides to the back of your head as he kisses you a few more times. 

The sound of the alarm on your phone going off pulls you both from the moment, and Simon pulls you up by your hand. “Ready?”

“Ready.” 

You both head into the bathroom, Simon gives you one last look before he picks up the small plastic stick in his hands. He turns it over and stares at it for a moment. Anxiety swirls in your stomach as he looks at, and then he turns it towards you. One solid pink line stares back at you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It rushes from your lungs as relief, but your eyes water as you stare at the negative test.

Negative.

You should be relieved. 

You weren’t ready to have a kid.

Were you?

“You okay?” Simon whispers, his fingers brushing across your cheek, catching the tears that are falling.

“I-I think so? I mean, i don't know,” you whisper as Simon drops the test in the trash and leans down lifting you into his arms. He carries you into your bedroom and sets you down on the bed, then settles in next to you. His arms pull you firmly against his side, as he leans his head on yours.

“What are you feeling? Talk to me.”

“I guess, relief… but also I'm kinda sad.. I think?”

Simon is quiet for a moment, his hand stroking your hair and neck. You can practically hear the gears in his head turning. “I understand. I was a little disappointed too.” He admits, causing you to look up at him. 

“You were disappointed?” You whisper, and Simon nods slightly.

“I know that I keep telling you how I don't want kids because of my dad. Because of the way he was with me and Tommy… and because of what happened I'm afraid that I'll be anything like him. That i’d ruin whatever precious child you could give me. But I also know that you are not my mom. You would never stand by and let that happen.” He brushes your hair behind your ear.

“So the thought of being like my dad scares the crap outta me, but I can't lie and say that the thought of coming home to you, a little boy or girl, doesn't excite me on some level. I just want you to be happy. And if you want children, I'd happily give them to you. I would do anything to make you smile. I’d give you a whole army of them if that's what you wanted.” 

“Do you mean that?” You look up at him, and Simon smiles.

“Of course I mean that.”

“I..I don't think I want them right now.. But I do want them with you eventually.” You whisper, and Simon leans in kissing you. His hands cupping the sides of your face.

“Then that's what you’ll get. Whenever you’re ready. “

You rest your hands on the side of his face, “but until then… how about until then we get some practice in…” you whisper, and pull Simon in for a kiss. Simon smiles into the kiss, before he slides you under him. Holding himself up off you as he nips at your lips. 

“I think practicing is a good idea,”

[callmeoncette]

Southern Hospitality

Hobie Brown x black!fem!reader

You’re the spider-woman of your universe and you happen to reside in the southern states. Let’s see how your man, and your friends, react to your southern hospitality when you invite them over for dinner

There’s no warnings I can think of rn but if you think I need to add some let me know pls! Also reader is based on my spidersona ngl but it’s not too descriptive other than her being black, southern, and her hairstyle.

You hummed softly along with the H.E.R playing as you washed greens in your sink. After finishing a mission that took a week you decided that the gang deserved a nice meal. Meaning that in a few you’d have Miles, Pavitr, Gwen, and Hobie were going to be in your home for the first time. Time to break out the good incense and candles.

You were happy to see all of them but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t looking forward to see Hobie the most. The Brit managed to catch and keep your attention. He was your man officially or unofficially!

The two of you clashed beautifully. He was all long limbs and spikey accessories with dark colors while you were splashes of bright colors and fur. He was the calm cool too your bubbly goofy self. Spider-Punk Man and Jumpin-Spyda. Two peas in a pod.

As you continued around the kitchen you suddenly felt an all too familiar tingle as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You heard the portal before you saw it. Out stepped Gwen dressed casually and Hobie.

Gwen took in a deep breath before sighing in delight, “[name] it smells amazing in here!” The girl said scurrying into kitchen. You smiled and turned to her as you wiped your hands on a hand towel, “Aw thank y-AHT!” You quickly popped the spider teen’s hand when you caught her peeking in the pot on the stove. She pouted and snatched her hand back with a small ‘hey!’. Hobie snorted a bit and walked over to you. He peered at you with low eyes, “does smell good in ‘ere though. My lil peng ting cookin’ for me?” His arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer to him while you giggled. You reached a hand up to cup his face kiss as he leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips.

The cute moment was ruined by Gwen gagging dramatically right as another Portal opened. Pavitr hopped out excitedly looking around. “Wooow [name]! Your place is so nice!” The cheery young man said walking over. “You just missed it. They were being gross and mushy.” Gwen told him making him frown, “awww I missed my favorite not-couple-couple doing cute things…”. You laughed and gently lead all three of them to your living room, “okay out. Love y’all, but you crowding my kitchen.”

For the next several minutes you finished up cooking while they talked to you from the couch. It mostly consisted of them talking about the mission, Hobie complaining about Miguel, and Pav asking to see your puppy to which you kept telling him he could play with him after eating. Just as you finished with the last thing and turned off the stove your heard the ripping that comes with a portal.

Miles jumped out and looked around, “Aw man! I’m last again?!” The youngest of group groaned.

“When aren’t you?”

“Sounds bout right lil bro.”

“Just the usual, bruv.”

“It’s your thing, honestly!”

He groaned even louder throwing his head back making everyone laugh.

“Okay everyone go wash y’a nasty ass hands an’ then we can eat!” You say clapping your hands together with a big smile excited for everyone to try your food. You washed your hands before grabbing plates while everyone else did. As they passed you handed out a plate till you got to the tall dark skin.

You waved him off, “I’ll make yours, baby. Go sit down.” Pav awed at the interaction, Gwen gagged again, and Miles just moved to put food on his plate. Hobie moved hovering over you as you piled good onto his plate, “ain’t gotta do tha’ love.” He mumbled. You paused and looked up at him through your thick lashes, “but I want to. That cool?”

Was it? Hobie was a very independent individual. Didn’t like bothering others plus why ask someone to do something that he could just do for himself? But as he looked at you with your glossed lips that shined just right in your kitchen lighting and your bits of hair that fell in your face perfectly from the wig he watched you install on FaceTime the other he realized he’d like to depend on you. He’d like to ask you to help him sort his CD’s and vinyls, help him with his hair even. Hobie that existed before meeting you would laugh and call current Hobie love-sick.

“Well?” Your voice cut through his thoughts.

He blinked, “uhhh, yeah. Yeah that’s fine, sweetheart.” He said keeping up his cool persona.

You nodded, “okay cool. You can go sit I’ll bring it to you.” Nonchalant as you continue with your task. He actually listens without a fuss and sits at the table.

The kids sat as well leaving you a seat next to Hobie and watch as you bring his food before getting your own.

“Oh my parents!” Pavitr cried out making Miles snorted and choke a bit on food.

“Hey I thought I was your favorite! How come Hobie gets his brought to him?” Gwen asked trying her best to pull a hurt face.

You sit down with your own food and shrug, “southern hospitality? Plus best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!”

——————————

Shoutout to princess and the frog cuz I had the dream this is based on while I fell asleep watching it!

[veritas-scribblings]

welcome - @jegulus-microfic - words: 843

[Exists within the same universe as ‘safe’ and ‘more’]

It’s raining, night-time, when Regulus shows up at the Potter home. A full school term ago, Sirius had been the one standing in his place and since then, their relationship has been broken. Not that they had ever really seen eye-to-eye to begin with, but as far as James knows, Sirius and Regulus have barely spoken. James has been the not-quite-mediator. The neutral middle space. Switzerland. Not passing messages like an owl, but rather, checking in with both boys to ensure their conflict and hadn’t mutated into something worse.

But James has always been Switzerland.

So when Regulus shows up on the Potter’s doorstep, everyone is caught off guard. He has a small bag thrown over his shoulder and the hood of his cape ominously pulled up, giving the impression of a midnight vigilante. It’s James who answers the door and finds Regulus. Wet. Blank-faced. His black curls water-logged and plastered to his forehead like he’s forgotten that Umbrella Charms exist. Sirius stands on the staircase to the left of the entrance hall some distance behind James just staring, speechless. 

‘Regulus,’ James breathes. 

Regulus’s nose is pink from the cold. His cheeks are pink. He has his scarf coiled around his neck, thick and yellow and fluffy. Regulus places his bag by the open front door and simply invites himself inside, barely acknowledging Sirius’s presence.

‘It’s cold,’ he informs them. ‘I’d like a cup of tea.’ He says this firmly, pulling his gloves off and lowering the hood of his robe. Like he is a guest in their home, one who has been invited over, and they are the ones who have dropped the quaffle on basic tenets of hospitality.

Sirius charges down the stairs and stops in front of Regulus. ‘Do mother and father know you’re here?’ he demands. ‘Did they send you after me or something?’

Sirius doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, James knows. He’s wanted Regulus here, was conflicted for months about leaving without telling Regulus, had feared the reaction of their parents. It had kept Sirius up many nights trapped in a tug-of-war between knowing he had to leave and feeling some sort of retrospective responsibility for Regulus now that he was out of Grimmauld Place. 

Regulus shrugs. ‘Possibly, I wouldn’t know,’ he says in a low voice. He tucks the gloves under his arm. ‘So, tea?’

James grins. ‘Tea,’ he repeats, delighted. ‘Come on, mum’s in the kitchen, there’s some chai. She makes it when it’s raining.’ He leads Regulus down the hall and into the kitchen, which smells like roast (it was his father’s turn to cook). 

James knows Regulus loves Yorkshire pudding, knows that Regulus loves crispy roast potatoes slathered in gravy. He knows Regulus hates peas, that Regulus hates cheese sauce, loves crispy Brussel sprouts fried with bacon and parsnip mash.

Euphemia and Fleamont Potter greet Regulus warmly when Regulus sits down at the bench in the kitchen. They’re used this now—boys taking up residence in the Potter Home for Runaways—and have long stopped questioning it since Marlene ‘ran away’ when she was seven. 

James potters around, heats the chai on the stove, grabs a plate to fetch Regulus dinner because the Potters feed people as a form of love language. Sirius floats by the door. He’s trying to determine whether Regulus is staying or whether Regulus has an ulterior motive. Because Sirius is wary of being hurt; it’s a trait that both brothers possess. 

‘You can have the bedroom down the hall from me and Sirius,’ James says. He looks over to his mother for confirmation and she nods. Unlike when Marlene had ‘run away’, she won’t be contacting home. She understands. 

‘Great!’ James chirps. ‘Mum’ll put linens in the room. And sweets on the pillows or something.’ He places the plate and mug of chai in front of Regulus and grins. ‘You know, Dad keeps a potions lab. It’s a small one, but it’s got almost everything. He could show you. Dad, Regulus is a genius at potions, you know.’ At Regulus’s look of scepticism, he adds, ‘Crouch says you could brew an explosive to blow up the school if you wanted to.’

Regulus scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. He looks around and seems to note that Sirius is gone. Pushing the food around his plate, he says, ‘I’m sorry for putting you out,’ because he was evidently raised to have manners. 

‘Nonsense,’ Euphemia says. She crosses the room and places a reassuring hand on Regulus’s shoulder, and then immediately notes how tense Regulus becomes at this and withdraws her hand. ‘We’re glad you’re here. And Sirius is too. Just…give him time.’

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ James says, and he means this from the bottom of his heart. He does. He really does. 

Regulus nods. It’s a placating nod. He still isn’t sure. But that’s okay, James decides, because he’ll do everything he can to make sure Regulus believes it.

[funnyjb]

Practice day

The morning started like every other morning. You wrapped in your husband’s arms. It was mid October in Cincinnati. The team is having practice today from 10am-3pm. You have a doctor’s appointment today to check up on baby burrow #3. You guys don’t know the gender until another 2 weeks! Joe and you couldn’t be more excited!

Since you have an appointment and your parents aren’t in town or Joe’s, Joey decided to take the kids to practice today. Some of the players have been taking their kids to practice because it’s take your kids to work week, and you would think it’s take your kid to work day but I guess not! Emerson and Max are like two peas in a pod. Where ever the other one goes the other always follows. So when it’s take your kids to work week at practice you know they will both be there.

“Good morning, baby.”- Joe

“Good morning, Joey.”- you

Joe kissed your forehead and got up.

“I’m going to wake the boys up.”- Joe

He then opened the door and walked down the hallway to the boys bedroom.

You decided to get up to. It was cold today so once your feet hit that floor it felt like walking on ice almost. You did your normal routine. Skincare, brush teeth, and pick out an outfit. Your outfit today consisted of a white long sleeve shirt and a black onesie paired with your sneakers. Your hair was already curled from work yesterday so you didn’t really have to do anything to it, so you decided to head downstairs and make breakfast.

Once you got downstairs Joe and the boys were already watching tv.

“Hi!”- you

You go over to the couch we’re Joe and the boys were snuggling. You kiss all of your boys good morning.

“Hi mama!”- max

“Hi Maxie!”- you

After you say good morning to them you go over to the kitchen to make breakfast.

“Here, babe, let me help you!”- Joe

He sprinted off the couch to go to you

Joe always likes to cook with you. He isn’t a very good cook so he likes to learn from you, but he also just goes to admire you and be around you.

“Okay! Can you start by getting the eggs and heating up the pan for me, please?”- you

“Of course, baby.”- Joe

————————————————————————

After breakfast it was time for the boys to head out and for you to head to the doctors.

“Okay, boys! It’s 10:30, let’s go!”- You

“Otay, mama.”- Emerson

“Thanks em. Let’s get your shoes on!”- you

You put down Emerson on the small bench at the front door to put his shoes on and bend down.

“Hey, hey, I got it babe.”- Joe

“It’s ok, Joe.”- you

“I got it y/n. Don’t want you hurting yourself.”- joe smiles

“Thank you.”- you smile back

He helps you get up and starts to tie Emerson’s shoe.

“Ok, max! You ready to play ball with daddy?!”- you

“Yessss!”- max

You laugh

“Ok, we are ready.”- Joe

“Let’s go!”- you

You all step outside and close the door behind you.

“Boys, say bye to mommy.”- joe

“Bye!”- Emerson and Max

They run up to you and give you a big hug.

“Bye baby’s! I love you and I will see you soon!”- you give them a kiss

Soon after they run off to Joes car. Joe then comes up to you with a big smile.

“I love you, have fun with them.”- you smile

“I love you too, and good luck today. I can’t wait to hear all about you and the baby.”- Joe

“I will let you know! And good luck today at practice 9!”- you

“Thanks, baby.”- Joe

He kisses you, then looks into your eyes, then kisses you again. You start laughing.

“Joe- you got- to go.”- you laugh

“One more!”- Joe

He kisses you one last time and then is off to his car and drives out.

————————————————————————-

“Good hustle, good hustle.”- Zach

The team was running some practice runs and warm up’s before some of them got to be with their children.

The boys were sitting on the bench with some other kids and bengals staff looking after them.

“Ok, you guys may go be with your kids. Have fun!”- Zach

Joe the comes running up to the boys.

“Hey guys!”- joe

“Daddy!”- Emerson and Max

They give Joe a big hug.

Joe then takes a big sip of water and gets a towel to wipe some sweat off.

“Ready to play some ball?”- Joe

“Yeah!”- Emerson and Max

The boys run off to an open patch on the practice field with Joe walking behind watching. Joe felt so happy knowing his boys are having fun.

After Joe made the boys do some easy stretches they got to work.

“Set, Hut!”- Joe

Max took off as Emerson was defending.

Joe threw the ball not to far so the boys could get it. Max caught the ball! He ran to the end of the cone which meant the end zone.

“Yeah max!” - Joe

He ran over to max to give him a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Maxie!”- Joe

“Thanks dada!”- Max

Joe then noticed Emerson looking a little down. He got up and went over to his boy.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?- Joe

He bent down to his level

“I really wanted to get da ball!”- Emerson said angry

“I know bud, I’m sorry. How about you play receiver this time and max plays defense? Does that sound ok?”- Joe

“Yess!”- Emerson

“Good! You did great out there too! I’m so proud of you!”- Joe

“Thanks dada!”- Emerson

Emerson then took off to get in formation.

The boys had so much fun! They played for an hour until you came to see them!

You stepped onto the practice fields to see the boys play with Joe. You saw them in a corner playing with some cameras and bengals staff and players watching. You wondered if Joe cared that there were cameras but if he was with his kids he doesn’t care about anything. He only cares about his kids.

As you got closer you noticed Sam.

“Hey, sam!”- you

“Hey, y/n! Joe are you?”- Sam

He gives you a side hug

“I’m good! Just here to watch the boys!”- you

“They are having fun out there, I could tell Joe is excited to have them.”- Sam

“Yeah, he couldn’t wait to bring them.”- you

After talking to Sam for a bit a voice Interrupted you.

“MOMMY!” - Emerson

He came up running to hug you. You picked him up and gave him a kiss.

“Hey, buddy! Are you having fun?”- you

“Yesss!”- Emerson

“Good.”- you smile

“MAMA”- Max

He comes up and hugs your leg. You give him a kiss on the head.

“Hey, max! Are you also having fun with daddy?”- you

“Yess! He said to tell you that you look very pretty today.”- Max

Before you could say anything Joe came walking up to you.

“He’s not wrong!”- joe smirks

You laugh

“Thank you, baby.”- you

You give him a hug and he takes Emerson off your arms and puts him down.

“Having fun?”- you

“Lots!”- Joe

“Good.”- you

“Hey, how was the appointment?”- Joe

“It was good.”- you

Joe noticed a change in your demeanor.

“What’s wrong?”- Joe

“Nothing. We will talk about it later. I don’t want to talk about it here.”- you

“Oh, ok, but are you ok?”- Joe

“Yeah..I’m good.”- you give a small smile

“Ok, how about we head out I think they are getting tired”- Joe

“Ok.”- you

You say your goodbyes to the team and head out with your boys.

————————————————————————

(At home)

“The boys are asleep.”- you

You came over to Joe in the kitchen.

“Good.”- Joe

There was a moment of silence. You could tell Joe wanted to say something.

“So, do you think we can talk about what made you lose that beautiful smile of yours when I asked you about the appointment earlier?”- Joe

“Uh, sure..”- you

“So, what’s wrong?”- Joe

“The doctors just said that I just have to be careful and I might have to go on bed rest a little earlier. I was just worried, but everything is ok.”- You

“Oh, but why a little earlier?”- Joe

“Remember when I had the surgery right after the twins?”- you

“Yeah.”- Joe

“Well, they said that it could cause some problems if I get pregnant again so they told be to me careful.”- you

“Oh, ok, but whatever happens I’m here. And I will make sure that everything will be ok.”- joe

He pulls you in for a hug.

“I love you and our baby.”- Joe

“Well baby girl and I love you too.”- you smile

“Wait…it’s a girl? We are having a girl?!”- Joe

“Yeah, We are having a girl.”- you

He picks you up and spins you around.

“I know we wanted to wait but they told me today when they were explaining stuff to me.”- you

“Oh my god, y/n! We are having a girl.”- joe

You nod your head.

He pulls you in for another hug.

“I can’t wait for her to come to practice.”- Joe

“I can’t wait either.”- you smile

You the pull Joe in for a kiss

————————————————————————-

Request idea: @elly-grace

Thx for the idea!🩷

[offbrandhandymanny]

Cherry's Parents

Here's pt 3 to the CherryCola teen pregnancy AU, it's a long one so be prepared

Cherry awoke to her parents arguing in the kitchen

Cherry’s mom is hysterically crying at the table and her dad is screaming (nothing new)

They see her and ask her why the doctor's office is calling about Cherry’s pregnancy and her next steps

He’s all up in her face screaming at her about who the father is, what this is gonna do to their reputation and how stupid she is to get knocked up

Cherry through her tears, tells him that it's Sodapop Curtis and he just loses it

He throws chairs, glass, everything he can get his hands on on the ground, it hits Cherry in the leg

Her dad walks out and slams the door shut

Cherry’s mom is hysterically crying and Cherry walks over to her, her mom explains that all she wants is for Cherry to be happy and rich, and now she has no chance of that. Her mom tells her to get an abortion even though they are very against abortions

Cherry is so offended and just screams at her mom saying no she's keeping this baby

Couple hours go by and Cherry is just sitting in the kitchen after cleaning up all the glass on the ground

Cherry’s dad shows back to the house and immediately grabs Cherry by the arm (he grabs her so hard her arm turns red) and stuffs her in the car

Cherry’s so confused and scared because her dad isn't saying anything and is just driving crazily through the streets

She begs her dad to tell her where their going but no words come out of his mouth

30 minutes of driving and Cherry sees where their going, the abortion clinic

Cherry is furious and just begins screaming at her dad as he attempts to pull her out of the car

She explains that she's keeping the baby no matter what him or her mom say

Cherry’s dad is so furious he slaps Cherry (he hits her so hard, her face is bruised)

Cherry is shocked, she knew her dad was verbally abusive but never physically

She just sits there in shock as he furiously walks off

Cherry jumps out of the car and runs as fast as she can away from her dad

Luckily the abortion clinic was close enough to the east side that she can walk over to the Curtis house 

Cherry shows up to the Curtis door (her face is bright red from the tears and black and blue from the bruise)

Darrel opens the door seeing Cherry, he's very confused and very concerned. Poor girl immediately breaks down (with whatever tears she's got left) in front of Darrel who is so confused but obviously lets her in and comforts her

He grabs her frozen peas for her face and a whole box of tissues 

He holds the bag of peas to Cherry’s face as he tries to figure out what's wrong and why she's here

Soda hears the commotion and comes out of his room to Cherry bawling her eyes out on the couch with Darrel holding frozen peas to her face

He immediately looks so concerned and runs over to her asking Darrel what the hell happened to her

He kneels in front of Cherry who cant get any words out and Darrel is still so fucking confused (he didn’t even know Soda knew Cherry)

Darrel keeps asking Cherry what’s wrong but since Cherry can't get any words out, Soda’s the one who ultimately tells Darrel Cherry’s pregnant

Darrel is just sitting there looking at him like huh?

Cherry is finally able to get some sort of words out and tells Soda what her dad did to her and how he tried to get an abortion for her

Soda is so pissed off, he’s ready to beat her dad for what he did to her but she tells him he just wants him here with her

Soda puts her in his room (cause Pony’s with Johnny) and lets her sleep

pt 4 is gonna be the argument between Darry and Soda

[gavi3000]

the wii incident | pablo gavi

You shouldn’t have expected anything else from him honestly, with him being as competitive as he is. You should’ve known it would’ve ended with something along the lines of this: Pablo smiling sheepishly at you from where he stands at the top of your guys’ stairs with a brand new shiner decorating his left eye.

You immediately set your book down and get up from your designated reading chair, walking towards Pablo. “What happened?” You stop before him with an impatient look upon your face and raise your hand to carefully brush his bangs out of his eyes to get a closer look at the bruise.

“So…” he begins but then stops suddenly and meets your eyes guiltily. Nothing good can come from a shifty-eyed Pablo.

“So…?” You press, grabbing his hand and leading him gently to the kitchen, to which he complies like a puppy.

“We thought Wii boxing would be fun, but I didn’t put the strap on and I accidentally socked myself in the eye...” he explains, laughing quietly as you sit him down at your kitchen island.

You nod your head and fish out a pack of frozen peas from the freezer for him. “Only you would find a way to do that.”

“Babe, it’s not my fault, I swear! Pedri didn’t wear his either.” Pablo defends himself, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“He didn’t end up with a black eye though, did he?” You reply quickly, rolling your eyes playfully and handing him the frozen pack of peas.

All he can do is nod and mumble a weak, “you’re right,” and you chuckle, playing with the hem of his shirt; your fingers often finding themselves dancing on his stomach. It felt refreshing to be with him like this; so close to him. You found yourself constantly missing him, no matter how close he was. And almost as if he can read your mind— which sometimes you swear he can— he speaks up.

“I missed you today.”

You never expect him to say things like this so out of the blue, but when he does, you always make sure to bask in it. You were glad the missing each other was mutual, because it was almost ridiculous how much you missed the smallest things. The way he smelled, the way his eyes were always on yours before yours were on his, how it felt to run your hands over his own and more. The two of you hadn’t even been apart at all, or in a weird phase or anything, you just missed him. Your Pablo.

You cuddle into him farther, cozying up between his legs and smile up at him. “I missed you too.”

He kisses the top of your head sweetly and you hum, “so did you just leave Pedri down there?”

At that, Pablo starts laughing. He nods, “he wanted to keep playing.”

“‘Course he did. Hope he learned from your mistakes and put that damn strap on.”

[rjmartin11]

Hide and Go Seek One Shot

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: Elvis had been away from you for far too long, and you want to play with him in more ways than one.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. Viewer discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: Hello, world. RJ here. I'm just passing through with a one-shot that's been on the shelves of my mind for a while. I'm retired from writing, but I wanted y'all to have this. Something dirty. Enjoy.

・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・

It's been a full thirty-five days since Elvis left on his cross-country tour, and you missed him deeply. Even though he calls every few days to let you know where he is and how the shows are going, you need him around. His physical presence keeps you humble.

Although you have your hands full with a one year old baby boy. You want his daddy around to play with both of you. You feel like Elvis would have missed his first steps if he didn't walk in through the door that very moment.

He called you last night stating that he'd be home today. You haven't truly slept since the call. It only mattered that baby boy had rest, so he could play with daddy. You made sure he was fed and bathed.

You started cooking immediately for your weary traveler and his band of soldiers. All of Elvis' favorite dishes were to be made with exceptions. Fried chicken, barbecue chicken on the grill, potato salad, mustard greens, mashed potatoes with Smoky Mountain gravy, black-eyed peas, macaroni and cheese, cream onion casserole, and cornbread. For dessert, banana pudding, sweet potato pie, and Ms. Mary's chocolate cake.

You scrambled all over the kitchen with Ms. Mary and Ms. Nancy came in to help with the load. You worked a full six hours in preparation for your love to come home to a great meal. You knew the meals on the road consisted of junk food, so this had to be special.

As you started to slow down a bit, Ms. Nancy asked you to go upstairs and rest. You didn't want to fall asleep on Elvis, so you did as asked and slept for a few hours.

"Mama???" You hear his little voice from down the hall and open your eyes. "Mama???"

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and head to his room. You creep slow around the corner as you hear him continue to call your name. You peek your head in the door, and he starts to giggle. Your son has his daddy's contagious gift of laughter.

"Is that my little Garon?" You ask.

"Mama!" He says with excitement in his voice.

"Hi, Mama's baby boy. Mama's handsome baby boy," you say, taking him out of his crib.

You get him ready for the day, and you both head downstairs. The ladies have taken care of dinner just as promised. You hand Garon off to his Great Aunt Delta and Great-Grandma Dodger so you can finish getting dressed for Elvis' arrival. You take a quick shower and get your hair and makeup ready for him. You want to look irresistible for your love.

As you put the final touches on mascara, you hear a big commotion downstairs.

"Daddy's home," you say to yourself, finishing up.

You run out of the room and to the staircase just in time to see Elvis look up at you. His smile lights up the room, and your glows.

"Hello, Mrs. Presley," he says, greeting with Garon in his arm.

"Hello, my husband," you reply, walking down the stairs.

He walks up to you with his free arm open to you. You embrace him gently as your son is in his other arm. He kisses your head and whispers he missed you. You tell him how much you miss him and how glad he's home.

Everybody crowded into the kitchen to get a plate. You made Elvis' and Garon's plates first, and then everyone piled in for their plate. Ms. Nancy made you a plate, so you sit and eat.

For the next thirty to forty-five minutes, the house was alive with laughter and conversation. Everyone talking about the tour and their adventures on the road.

"All in all," Elvis starts, "it was an amazing trip. This tour was great. Now, I'm just grateful to rest for the next three months."

"Rest? My husband wants to rest?" You ask.

"Yes," he answered. "Traveling around the country is fun, but I wanna rest."

"I guess you can wait on that surprise I have for you," you whisper in his ear.

"Surprise??? Baby, you didn't have to get me anything."

"I wanted to," you say, kissing his cheek. "Get rid of the boys and come find me upstairs."

You pick up Garon and walk toward the door. You bid everyone good night. Your sister drops by and takes Garon home with her, so you and Elvis can have Graceland all to yourselves.

You go upstairs and wait for him on the bed. You waited six months, so another fifteen to thirty minutes wouldn't hurt.

You peek out the window as everyone leaves out the front door, piling into their cars. Elvis tells everyone goodnight and thanks them for everything. He turns and looks up at the window. He sees you staring back at him and smiles the notorious smile of his. You bite your lip and close the curtain.

Seconds later, he's up in the room looking at you sitting on the bed.

"My pretty little Satnin. How I've missed you," he whispers as he crawls on top of you.

"I missed you, E," you whisper back.

He starts passionately kissing. You start slipping your fingers in his hair as he does so, kissing him back. You've longed for this moment for six, dreaded long months.

You roll yourself on top of him and push yourself off of him. You stand in front of him and begin to undress. Elvis watches in awe of you. As you slip out of your panties, cock begins to tent in his pants.

"You missed me, E?" You ask.

"Can't you tell?" He asks back.

"Then why are your clothes still on?"

Without another thought, Elvis starts to unbutton his shirt and undo his belt. Pulling his pants down off of his hips, disposing them to the floor. His cock sits up long and hard before you. All the things you want to do his penis. All the things you've longed to do to his penis.

You bow in front of Elvis. Not allowing him to wait another moment to start to suck him off at the head of his cock. His head falls back, and he moans your name. You only do this for a few seconds until you get off of your knees. You gently climb on top of him until you both are face to face, kissing one another. Elvis rubs your back. Followed by your ass. Then, he slides his fingers in between your legs to your vaginal lips, gently stroking your clitorus. You indulge in the feeling a moment.

Then Elvis pumps his cock a few times, attempting to penatrate you. You stop him and whisper,

"I wanna play a game."

"What?" Elvis asks confused.

You crawl off of him, standing before him and repeat,

"I. Wanna. Play. A. Game."

Elvis, reluctant to your quips, answers you as he gently strokes the throbbing in his dick.

"What kind of a game, Y/N?"

"Hide and Go Seek. In the house. Naked."

Elvis, wide eye, pops his head up to look at you.

"A... w-what? Hide and seek in the house naked?" He answers.

You nod your head enthusiastically. The smile never leaves your face. You squeeze your legs at the thought of him catching you. It makes you wet.

"Y/N, baby. Garon? What if he needs us?"

"He's with his aunt. He'll be with her for the rest of the night."

"Mary? Nancy?"

"I gave them the night off. They helped me cook your welcome home dinner. They earned it."

"Dodger? Aunt Delta?"

"E, everyone is gone. Graceland is all ours for the evening. Surprise."

Elvis smirks to you with that infamous smirk that makes your heart gallop, your knees quiver, and pussy drips. Elvis sits up on the bed, looking at you like he could eat you alive.

"You have twenty seconds to hide before I stuff my dick so far up your pussy they hear you scream on Beale Street," Elvis says.

"That's only if you can catch me," you laugh, running out the door and down the stairs.

"One!" Elvis shouts, standing from the bed.

"Two! Three!" He continues to shout.

Elvis gets quiet as he starts searching the house for you. He walks downstairs, allowing the soft carpet to massage his bare feet. He quietly looks in the living room, and he even takes the extra steps to see if you're hiding in the music room. He'd love to fuck you on top of the piano.

He walks into the dining area and checks under the table. He makes way into the kitchen, silently searching for you. He rubs the ache in his dick, begging for a release only you can prove.

"Y/N?" He calls out to you. "Oh, Y/N. Where are you?" He asks.

He walks towards the Jungle Room, but there's still no sign of you. It doesn't make him mad. It only makes him want you more. He so enjoys the chase.

"Oh, you are so good at this, Y/N," he says. "I'm going to find you, and I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll be begging me to stop."

You start to giggle but quietly move downstairs. Elvis heard you and ran to the sound of your voice.

"Baby, no cheating now. If you left the house, that's cheating. You want the public to see you. That beautiful, naked body of yours."

*ring* goes the phone.

Elvis looks at the phone confused. Who could be calling you and him right in the middle of your game. Hesitant, Elvis picks up the phone and answers.

"Hello?"

"I didn't leave the house," you say over the phone.

"Y/N, you naughty girl. You deserve a spankin'."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Once I get my hands on you..."

"Talk is cheap, Presley."

"Tell me where you are."

"Where's the fun in that?" You answered him. "You're so close, E."

"Give me a hint."

"Well, there are six phones in the house. One in your study. The kitchen. The bedroom. The living room. And the other two are... E?"

Elvis goes quiet. Dead quiet to the point that it scares you. Then you realize he knows where you are!!! He knows you're downstairs! You drop the phone and try to make a run for it, but he grabs you as you get to the doorway. You yell with excitement.

You back away from him. You made him wait to pleasure you too long. He's sex deprived, hungry, and needy for you. You can see the lust in his eyes. Where the color of his eyes was once a clear blue, you now see a stormy dark gray.

"Now, E..." You say trying to calm him down.

"Silence," Elvis says, backing you up to the sofa.

You run away from him further into the den of the room, but he's right behind you. He grabs you and lays you face down on the sofa. He slaps your ass a few times cause moans to escape from your lips.

"Bad girl," Elvis says, through clinched teeth.

*smack*

"Making me wait to fuck you."

*smack*

"Not allowing me to take what's rightfully mine."

*smack*

"Awe!" Is all you can muster up.

The action makes you wetter. You start to hump the couch as another smack lands across your backside. Elvis has your hands where you can please yourself, so you fuck the sofa.

He forces his hand upon your ass once more, then he raises you ass in the air where you can't grind the sofa.

"Elvis, please," you beg.

"Elvis, please!" He mocks you, placing another smack to your rear end.

Then, without warning, he stuffs himself inside your pussy from behind. You let out such a moan at the penatration and pleasure that fulls you up. Holding your sides, he pounds his rock-hard dick inside with fervor. You delight in the feeling of being one with him.

With your hands free, you waste no time placing your fingers on your clit to work yourself into a frenzy. He pumps into you for a few minutes until he pulls out of you, turning you around to fuck you from the front.

He hungrily kisses your lips and makes his way down your neck. He takes his time going down to your breast, giving them special treatment. You moan at the sensation of his lips on your skin. They're like two plush clouds massaging you.

Elvis bites your left nipple causing you to scream. He looks at you with that devilish grin and licks the ache away. He sits up for a moment, and you take this opportunity to kiss him. You push him on his back, mounting his cock. He helps you line yourself up with his cock, and pulls you down to relieve the ache of pleasure. You both moan at the first stroke of each other.

You begin to ride his penis like you're on saddle back. You start slow at a slow trot and pick up the pace into a full gallop. Your heart has been racing since the beginning of your little game. But it's nothing compared to the way it races with Elvis inside you. You love this man so much.

He pushes himself inside you just right where he hits your g spot, and your moans fill the room. You are so blissed out from ecstasy that you tumble on top of him. He holds you closer than a toddler holds his or her teddy bear.

You both lay there quietly, just enjoying each other's company.

"Baby," Elvis says, "That was the best game of hide and seek I've ever played. I never knew running around Graceland naked could be such fun."

"Oh, I did, E. I knew," you say, wrapping his arm around you.

"So, what's the next game, Y/N?" He asks, kissing your head.

"I'm sure you'll think of something."

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