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cavillscurls · 27 days ago

Text

wherever you stray, i’ll follow

alpha!joel miller x omega f!reader

Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Joel’s POV. Alternate universe: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Implied Soulmates. Alpha!Joel. Omega!Reader. SoftDom!Joel. Sub!Reader. Enemies-ish to lovers. Grumpy x Sunshine. Joel is emotionally constipated. Unspecified age gap. Stereotypical gender roles. Fluff. Angst. Self-flagellation. Poor coping & communication skills. Explicit smut. Dub-con elements due to the nature of heats, but everything is explicitly consented to. Size kink/size difference—Joel is huge in this, like 6’5, thick, broad, and burly. Reader has pubic hair. Pet names. Dirty talk. Scenting/scent marking. Man-handling. Fingering. Squirting. Drinking bodily fluids. Oral (f receiving). Multiple orgasms, somewhat uncontrolled. Unprotected PIV. Tummy buldge. Knotting. Breeding kink. Pregnancy implications. Adult Alpha!Ellie, Beta!Tommy, & Alpha!Maria make an appearance. Ambiguous-ish ending. wc: 10.7k

➻ a/n: this fic has been a long time coming & means so, so much to me. this won’t be for everyone, & that’s ok. i pictures game!joel for majority of this, but he is left to your imagination as always. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and supporting me during the writing process. any feedback is so appreciated enjoy. x

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Tommy Miller had always been the foolish brother, but even Joel found his particular lack of cautiousness that night out of the ordinary.

There were three members. What was left of a pack, likely separated or raided. They had entered the walls of Jackson that fateful evening—the walls Joel and his brother happened to be manning—dirty and famished, overly emotional and outwardly grateful for the sanctuary. The first two, an elderly woman and a teenage boy, betas. He could tell just by the way they walked, the monotonous way they carried themselves, crossing the threshold of their haven with Maria at the helm of the herd.

“The boy’ll be a good addition to routes, whenever he’s old enough,” Tommy had remarked. Ever the optimist, too keen on seeing the good in people to even acknowledge the risk that was posed every time another body came through those gates.

And a risk it was.

Joel Miller had experienced a fair share of fear in his life. Real, unadulterated fear, enough to bring a grown man to his knees despite his efforts to rise above it. A fear contrived by something entirely out of his control, forces working against the walls he’d built around himself, the rough exterior that fought, and bled, and killed, and protected. But the fear he felt that ghastly night remained unlike any other. It was entirely from within, something deeply embedded in himself. Fear, once harnessed as a means of survival, reduced to a shackle, left entirely at its disposal. It rose from his toes into his head where his ears rang and his face burned.

Time stalled. His senses were numb to everything but this walking force of nature that, at first glance, was an indiscernible canvas of shivering limbs. But as it drew closer, the details were impossible to avoid. The shape of lips and sad eyes. The foreboding sound of a beating heart. Oxygen was no longer a necessity of survival, but vanilla and lilac and something so distinctly, uniquely sweet became the vice in his lungs.

And it happened so fast, the way fear turned to panic and panic into anger—angry that he had no control or say over how the thing inside of him responded to the thing emerging before him. Powerless. He watched at a standstill as each body lining the wall stiffened upon your entrance. Even his brother, whose composure hardly faltered, could be heard inhaling a sharp breath of disbelief.

Omega.

She isn’t stopping. Why isn’t she stopping?

Joel’s eyes shot toward Maria, her indomitable gaze remaining forward on the parting doors. He had to fight the sudden urge to jump the gate over how seemingly unfazed she looked. His sister-in-law was a lot of things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. How could she be so foolish?

A question left unspoken, unanswered, because his body was not his own. The sound of pounding rattled in his chest, blaring in his ears. A flame ignited. A switch flipped. The world as he knew it became mute to the battling voice that rang inside his head.

Why isn’t she stopping? What is she doing here? It’s not real. There’s no more. There’s not supposed to be any more. It’s cold. It’s too cold, she’s not wearing a proper jacket. Where’s her jacket? She can’t be here. She’s not allowed to be here. How could she survive this long? Alone? She’s alone. No Alpha. Alone—

He vaguely recalled the sound of his brother shouting his name; a growl settled low in his chest and the heels of his hands pressed against his temples as he tore himself away from the perimeter and stormed through town.

He needed to get away. Put as much distance between him and that thing that poked and prodded at what was to remain untouched. That stirred him, that set him quick to anger as those of his kind were notorious for. What he worked hard to not be.

He wasn’t sure how long he paced. How many glasses of whiskey he downed, or the number of curses he threw at his walls, but later that evening, when he had subdued himself to some sort of composure, Joel sought after his brother and his wife, making it a point to address the issue head-on. He burst through their door without knocking:

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”

“Joel—!” snapped the younger Miller, bouncing to his feet from the couch where he sat beside Maria, already engaged in conversation over what Joel could assume was the reckless decision at hand.

“It’s fine, Tommy,” Maria interjected, extending a cautionary hand toward her husband. Her focused eyes took a once over of the fuming man in front of her. “Joel, I’m not turning away perfectly capable people. They pose no threat to us; we’ll find each of them a place here.”

People. Them. Joel knew his sister-in-law wasn’t so naive as to think he was distressed over a couple of betas. The patronizing calm of her voice stirred him on, and he flashed his teeth at her when he spoke, low and gritty. A fight for dominance.

“She’s an omega. Unmated.”

“And we’ll be sure to make accommodations for that.” Maria nodded slowly, carefully. She was all too familiar with the taming of beasts.

Joel shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “There are twelve goddamn unmated alphas in these walls, Maria.”

“Yeah, you included,” she clipped, and that shut him up good. “And with the way things are progressing, soon enough, Ellie.”

That made him nauseous.

Ever since her eighteenth birthday, she had been showing all the tell-tale signs of an emerging alpha. Joel knew—despite his unpreparedness and objections to the thing called nature—there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only other option was to prepare. And up until that point, Joel had thought his adopted daughter's presentation was the worst of his worries.

He wasn’t prepared to reevaluate his own self-control.

He hadn’t dealt with a rut since Boston; it was only the start of FEDRA’s reign, before the suppressants had been sufficiently pumped into the population, and fiery instinct was reduced to a dull nuisance. And while his access to the aid was now nonexistent, he still hadn’t considered it possible anymore before you showed up. Upon his and Ellie's arrival, the measly two other omegas in his vicinity had already inhabited Jackson. Both mated.

Joel assumed the next time he encountered the type, it would be when one in the community presented. And by that point, he hoped he’d be far too old for the monster inside his head to have any more biological control.

The solution had been to set you up in the cottage furthest from the center of town. It was a decent little space that had been used for storage until late, having cleared the fireplace last fall for ample central heating and restoring some of the rotten infrastructure. As deliriously naive as he saw it, the belief appeared to be that the distance of your dwelling from the rest of Jackson would prevent any complications if they arose. When they did. Joel couldn’t decipher what genius course of action his sister-in-law had for when the time came, but his protests were silenced by the majority. And by morning, you had claimed your corner of sanctuary.

That was six months ago.

And while the winds of winter kept the newcomers isolated with adjustment, the summer's heat brings livelihood—and much more of you.

Your voice, your laughter, your scent. It permeates Jackson’s walls like a disease, saturating Joel’s life despite his efforts to avoid your very existence.

You contribute your share at the daycare, of all places, often seen with a young pup clinging to your neck. Sometimes, the little ones chase after you in the center of town—running towards you with excited, grubby hands and beaming smiles. You always grace them with an embrace. It’s in your nature, the ability to comfort, to nurture.

You’re gentle. Kind. Considerate. A smile brighter than a thousand stars. Perfection didn’t appear to have a name until the universe made you, and there is no denying the intrinsic effect you have on those around you.

Because the rest of the town fucking adores you.

There is no escaping you. As hard as he tries, you linger at every turn, in every breath of the wind that creeps down his back and stands the hair up on his skin. Most are in awe, admiring the creature that glides before them, whose presence adds to balance the very nature they all endure. A missing piece of a puzzle, something delightful and pure.

Rare.

Not diamonds, or rubies, or gold can compare. But in tandem comes those who feed on things that shine, and he knows that some—a very specific some—leer with less adoration and increased selfishness. Some who believe they are owed for the mark you bear, whose pride and lust drive their ambition, whose power is unmatched in the face of something so helpless.

He’s aware, by the principle of semantics, that he falls into this greedy some. Though he could not identify further from it. And while the monster may heave and thrash within the dwindling confines of his chest, lured to all that is so rare, Joel had decided the moment you walked through those gates he would have none of it. He would not reduce himself to the thing he worked tirelessly to tame, nor would he entertain the force of nature that drove someone like you to something like him.

You’re aware of his distaste for you. That much is obvious in how you blatantly evade him in town, skirting around when you are forced to share the vicinity, a terrified thing, so easily spooked.

Once, a few months prior, he had been asked to repair some of the leaky ceiling panels in the schoolhouse. Unbeknownst to him—and you, he assumed, judging by the way your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull at the sight of him and how the honeyed stench of the room turned sour—they were all located in the daycare room.

What followed could only be described as two hours of slow, burning torture. He tried his very best to stay on task, he really did. But he was hindered by the discernible discomfort you exhibited and all it did to the thing inside of him. You tripped over your words to the fellow attendants in the room, couldn’t seem to locate anything you were looking for, and at one point, had to excuse yourself for what turned into a twenty-minute-long disappearance. And where he stood, high up on the ladder, trying to balance his body and his mind, Joel hated how worried your absence made him. He couldn’t see you, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t smell you for those agonizing twenty minutes, and that anger he felt the first day he laid eyes on you returned. Because he was not a man that gave up control.

And you, for whatever reason, wielded a great deal of it over him.

The first day of summer promises a bonfire. Dusk, in the open plain beyond the stables, the laughter of children and the strum of music are bringing the community to life. These are cherished moments amongst the whole of Jackson, and Joel isn’t the kind of man to be so self-absorbed that he can’t understand why. He had, up until six months ago, once enjoyed the camaraderie. It was the first time in decades he felt a semblance of impulse to let go. No more running, fighting, grieving.

He can hardly remember that feeling now. In its place returns caution, unpredictability. Six months and the work of years lost. He feels insane—the lurking monster that haunts his own shadow. And as hard as he tries to shake it, he fails every time. The feeling is embedded, brought to life by its complimentary fragment that, much to his dismay, walks the very same walls. Lurks in the same shadows.

He used to feel stable, steady. Not any longer.

Your hair is tied half up today, out of your eyes—he’s watching you. Not watching, observing. This is the trade-off, the compromise to keep the beast satiated. Always from afar, and never with the intent of action, he observes you and all you are. It’s a part of his routine, studying the way you move, the way you exist in this space you’re both forced to inhabit. Constantly drawn to one another, even in distance, even without trying. Magnetic.

Frustrating.

You’re smiling at something. And then laughter, like the sweetest song rattles his eardrums. You sit on a blanket across the mountainous flames, your legs tucked under you, beside two other girls he couldn’t care to remember the names of. Briefly, he wonders what it is that you find so amusing.

A misfortune at the hand of another?

No, he cannot imagine you to be so cruel.

An anecdote from the daycare?

Seems far more likely. The type to find joy in what you do, in all that is around you.

He’s envious of this, maybe. The effortless way of being attracted to what is deemed good. He tries to remember a time when he knew another person like that; all that ever follows are brief memories full of sorrow. The hazy outline of something, someone, so perfect in a way no one should be. He always dismisses the thought. He would never know what it means to be that way, after all.

“Nice night.”

He damn near jumps out of his boots. Tommy’s sudden materialization beside him diminishes any spirals of imagination, a blessing in disguise.

Still, Joel is bothered by the disturbance. His little haven of borderline-stalker tendencies crushed under his brother's obnoxious foot. He merely grunts in response.

“Glad we finally got this event together,” Tommy continues nonetheless, a hand on his hip, sipping his beer bottle and glancing similarly across the flames. Joel’s eyes have already left you, his arms folding taut across his chest while he casts his gaze anywhere else, if only for the sake of avoiding his brother's inevitable chastising. “Good to get the kids out… good to get everyone out, really. Nice chance to mingle.”

Subtle. Real subtle.

“Out with it, Tommy.” He doesn’t feel like playing this game tonight. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the sake of appeasing his brother, or rather, his brother's wife. “Whatever it is you wanna say to me… out with it.”

Tommy shrugs. “Nothin’ to come out with, Joel. Just that y’all have been here two years already and still seems like you have a tough time with these things.”

He doesn’t miss the chosen emphasis. And it’s true, to an extent. While precarious in her initial adjustment, Ellie has been far more social than he. He talks to people. He just doesn’t trust them. Not those outside his immediate circle. And why should he? Joel does his work. He lends a hand to the community where he can. He’s polite. Punctual. Reliable. But he’s still living in the end of the fucking world, a world he has seen more brutality and injustice in than he ever would have cared to. So what if he doesn’t want to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs?

“What is it that you want from me, Tommy? I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Don’t want nothin’ from you, brother,” Tommy says with a shake of his head, and Joel still can’t pinpoint just when his little brother finally grew the fuck up. Twenty years of lost time will do that to a person. “Just wanna be sure you’re livin’ this second chance to the fullest.”

A second chance.

He can pinpoint a time where he would have killed for one of those.

And perhaps he did just that, and the real fault lies in being unable to embrace the outcome. Or maybe, the misery he lives in is the price he pays for the choices that led him here. Second chance shrouded in self-loathing.

His brother persists: “Take advantage of how lucky ya are to be here, how lucky we all are to be here, to have…options.”

Has he ever been good at weighing those? Twenty years ago, he would have had a different answer. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have known the debilitating options of life or death. This isn’t the first time Tommy has presented the topic of conversation, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He wonders when he’ll find a response that appeases him, if ever.

“Just try to enjoy yourself a little tonight, alright?”

He doesn’t answer. He lacks the discipline to say something of substance. Instead, he turns his head forward and strains his arms against his chest, silent and brooding, until his brother sighs, pats him on the shoulder, and slips away.

This is enjoyable enough; left to his own devices, keen to observe the joy around him, a silent hope that some of it may permeate, keep an eye on—

He’d been too preoccupied with Tommy’s noise to notice you’d disappeared from his line of sight. His brows furrow and he scans the perimeter of the bonfire. Your friends have moved to the beverage stand, but the spot you had occupied beside them is vacant.

He cocks his head left, then right, scanning for signs; the cadence of your voice, the shape of you, your scent. And he’s frustrated. Because how could he let you vanish so fast? Where? Why?

It’s something instinctive that compels him to act at the first sign of trouble. It’s the faintest thing, a subtle waft in the wind he’s certain no one would catch unless they were searching for it. Sour and burnt, his nose wrinkles.

He does a one-eighty and panic seizes his chest.

Your silhouette may be foreign to the common eye, but he’s learned it well. It tramples and scrambles through the foliage, distressed; a good two, three hundred yards away from the crowd and headed in the direction of your dwelling.

He’s honed in. A nerve fires inside his chest. His heart ticks to a beat that suffocates his eardrums, and there’s a churning in his gut that threatens to yank him forward.

He turns back toward the flames, only once, before his footsteps fall in stride with you.

He wonders just how long he’s been blind. How many days had passed since the tell-tale signs began to emerge. When you knew, if you knew, or if this very moment, here and now, is the one mother nature decided to take you by the hand and guide you down the imminent path.

Joel always watches you. Observes. How could he have let this slip under his radar?

He’s imagined this exact scenario numerous times before. Though in his head, havoc rained, blood was shed, and carnage laid bare across the whole of town. A wreckage for all to witness, to acknowledge the barbarous creatures that walk amongst them. Twelve starved, selfish alphas seeking a single, undeserved prize.

In theory, his expectations aren’t all that far-fetched. In a time before, they may have been a reality. When there was no order. When creatures with perceived power could take and take, and others would be remiss to challenge them.

But here, in the haven he occupies, those expectations are mere theatrics.

Here, the air is frighteningly quiet, save for the joyous voices in the distance, the whistle of the breeze. He’s aware of the sound of his boots crunching against the ground, how the weight of them seems to melt into the earth with each daunting step. They follow after lighter, fluttering tip-toes; a scared, scampering thing on the run from all that could harm her. Alone.

Vulnerable.

The closer he follows, the clearer your labored huffs reach his ears. The aroma in the air loses its earthy notes and adopts the sweetness you shed. A trail of seeds yet to sprout, bathed in moonlight, beckoning him closer. A single lantern is left lit on the cottage steps, a beacon. You clamber up them two at a time, and in tandem, his careless foot snaps a twig beneath his boot.

Your head whips around, sharp eyes pinning daggers to his chest.

“I ain’t here to hurt you.”

He puts his hands up in careful defense, leaving the vast space of the porch steps between you. Your chest is heaving and your temples are already damp. Your eyes have glossed over, a crazed look, and he knows the fever has taken the reins.

But there is no urge to pounce. No incessant need to satisfy a selfish craving. It’s there, it lives, but it does not drive him the way he always suspected it would. It’s evicted from the home of fears that feed on his consciousness, and in its place, emerges something just as innate. As plain and clear as all other parts of him he once tried to diminish.

“What do you need?” he asks softly, carefully. Unprotected prey are easily spooked.

Your eyes dart every which way, searching for the complimentary predators. They glisten with tears under the porch lights, sweat reflecting off your forehead the more you lose yourself, and he knows that you’re afraid. He can feel it.

“Omega,” Joel commands, and your wide eyes snap right back to him. Drawn to him and all that he is. If his instincts weren’t so hellbent on curbing your fears, he would’ve scolded himself for abusing such a power. “What do you need?” he repeats, a bit more pointedly.

He watches the way your throat constricts when you swallow, brows twitching together in study of him. Searching for some ulterior motive, no doubt, but the trepidation is brief. Your nostrils flare in deep inhalation, and he wonders what remedy he must exude to ease you so effortlessly.

You trust him.

A terrifyingly naive mistake.

And yet, there is no denying the way his chest swells with pride and how the monster inside of him roars to life.

“Keep the rest of them away,” you say finally, and it’s all he needs to hear. The rest is second nature.

He nods dutifully, lingering at the bottom of the steps. He waits until you blink the haze out of your darkening eyes, giving him a final once over, and scramble the door open and shut, before he climbs to the top of the steps. He turns his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest like they had been while he watched you through the fire, his eyes forward—focused. An unmatched mode of protection activates. He hears the deadbolt lock, and he’s grateful for your diligence. Though he knows it’s useless. Every alpha in a ten-mile radius would smell you within minutes.

And that smell.

It’s only now that he notices its potency. It grows and swells the longer you’re hidden inside; waves of vanilla and citrus that are almost too sweet. They burn his nose. Coat the back of his throat in thick tar, making it impossible for him to swallow without a taste of you.

The beast grows, a second skin now. It occupies him further as each moment passes by. His fingers twitch, his own brow dampens, and an unrelenting ache settles low in his stomach.

He gruffs out a breath, shaking his head rapidly. He needs to keep it together. He needs to move.

He’s stalking the perimeter in a craze, eyes and ears on high alert. He leaves his mark behind wherever he can, brushing up against trees, allowing the dense pheromones that seep out of his skin to pollute the air. It isn’t foolproof, but it’s enough to dampen the sweet nectar radiating off your walls, at least for a time.

He starts to panic when he finally hears the first little moan slip through the walls. A soft, restless thing, and the ache in his gut flourishes, threatening to send him to his knees. He seeks purchase on the rail of the porch, having made his way back to the door. He squeezes his eyes shut. This cannot be happening.

Clarity becomes overshadowed by instinct, and the ache expands into his chest, his fingertips, his toes. It’s been years, and the onset is no less overwhelming. He’ll do what he can to prolong it, ensure that he is of his right mind when the height of the fever takes you. He can’t imagine what he’ll do, otherwise.

But his patience is tested. The soft scratch beyond the front door makes sure of it.

His ears perk up and his nostrils flare. He can make out a faint creak, weight shifting. Palms to the panes, a body pressing against the wood. Warmth seeps through the cracks.

“Joel?”

There you are.

His body carries him up the steps–he doesn’t have to think about moving. His muscles and joints, his very soul seem to be linked to your command. He stands with his toes pressed to the bottom of the door, and it’s getting harder to breathe. Harder to discern what’s right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m here.”

Your breath wavers, a sigh of relief. He zeros in on what he can make of you through the barrier, the last shred of sanity.

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, and his eyes shoot open, brows laced in confusion.

“You have nothin’ to be apologizing for–”

“No, I do,” you press, and the words come with great difficulty. Heavy and strained, as if it is critical you say them now.

Perhaps it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re not entirely yourself. Before he won't be able to get a coherent answer out of you, when every action you take relies solely on relief.

He’ll take the opportunity to listen to what you have to say while you still can. You seem to realize it too as your words start to pour out, staggered and rushed:

“I know I’ve done something… something to upset you for all this time, and—and I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry, and I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, Joel. I promise. Just please—”

“Stop that.”

He can't even begin to believe what he’s hearing. Can’t possibly fathom the damage he’s caused, all he’s insinuated with his behavior, his choices.

Him. He is to blame.

Yet, you’re the one near tears. You’re the one who begs for forgiveness, where no plea nor apologies need be. You’ve convinced yourself, or rather, he’s indoctrinated you into believing you are the one to blame.

That you are the monster.

And oh, does it make his blood boil with well-acquainted self-loathing.

“You don’t—you haven’t—”

Now he’s the one sputtering. Where does one find the words to right infinite wrongs?

You’ve reached an impasse, and this is surely the desperation speaking. He’ll have to be the level headed one, steer you in the right direction. A chance to redeem himself, as great a feat it’s proving to be. He musters up the courage, sets his pride aside.

“You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, you hear me?” His lips are near pressed against the wood, seething through them, desperate for you to latch on to each painful word. “You needa know that, all right? You… you ain’t the one to blame here.”

The admission is ash on his tongue. Speaking it aloud, bringing it to life. His ears strain for any sign of you, fallen silent. Something inside possesses the urge to break clean through the wood.

“Help me.”

Forgiveness. Guilt welded to his chest now shattered and set free by the capabilities of kindness. You hardly know one another, and yet, there is mutual understanding. An agreement that surpasses time, bonded to what you’re made of.

“Alpha,” you call, and Joel has to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling. His chest beams, his belly stirs, and the sting of desire plagues him. “Please.”

He had read about the process once, long before. Disorientation. Excruciating aches that make it nearly impossible to stand upright. A tingling sensation so intense, that it replicates that of burning on the skin.

Pain.

You’re in pain, and he knows he can stop it.

And soon enough knowing turns to needing, and he can feel a fraction of the pain you’re enduring. It’s enough to shatter his resolve.

A heavy hand rests on the doorknob. A beat. And then, as if on cue, he hears the deafening sound of the deadbolt unlatching.

He hesitates, opportunity served on a golden platter. Sifts through the repercussions of what could follow. But when the door opens and shuts again, he’s on the other side of it. The lock latches, this time, under his own hand.

You’ve shuffled your way back from the door. Standing, though by the looks of it, with great difficulty. You’re no longer in your pretty summer dress, but a t-shirt large enough to swallow you and little shorts so short he can smell right through them.

Even from a distance, his height climbs above you in the way only predators leverage prey. But he knows you’re unafraid. He can sense your fascination with him just by observing you; it’s as plain as the air he breathes, something intrinsic and right as hard as he’s worked to deem it wrong. It’s in the way that you stiffen, your body having no other choice than to respond to him. Wide eyes appraise every inch of him, and you trouble your bottom lip with your teeth in a spot he would very well like to taste.

The aroma is suffocating; it seeps into his pores and wraps its eager hands around his throat. He won’t be able to rid himself of you for days, even if he tries.

He’s grown pompous, it seems. For the thought of those he passes enduring a whiff of you on his skin stirs his cock in his jeans. The idea that awakens him, the prospect of becoming his.

“I’m scared,” you hiccup, and he suddenly remembers he has greater things to tend to.

He has a million questions, torn between action and rationale.

When was the last time this happened? Do you have enough supplies prepared? How long is it expected to last?

But none of that matters right now. She matters. And she needs you.

“I know, baby.” He’s terrified, and the words spill out. “But you’re gonna get through it, ya hear me?” He takes another step closer. “We’re gonna get through it.”

And there is a glimmer in your eyes, that of hope, and he knows that he is powerless in this battle he’s fought against himself for so long. He’s only prolonging the inevitable.

“You’ll help me?” It's all pleas and hope and teetering near the symphony of begging, but he can’t hear you beg. He can’t bear the sound nor the implication, as he’s certain it will ruin him. But: “Please,” you whimper, plucking his kryptonite out of thin air and wielding it against him. And it’s only then that he notices the way your thighs tremble together, desperately searching for some sort of friction. “It hurts.”

And he loses, loses the fight. He is lost to you. He always has been.

“Turn around,” he beckons, and you obey him because you’re good. You’ll be so good for him.

Because you know exactly what she needs.

The floorboards creek beneath his feet, and when he reaches you, fingers drag the bulk of your hair over one shoulder. He watches the muscles flex below his touch, the way your hands ball into tight fists at your sides. He’s hit with the overwhelming scent of your exposed gland, and his mouth waters.

Focus, the thing inside him chastises. You’ll have plenty of time to taste.

He takes a final step, flushing the front of his chest with your backside. Greedy hands latch on to your waist, followed by the slump of your body into him. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your lips part in a sigh—a pretty little sound, though he’s determined to alleviate the burden it stems from.

He reaches for one of your fists, taking you by the wrist. Your fingers unfurl upon his touch, and he uses it as an opportunity to fold his own overtop your knuckles. He guides your joint hands, settling them low over your belly.

“Show me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to the crook of your neck. His lips dance over the skin, and your legs begin to tremble. He keeps the hand at your hip firm, an anchor. “Show me where it hurts.”

Your breath catches and your eyelids flutter, half-open. Your fingers squeeze around his, and without hesitation, he squeezes back. He’s here. He’s got you. He won't let you go.

And with that reassurance, hands descend, following your lead. You claw away the t-shirt hem, idling above the waistband of your shorts before sinking underneath. A low growl rumbles in his chest at his findings, muffled into your hair. You comb his fingers through soft curls, the flesh below hot and throbbing. Together, you cup the little seam of your cunt, and Joel has to fight the urge to fall to his knees, pry you open here and now.

You’re dripping. Warm slick pools in his hand, sticky against your thighs. He feels a pulse of it spill out of you when his fingertips prod at your hole, your back arching off his chest, another devastating gasp of air choking you.

He’s already dizzy, high on the fumes of you. He shuts his eyes when his vision begins to blur. And he’s hard. So achingly stiff against your back, if he thinks about it for too long, he's sure to lose control. You’ll send him into a full blown rut, he’s certain of it. Likely, you already have, teetering at the edge. And as these minutes tick, the less time he has to prepare you. To warm you up and slather you in pleasure before brute nature runs its course.

“Joel,” you whine. His eyes flash back open, pupils doubled in size.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He releases you, but only after giving a handful of your ass a terse squeeze. You squeal, nearly leaping out of his touch. You flash him your eyes only once before tiptoeing forward, and he’s hot on your heels, stalking after you. Patience drowned deep, mangled by desire.

Your room is to be expected, cozy and warm, entirely you. Under any other circumstance, he’d have more appreciation for the homemade candles and delicate tapestries, the various posters displaying your interests and the native plants you’ve taken the care to pot and house.

But he’s immediately drawn to your mattress, the piles of pillows and blankets strewn about in a fashion only you are to understand. You’ve been busy since you left him on the porch.

You stop a few feet shy of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at him, uncertain. There’s a shift in your aura, suddenly grown timid. There’s a guilty sort of gleam in your eyes, but he recognizes it for what it really is—shame. That you cannot control your erratic breathing, or the heat that creeps over your brow. That your body faces the impulse of preparation for something beyond your control, and now, you’re forced to lay it bare for him to witness.

He holds no judgment, only empathy. There is beauty in this vulnerability, and for the first time, he understands the gravity of your trust in him. Something in the shape of fulfillment blooms.

“Here?” he asks, nudging his chin toward the heap.

You nod once, and he shrugs the flannel off his shoulders. An offering, and you accept it wordlessly, eagerly. You eye it in your hands, then him, back again, hesitant. You’re shy now that he’s indulged you.

That’s alright. She just needs you to take your time with her.

Finally, you slowly bring the wad of it up to your nose and inhale. Your eyes droop shut, lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks, and his chest beams with pride at the notable fall of your shoulders. Tension evades you, replaced with the comfort of his scent. His.

“Go on,” he instructs gently, once he has your eyes again. He wishes he could peer inside your head, decipher the wary thoughts that live so plainly on your face.

Nonetheless, you shuffle your way to the mattress, carefully crawling on top of it. It’s painfully adorable, the way you gnaw at your bottom lip and analyze the space, his flannel still clutched in your fist.

He also recalls reading about this, how it’s imperative that your space be designed to your exact liking. The assistance of a trusted alpha’s scent is a surefire way to heighten comfort.

So when you drape his flannel over the pillow you lay your head upon at night, and tuck it in tight around the edges, he’s overcome with a mighty wave of emotion. He is strengthened, his affliction no longer a weakness, but a gift. A means of sustaining your well-being. He almost feels unworthy. Almost. But when you sit up on your knees at the edge and give him those expectant eyes, he imagines what it would be like to rid the town of the eleven other hungry beasts who could have ended up outside your door. So that they may never get a breath of you.

That they may never touch what’s his.

He approaches with caution—slowly, toeing off his boots in the process, fighting every urge to pounce. Droplets begin to roll down your temples, and he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this; wild eyes, a little frenzied. Awaiting some treat like a starved puppy who's already forgotten how to chew, how to swallow. He will remedy this. He’ll feed you, satiate you.

You’re an antsy little thing now, nearly bouncing up and down, toes curling and uncurling beneath you. And as soon as his shins meet the bed frame, you’re rising on your knees, nearly his height now. You study one another and the heat between you, the uneven breath and the palpable compulsion to touch. His brows rise on his forehead, surprise, when you reach out first. Shaky, dainty hands coming to rest upon his shoulders that glow under your willing gesture.

He can’t help himself; his hands splay over your ribcage, curving around your lungs, and yanking your chest against his. You yelp out, but the tiny grin that follows on your lips and the way you wind your arms around his neck flash a million green lights. He can hardly keep up, and he realizes now he’s the one panting; his fingers bruise into your skin, and his tongue seems to swell three sizes with need, starvation.

And he hesitates, because if he proceeds, he’ll finally know the sensation of kissing you. He’ll have a taste of you. He’ll understand what it means to have your body pressed against his, and how the scent of him will change, saturated by pieces of you.

But it’s you and your willingness to be so kind, so undeniably what you are, that breaks him from the mold he’s cast. You scratch him gently just below his ear to get his attention, and his worried eyes find yours—a pure contradiction, only certainty and peace to be found.

It’s alright. She’s ready for you.

This voice is different, warped. A mixture of two. He’s not sure if he hears it from him, or you.

He doesn’t care.

His lean into the kiss is measured, but it’s not long before it descends into madness. You’re wound and fiery against him, clawing at the nape of his neck, baring tongue and teeth. He’s willing, eager to keep up, bending you at the small of the back and crowding over you. Licking you open and shoving his tongue between your lips, until the sharp sounds of saliva echo through the room and his palate is coated in sweetness.

He loses himself a bit, winding a hand up your back until it’s latching around tendrils of hair and pulling taut. You gasp, arching into him, and he growls at the opportunity of more of you, to taste all of you.

His lips clamber down your throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. You’re mumbling something, indescribable under the mask of your flourishing heat, but the pliancy of your body is all he needs to make way for instinct.

When he reaches the base, the tip of his nose traces your clavicle, sniffing like a mad dog. He continues up the curve of your neck until he finds the rough little patch behind your ear. Here, he inhales deep, audibly; your scent is most potent here and it clouds his judgment. His tongue juts out from his lips, salivating, searing across the gland and sealing his invasion with a gentle kiss, and oh, you like that. He hears the strangled sound that rips through your throat, feels your sharp nails dig deeper into his skin and the weight of your body shuddering against him.

He yanks at the hem of your t-shirt. “Arms up.”

You heed his command, and he pulls the fabric over you, tossing it into oblivion.

He’s got you on your back, sprawled amongst the nest of your things and his, in no time. He sinks to his knees, huffing at the stiffness of them. He bullies himself between your shaking thighs and drags his paws across your torso. He cups both of your tits in an unforgiving grasp, heaving himself forward and suctioning his lips around one. You howl and pant, pain and pleasure, weaving fingers through his locks of hair and tugging just as hard as he sucks. He switches to the other, leaving welts behind, memories of his ardor.

He wants them to linger. Knowing that he can’t mark you—won’t, not while you’re like this—in the way he longs to. A greedy act of ownership he hopes will ward off the others until he can map out this newfound territory.

Your thighs suffocate his hips, radiating warmth. He feels the little gyrations of your hips, seeking friction, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you any longer. He licks a trail down your sternum, the tangy taste of fever, peppering kisses over your belly. His fingers curl over the waistband of your shorts, taking two fistfuls, and he rips them in two. Joel doesn’t think you’ve even noticed the destruction, already pawing needy hands across his shoulders to guide him where you need him most.

Your legs part instantly, willingly, and his mouth drops open at the sight. He’s suddenly reminded of his own struggle, his cock seeming to swell another size in his jeans at the sight of your bare, swollen cunt. Creamy liquid coats your wet skin, pearly clit swollen and wanting. He rests a cheek upon your inner thigh, latches his hands around the outer to keep you steady, and admires. Lets his eyes fall shut and leans in, burying his nose in the soft curls on your mound. He inhales long and groans; the earthy musk, the inviting sweetness.

“God, look at this pretty fuckin’ hole.” He starts blathering aloud, but you smolder under his praise. Bucking your hips and grabbing at all the bits of him you can find. “This all for me, Omega?”

Yes, yes, yes, you pant, speaking with your body and your mouth, nodding so frantically. He enjoys the way your cunt flutters around nothing, each little pulse oozing another drop of sweet slick, coaxing him in.

He wets his lips, takes another whiff of you. He’s certain he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t taste you, so he does. Flattens his tongue against your impatient pussy, and watches as you all but combust when he suckles up the nectar seeping out, all for him.

It’s more heavenly, more euphoric than he could’ve imagined. The stain of you against his tongue, ambrosia, a remedy for all ailments. He laps into you, dehydrated and desperate for every drop, smearing his tongue all over your cunt, your mound, your thighs. A feast for the taking.

You wail above him when his lips latch onto your clit, and heavy hands force your thighs back against the mattress—he needs you spread, and still. Needs you to understand the severity of this famine he’s experienced for so long; maybe, as long as he’s existed. You yank at his hair and your heels dig into his back, pushing and pulling all at once, and when he finally comes up for air, he’s feeding you his fingers. Catches your eyes and the way they grow when he sinks two, thick digits inside of you, groaning at the squeeze of your plush walls, ripe and ready for him.

“Gonna open you up for me, darlin’,” he rasps, lips and cheeks and chin gleaming with you. You hastily prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a view of the way he learns you. Moonlight glows across sheen skin, angelic.

“B-but Joel—” you whine, but he silences you with a thrust of his fingers, curving them up, up, up, and beaming when your legs jerk and your eyes roll back. He taps his fingertips against the spongy little spot he’s discovered.

“Hush, now,” he bites, but his taunting fingers promise a better outcome than his tone. Your head has already fallen back into the pillows, hands mindlessly grabbing and twisting the sheets around you. “M’gonna open you up, get you nice and ready to take me.” He starts his steady pace then, gradually pulling his fingers back and rocking them forward, maintaining the hook, searching for the sweet little spot that makes you cry out every time he bumps it. “You’re gonna be patient, let me make it all better, yeah?”

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes.”

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy this descent into submission. How the further you slip away from him, the further he is from himself. Two parts of a whole lost to what nature made them, somehow, finding one another to latch onto.

He leans into it. Embraces it. He needs to make this last. Take advantage of all that it is, fearing it may be the first and only time he’ll be lucky enough to have it.

A heavy hand, his free one, presses against your lower belly. He can feel the drag of his fingers inside of you, just below his palm, sending his blood to a boil. Sweat graces his own brow; these are shared symptoms, that of your fever and his rut. Cosmic, burning from the inside out, like stars. Everything he is, created for you.

He can feel the wave, the buildup of pressure in your gut that makes his own ache. Feels the wet tip of his cock in his jeans when you start to pant his name, when a flimsy hand reaches for the flannel you tucked away so neatly, and yanks it toward your face. Smothering yourself with it, shoving your nose to his scent.

“Alpha—nghh!”

“C’mon, baby. C’mon,” he chants; a mantra. Presses harder onto your burning belly, extends his thumb to circle over your throbbing clit in time with his flexing wrist.

Your body seizes, soft, full breasts rising and falling as you desperately gulp the air. Your poor legs tremble so hard, you can’t keep them upright anymore without his help, so they drape over his shoulders. Squeeze them tight, claws nearly drawing blood against his scalp, and your pussy sucks him into the knuckle. Grips on like a vice before the wave crashes, and you’re gushing around his fingers. Crying out ecstasy, soaking his chin, his chest, your limp legs.

“Fuuuck,” he’s growling, in awe of the little spurts of cum that keep flowing out of you with each measured jingle of his digits. He wants to see how much he can drain you before he removes them, how much pretty, perfect, omega slick you’ll make for him, every drop an homage to your yearning for what he’s preparing to give you. The thing that swells, and aches, and burns at the base of his cock, and he can’t help but rub it up against the side of the mattress, desperately seeking some of his own relief.

You’ve lost yourself entirely now, he knows this. The orgasm he’s granted you sets your full heat into motion, and you’ll require more. Can sense it in the haze of your eyes, the delirious babbling of his name mingled with Alpha, Alpha, please. Tears coating your cheeks, an emptiness in the pit of you only he can fill.

But one taste isn’t enough, and he’s greedy. Greedy, greedy alpha of a man, who needs more. Can’t help it as he watches the liquid pour from around his fingers, so he unsheathes them, quickly replacing them with his open mouth again to drink the goodness right out of you. A fountain of excellence he’s certain he’ll never tire of.

He must be lost in this, the incessant need to quench his thirst, for some time. Because you start to whine and thrash below him, strings of pleas and sorrow alike. Pulling at his t-shirt, trying to tear it from him at this awkward angle. Telling him over and over that it hurts, Alpha, it hurts—and that just won’t do.

He quickly replaces your wandering fingers, tugging his shirt up and off of him and retreating to his feet to battle with his belt buckle. You jolt up at this, suddenly alert, perching at the edge of the mattress, wet hair sticking to your face, eyes taking a curious path down bare skin.

There’s a momentary wave of self-consciousness; he can’t remember the last time a woman saw him naked, let alone after the safety and comfort that Jackson provided.

He’s aged. Gained a few pounds in his belly, muscles bulky and lined with fat instead of the lean mass they once were. But then, you place your palms on his chest. Flutter your eyes up at him as you glide your hands slowly over his torso, and make sure he’s watching when you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his sternum. His eyes go dark, his insecurity silenced.

“Wanna taste it, Alpha,” you demand, voice breaking at the edges. Sounding simultaneously foreign and never more like yourself. Shaky fingers reach down, cupping him through his boxers, making his dick jump, and he sucks the air through his teeth. “Can I taste it, please?”

He grins down at you, because yeah, you’re good. So good. So polite. Just like he knew you would be. Good, kind, generous little omega, too much so for her own good. You rake at his bare chest, start to palm him slowly, batting dangerous eyes up at him. So tempting. He reaches down, takes your chin between his fingers, and pets your bottom lip with his thumb. Hoping to soothe away disappointment. Because as much as he wants to be selfish, he needs to be inside of you.

“No time for that now, sweet baby. Not this time. Wanna give it to you somewhere else.” He drops his hand, splaying his fingers low over your abdomen. “Right in here, huh? Isn’t that what you want?”

Oh, yes. Yes, it is. You nod up at him, frantic, mouth hung open and drool spilling out the sides. Ravenous thing you are, just as hungry as he.

“C’mere. Let me help you.”

He’s got you by the hips, lowering you properly back against the pillows. He shuffles out of his boxers, and you watch him, dazed; your fingers in your mouth, chewing on them. Knees up to your chest, thighs rubbing back and forth, slipping so easily with all the pretty slick he’s pulled out of you.

Vulnerable little creature you are, you welcome him into your nest. Pull your fingers out from your teeth and extend them towards him, and spread your legs for him to settle his mass between. And when he does, there’s a shared sounding of pleasure. He sits back on his heels, guiding the weight of his heavy cock over your cunt, and fuck, if you aren’t just perfect like this.

Your body burns, a fire he must extinguish. He leans forward, exasperating you a bit when he drapes his weight over you, caging you in with elbows on either side of your head. His knees still cradle your ass, and he uses the mounted leverage to grind his cock against you. He huffs, his knot blazing, painful and stiff, and his gut is on fire. You’re so warm, so wet, and he slips so easily between you. He can’t help but growl out when you begin to meet his thirst with needy rocks of your own.

Your eyes droop shut, hands seeking purchase on his shoulders, and he uses his to cradle each side of your scalp. He presses his forehead to yours, captures your parted lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he mumbles, drawing back from you, reaching for his stiff cock and gripping it tight. His eyes drop to where you’re nearly connected, so close. You glisten along his shaft, and he uses it to rub the angry tip of him back and forth over your folds, parted petals that threaten to suck him in each time he catches on the opening. He taps it on your tender clit; you quiver and clench, wailing out frustration.

“N-no please—please,” you beg, eyes brimming with tears again. You slide your hands underneath his arms, digging your nails under his shoulder blades. “Please put it inside me, Alpha. Please, please.”

“You can do it, baby.”

“I can’t, please. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

And you do. You chase the high vigorously. The jerks of your hips follow him, taking great precision in the way he slides his shaft up and down your swollen little seam, paying special attention to your clit. He can feel the way it jumps and throbs, all the juices flowing out of you dowsing over him, dripping down onto his knot.

He can’t look away, an obscenely beautiful sight. And the next time you quiver, clench around nothing, and call out his name, he just can’t help himself.

He slips inside of you with one, tenacious thrust. Met with no resistance, only warmth and fullness. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes bulged and lips hung open in surprise, before relaxing entirely. You melt into him, the fury of your need thawing with his gift, and you sigh a beautiful sound of reprieve. Vanilla melds with leather, interwoven, and he knows he’s ruined you for any others.

And he. He’s sweating, and panting, and the shudder won’t leave his spine. He’s never felt anything quite like it, the flutter of a fertile omega’s cunt around his cock. He was dreaming before, and now he’s awake. Startled by all that is perfectly right.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.” He rolls his hips once, the tip of him bruising your cervix, and you sigh his name. “Promised I’d make it all better, yeah?”

You use the leverage of his shoulders to crane your neck up, pressing your forehead to his. Your thighs straddle his ribcage, clinging to him, needy little pet that you are.

“S-so full, Alpha. It’s so big.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos. “But look.” He parts with a fleeting kiss to your chin, sitting back on his heels and dropping his gaze to where you’re connected. A thick ring of cream sits above his knot, and it pulses at the sight. “Look how well she’s taking me.”

You shakily bring yourself to your elbows, peering with drunken eyes and O-shaped lips. Your brows knit at the center of your forehead, and the precious, fucked-out look you cast up is enough to send him into motion.

He grunts, wrapping his hands around your hips and yanking your bum up and onto his thighs. His pace is slow but deep, focused on kissing your womb with every thrust. Now that he’s inside of you, he can focus on nothing but the result. How imperative it’s become that he fills you. Satiate the ache by pumping you with his seed. He bares his teeth, images of his spend dripping out of you flashing before his eyes. He needs it. Chases it with fury, a conquest. But he won’t let it go to waste. No, he needs to knot you. Be certain that every drop of it touches your womb. How it would feel to have you latched to him, the prospect of its ramifications—a swollen belly, a piece of you carrying a part of him—sounding nothing but appealing.

“JoelJoelJoel.” You’re repeating his name like a prayer, looking at him with such devotion.

He’s picked up his pace, instinctive. Hard enough now that your flimsy mattress springs squeak, and the headboard thumps against the wall. You’ve fallen back into your pillows, your hands coming up to knead and pull at your breasts, and fuck, if it doesn’t gratify him to see you lean into the pleasure.

He knows you're close when the tears at your waterline begin to stream down your cheeks. He scoots you further up his thighs, places a heavy hand back on your belly, and sure enough, on his next thrust, he can feel the bulbous tip of his cock through the skin. He grits his teeth, and he knows you must feel it too because you gasp as if he’s committed some sort of crime, shock and disbelief.

“Feel you—haa—in-in my stomach, Alpha.”

“That’s right, baby,” he grunts. “In your fuckin’ guts. Just where you needed me.”

His thumb drops to your clit, circles it with the rhythm of his thrusts, and makes you sing. There isn’t, and he’s sure there never will be, anything like the way you feverishly clench around him. Actively trying to suck him in, the steady flow of tears and cum, your incoherent babbles, beyond your control. He needs you closer, he needs to saturate you with every part of him.

He rolls onto his back, scooping you into his chest and dragging you along with him. Gets you good and propped on his bent legs before he drives up into you. You collapse onto his chest, desperate hands clinging to his pecs. You burrow your nose into his neck, and he nearly bursts at the seams when you tease your teeth across his beating gland.

“One more,” he seethes, bouncing you up and down with a great force; you needn’t even help him. He takes palm-fulls of your ass, secures the reins. Your hips will bruise by morning, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth the desperation in the way you cling to him, call to him. “Give me one more, Omega, and I promise I’ll give you what you need.”

You wail out, half protest, half pledge, and you’re actively clamping down on him. Working your tight cunt over his shaft, milking him closer and close to the shining edge, and he feels his belly begin to boil. His head pounds and his gland aches, and as soon as you release again, unable to curb yourself from the pleasure he vows, the voice worms its way back into his ear. Chanting now, now, now.

He spills into you with a mighty roar, stuffing his knot up inside of you as soon as it expands. He digs his teeth into your shoulder, pushes your hips further, and further down, nowhere else to go, but he has to be sure he’s filled you tight. That he can keep you here, locked onto him for as long as it takes to eradicate the delirium, as many times as you need him to fill your fertile little womb.

And you come again, all from just this. Tight, soft, and bruised, you clamp around his knot as if you’re worried you’ll lose it. And he squeezes his eyes shut at the overstimulation, bites on his tongue to curb the pain, and lets it flourish in glorious pleasure. His cock releases another string of cum, and Joel groans.

You’re hardly lucid on his chest, trembling, breathing heavily. One of your hands wraps around his sticky shoulder, clutching into his skin, trying to steady yourself. He works carefully to soothe you, to nurture the heavy come down, and avoid a dangerous drop. He scoots himself up the mattress, taking you with him until you’re both comfortably propped against the headboard; there’s no telling how long you’ll be united like this, but he has no intention of rushing it. He drags his large palms over the length of your spine, litters kisses along your hairline, and you both share a whining sound each time he stiffens and spurts inside of you. He allows his eyes to shut, focusing on steadying his breath, the sound of your beating heart.

Eventually, your body settles. You start to breathe evenly again, grow limp, purring little sounds of contentment. He lifts a hand to push away the hair that sticks to your cheeks, and you reach for it, latching your bony fingers around his wrist. You nuzzle your nose into his palm and wrap your lips around two of his fingers. He lets you suck on them like this for a while, humming, the salty taste of him seeming to quiet your nervous system and ease you back into a state of equilibrium.

There will be consequences for what’s transpired here. The post-euphoric clarity lays his transgressions bare and forces him to examine them. He feels, quite regrettably, the return of war. That between himself and his nature, though here and now, they are far more intertwined than they’ve ever been.

He has a decision to make, one that months, days, hours ago seemed so clear. That he will not give way for the monstrosity he harbors, if only to save you from a lifetime of horror and regret.

But the hours, minutes, seconds have passed, and they dwindle to this moment where he realizes, almost jarringly, how wrong he may have been. That the great fight against what nature bestowed him retreats within your stronghold. The worry is silenced, the weight lifted, the burden removed. He isn’t a soldier, but a man.

Only a man. So simple, and so freeing.

“Stay with me?” you mumble as if you can read his mind, letting his fingers slip from your lips, and already drifting to a place somewhere deep between sleep and wake. It’s a single question worth a million, holding the weight of your existence, the entire world.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that if he stays, no amount of self-control will prevent him from indulging your needs over and over again. He knows how brittle his distaste is—was, a façade—and how quickly he will devote himself to you.

You’re all he would require to live and breathe.

Most terrifying, he knows the primal urge will only continue to spread. And for some purpose far beyond him, while he’s coated in your scent and slick and the haven of your arms, he won’t be able to find a reason to stop himself from sinking his teeth into that sweet spot upon your neck.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, you. You’re a chance at redemption, something he is certain he relinquished decades ago. You’re an opportunity, an outlet to release his grief, his anger, his hatred for this world and his place in it, and turn it into devotion, protection.

He doesn’t deserve it.

But the way you look at him now, head nuzzled against his chest, pupil-blown eyes the picture of vulnerability, it satisfies the beast. Sets every nerve ending on fire. Tugs him forward frighteningly taut, unable to recoil.

You look at him like you need him.

And he needs to be needed. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll stay.”

3K notes · View notes

maybanksprincess · 27 days ago

Text

thigh riding.

warnings: thigh riding, fingers in mouth, kissing, jj cumming in his boxers, palming, tiny aftercare at the end.

summary: jj cums in his boxers to his pretty girlfriend riding his thigh <3

requested by this ask, (thank you anon!🤍)

it was 9:56 on a saturday night. your at jjs house and you had grown bored several hours ago. you were sick of scrolling on ur phone and seeing peoples instagram posts about their boring life.

you look over at your boyfriend in his gaming chair. he's wearing a wife beater and some grey sweatpants, his foot tapping the floor, softly drumming against the wood of the floorboard.

you can't help but bite your lip as you look at him, the way his arms flex, along his hands quickly pressing the buttons on his controller. you catch yourself pressing your thighs together in attempt to get some relief from the throbbing on your core.

you would've said something way sooner about wanting attention, but you couldn't bring yourself to draw your eyes away from how sexy he looked playing his video games.

you decide you want some attention, so you stand up, adjusting your shorts and then walking over to his gaming chair where his setup is.

He has his computer screen on the desk, along with a keyboard with crumbs of weed on it, (of course). Theres a joint, freshly rolled, beside his mouse.

you take a seat on his lap, straddling his thigh, and wrapping your arms around his neck. You bury your face in his shoulder and try to forget about the ache between your legs.

JJ immediately pauses his game, turning his attention to you, and setting down his controller on the messy desk.

"hey baby, what's wrong?" he asks in that raspy voice that never fails to turn you on. he looks at you with those baby blue eyes that make your heart race and your thighs clench.

"jus' wanted to be held..." you mumble, a little pout forming on your lips.

he can see the way your thighs clench as you look at his arms, and his lips involuntarily curve into a smirk. "yeah? you jus' wanted some attention, huh baby?" he can already feel his cock start to stir in his pants, and he shifts around, trying to get comfortable with you sitting on his leg all pretty like that.

in the process of him shifting around, his knee bumps up to your core, your eyes fly open and go wide, a high-pitched moan falling from your lips suddenly.

his smirk grows even wider "did that feel good mama?" he already knows the answer, but he wants to hear it out of your mouth.

you nod and start to ground your pussy on his thigh, the wetness in your panties starting to seep through onto his grey sweatpants.

jj groans at the sight, "mm your gettin' so messy f' me baby. keep riding my thigh. mhm jus' like that" he bites his lip to keep himself from pathetically groaning at the sight of you riding his thigh.

he reaches over with the hand that isnt on your waist to palm himself through his sweatpants. his eyes roll back, and he thinks about how good it would feel to be inside of you.

he starts to hear your breathing get heavier, your movements more frantic. "are you close baby?" he asks in that soft voice, gently tracing his veiny fingers along your thigh.

you nod, and your eyes roll back as you continue to ride his thigh. you can feel the pressure in your core building up and his sweet praises have you at the very edge.

"cmon sweet girl, 's okay. you gonna cum f' me?" he asks while using one hand to brush your hair away from your damp forehead, pushing your hair gently behind your shoulders. he sticks his two long digits into your mouth to help with the pressure.

at his praise, and warm fingers gently weighing on your tongue, the pressure in your stomach snaps, and your orgasm rips through.

at the sight of you riding out your orgasm, and the feel of your warm cum coating his thigh, his cock twitches in his pants and he cums, shooting thick ropes of white cum in his black calvin cleins.

he groans softly, still caressing your thigh, gently squeezing the flesh.

after a few moments of silence, he speaks. "you good baby?"

you continue to pant softly, mumbling out a soft "mhm"

he nods, and turns off his gaming device, and scooping you up in his arms. he carries you over to his bed and you two cuddle for the night <3

1K notes · View notes

ellecdc · 3 months ago

Note

I will bite (lol mating bite)

Remus with a best friend!reader who thinks her feelings for him are unrequited

his alpha presentation clicks in when she first presents as an omega - he immediately realizes they’re mates and is delighted, she doesn’t know he likes her and is freaking out that he’s going to feel trapped

🫣.......... okay twist my arm why don't you ;) jk - this theme/trope has been a bit of a brainworm/hyperfixation for me for a few weeks so thank you for indulging me, and sorry to my readers who this might not be their taste! but I definitely had fun with it so you may have to brace yourselves for more of it from me lol

Remus Lupin x best friend!reader who presents as an omega [3.5k words]

p1 // p2

CW: fem!reader, a/b/o dynamics and omegaverse, very soft a/b/o descriptions, SFW [nothing explicit or sexual in this fic], first a/b/o fic I've written so I'm truly just dipping my toes in lol, feelings of unrequited love [but its actually requited]

Loving Remus came as naturally as breathing to you; every inhale was the sweet smell of chocolate, warm sweaters, and worn books, and every exhale was a quiet whisper of “I love you” that you prayed to every deity he couldn’t hear.

Loving Remus was natural, but it was also harrowing; no one chooses to experience unrequited love, it’s simply one of those things that happens upon you.

But no matter how painful the fact that your feelings weren’t reciprocated was, the wholehearted comfort that being around Remus brought you was almost worth the heartache.

There was something in your soul that relaxed the second Remus was near; your entire being unclenched, knowing you were somehow safer, somehow more sound now that he was here.

And you hoped that, if nothing else, you provided the same for him.

The two of you had been friends for years; becoming fast friends in first year over your shared love of muggle literature and the fact that the two of you were a touch more shy than your respective peers.

The friendship never dimmed over time - if anything, it only became stronger with every passing year. No matter how mischievous his new friends were or how much trouble he got into with them around, no matter how many school yard crushes left either of you melancholy, no matter how many failed papers or late night study sessions that turned into heated spats because the two of you were far too overtired to handle anything maturely, and no matter how the moons came and went that effectively waxed and waned the Remus you knew in much the same way, the friendship had weathered it all.

It was one of your greatest possessions - this friendship you shared with Remus - and one of your proudest accomplishments.

And you weren’t going to let a silly crush (or, in your case, your gut-wrenching and undying devotion) ruin it.

Which is how you found yourself walking up the steps to James and Lily’s flat for your surprise party, preparing yourself to be surprised because Sirius insisted they throw you one but Remus knew you hated surprises and had warned you about it prior to your arrival.

You were admittedly not feeling up to a party - the telltale tickle in your throat warning you of an impending cold - though you were sure you wouldn’t have felt quite up to a party whether you were poorly or not. Parties were never quite your thing; you loved your friends, and you loved spending time with them, but that many of them in one place at one time and all for you felt a little bit like torture.

But you knocked on the door which was flung open before your hand even made its second knock and there was a sea of people cheering “happy birthday!” but your eyes - of course - found Remus first, and suddenly, you didn’t think this was torture. Suddenly this was heaven.

“Wha- you guys!” You started, smiling as James gave you a bone crushing hug, eyes never leaving Remus’.

“Surprise!” Lily giggled as she elbowed James out of the way to give you her own hug. “Were you surprised?”

“What do you mean ‘were you surprised’? I still am!” You agreed quickly, embracing Sirius who was next in line.

“Moony told you, didn’t he?” He murmured quietly into your hair, causing you to snort.

“Am I that bad an actor?” You asked him quietly, causing him to chuckle as he rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“No,” He answered quickly, “but he is just that soft on you.”

You hardly had a moment to consider what Sirius had said when Marlene was yanking you from his grasp to pepper your face in kisses as he shook his head over at his friend and started giving him shit for ruining the surprise.

After greeting every guest in attendance, you finally made it to Remus who wasted no time in pulling you into his chest.

“Happy birthday, dove.” He murmured into your hair; and you had sort of wished that the only plan you had for the rest of the night was to stay within his warm embrace.

“Sorry for getting you into trouble with Sirius.” You murmured back into his chest, delighting in the rumble of his laugh you elicited.

“Worth it; couldn’t handle you being miffed with me all night for not warning you.”

You - regretfully - pulled away to shoot him a bemused expression. “I could never spend an entire night miffed with you, Moons.”

Remus hummed noncommittally as he scanned your face. “Any amount of time would have been too much for me- hey, are you feeling okay?”

His face took on a concerned form that you found him too pretty to wear, and you suddenly felt bone-deep distress at having caused it.

“Why? I’m fine; do I not look fine?” You asked worriedly, bringing a hand up to your own face which was perhaps warm, but you weren’t feeling clammy.

The corner of his mouth twitched, though the furrow between his brows was ever present. “You look perfect, as usual, just… are you feeling alright?”

You let out a sigh, looking anywhere but his piercing gaze. “I think I’ve got a cold coming on, I’ll be alright though.”

His mouth pinched worriedly as he ducked trying to get you to make eye contact with him. “We don’t have to stay long then, yeah?”

You snorted as you gave him an unimpressed look. “We don’t have to stay long at the party for me that was thrown in part by you?”

“Right.” He agreed readily.

“I’ll be fine, Rem.” You assured him, patting his hand placatingly. “It’s my party, I can sniffle if I want to.”

And though he didn’t seem particularly convinced, he let you go when Sirius and Marlene announced that it was time to dance.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You were taking a breather in the small kitchen of James and Lily’s flat when you started to feel slightly worse.

The tickle in your throat had officially turned into an ache in your chest, and your head was pounding - be that from the music, the dancing, the drinks, or whatever flu you were coming down with, you couldn’t be certain.

But you found yourself feeling better as you let your head fall back against the cool wall; your hair falling away from your neck and allowing the air circulating the room to hit your overly hot neck and chest.

Maybe you should try to leave early?

“I’ll check.” You heard Remus announce; your face breaking out into a grin on its own accord as he came around the corner.

“Y/N.” He breathed out. “Are you alright?” He asked, standing in front of you with that damned furrow in his brow again.

“I’m alright.” Now, was left unsaid, but something in the tilting of his head alerted you to the fact that he heard it anyway.

“What’s gotten into you, hm?” He asked slowly; words stilted as his eyes darted across your face, mostly speaking to himself as he searched your form for answers.

“Did you find her?” James called out, causing Remus’ neck to crane as he peered around the door frame; and that’s when it hit you.

Chocolate, warm sweaters, and worn books.

Remus.

His scent.

Your head fell forward as you took a deeper breath, and the remnants of whatever cold you were catching dissipated.

And the whole evening clicked into place; the discomfort, his incessant worry and focus on you, you felt better for a moment because he was near - not because you took a moment to breathe, he could tell you were…

Oh god.

“Y/N.” He said again, alerting you to the fact that he was now standing rigidly still and staring at you imploringly. “What-”

“This can’t be happening…” You whispered, eyes glued to the point just under Remus’ jaw that was so disturbingly close yet somehow not nearly close enough.

“Are- are you…” Remus started, his gaze settling somewhere near your shoulder as he leaned closer to you and took a deep breath through his nose.

As if you scalded him, he went flying backwards from your being - his back making contact with the fridge so violently that it sent magnets flying.

Fuck, fuck! Fuck, he was going to hate you, now, surely? He hated you.

He hated you because he wanted you, but he only wanted you because you were fucking presenting - why? Why now? Why today? Why to him?

He’s never wanted you before; and now he would only want you because he was - what was very clear now - an Alpha and you were, apparently, an Omega.

Fuck.

“Fuck.” You hissed as you pushed the heels of your palms into your eyes until you could see stars.

“Dove-”

“No!” You shouted, pulling your hands away to see him having frozen in reaching out to you, now lifting his hands as if fending off a wild animal.

“Fuck, I need air.” You blurted, and you took off out the front door.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The evening air did little to quell your nerves and nausea over the events of the night.

To present, tonight out of all nights, in a tiny flat with nowhere to run without causing a scene.

Not to mention the precariousness of your relationship with Remus that you valued over everything was now hanging by a thread.

“You couldn’t have found us a more comfortable place to sit, gorgeous?” You heard Sirius drawl as he (loudly) took a seat on the curb beside you.

“I’m terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you so, Sirius.” You responded dryly.

“You ought to be.” He continued. “This is not how I wanted to spend your birthday party.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You scoffed, elbowing him in the side causing him to sway as if you’d put any real force behind it.

“If you fuck on, you get better results.”

You snorted. “Yeah, and if you fuck around you’ll find out.”

“Mmm, saucy, I like where this is going.”

“Padfoot.” You begged miserably, and he let out a relenting sigh before he pulled you roughly into his side, leaving his arm draped over you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting on a curb outside.” You answered, earning you a pinch in the side.

“I can see that; I mean, what are you doing out here by yourself? Why aren’t you inside with your man?”

“Stop it, Sirius.” You spat, hastily sitting up and wiping angrily at your face.

“Merlin, you both really are that thick, aren’t you?” He muttered, searching your face like it would somehow answer his question.

“If you’re out here to make fun of me, you can go back inside. I’m humiliated enough.”

Sirius shook his head sadly. “I don’t understand why the two of you are making this harder than it needs to be; you’re both clearly mad for each other, you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself because you think he doesn’t want you, he’s in there feeling sorry for himself because he doesn’t think you want him.”

“He doesn’t want me, Sirius. We’ve always only been friends.”

“But you want him?” He asked then, causing you to put your head in your hands.

“Sirius, please, don’t-”

“Do you want him?” He asked again, more forceful this time. “Simple question, Y/N, yes or no.”

“Yes!” You let out with a sob. “Yes! I’ve always wanted him! I’ve- fuck, I’ve been mad about him for years and… yes. Yes, I want him.” The end of your sentence trailing off as you picked angrily at your nail beds.

Sirius seemed to steal himself for a moment, nodding his head as he sucked in a breath.

“I started calling him Moony before I ever knew of his lycanthropy.” He admitted then; and though you weren’t looking in his direction, you could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

Sirius let that sit in the air before he got up and stood in front of you, forcing you to look up at him.

“I called him that because of the way he was always mooning after you.”

“Then why’d he freak? Why’d he rip away from me like that?” You asked - voice disturbingly small as you looked up at one of your oldest friends.

“Why’d you run?”

You let out a sigh and looked at the streetlights across the street instead of admitting “because I’m a coward”.

“I can’t lose him, Pads. I-” Stopping as a painful shiver shook your frame - the cold taking over again now that you had some distance from your…

From Remus.

But Sirius didn’t rush you, he just continued standing in front of you as you struggled to find the words.

“I can’t lose him.” You settled on.

“Then don’t.” He said, toeing your shoe with his.

“It’s not that simple.” You argued.

“It can be.” A voice sounded from behind you but a moment before you smelled him.

And though the rational part of your brain wanted to brace yourself, the rest of your body immediately softened in his presence.

“Well I’m going to go back in and enjoy the kick ass party I threw, so, if the two of you don’t mind…” Sirius said haughtily, shooting you a wink so that you knew it was all in jest and clapping Remus on the back before disappearing back into the building.

You listened as Remus lowered himself onto the curb beside you; guilt flooding through you at the way his joints cracked audibly and at the fact that he seemed to be leaving quite a bit of distance between the two of you that he wouldn’t have even just a few hours ago.

“Are you okay?” He started, and you fought the urge to scoff.

No, you thought petulantly, not only do I feel like shit, I’m also at risk of losing the thing that means the most to me.

“I’m fine.” You responded shortly, fixated on the skin surrounding your fingernails as you refused to look in his direction. “You alright?”

“No.” Remus answered quickly, and you did look up at that.

He was staring at you imploringly, his brows furrowed both with sympathy and perhaps a little bit of frustration.

“Why’d you run?” He asked then.

“I-” you started, though you weren’t exactly sure anymore. “You…you seemed so startled, I… I thought you were upset.”

He seemed to pause as he considered your response; this sort of caution not usual for the two of you this far into your friendship.

“I had just found out that the girl of my dreams was an Omega, and when she was clearly distraught, I was caught leaning in to get a better sniff.” He deadpanned, shaking his head at himself as he looked out across the street. “I startled because I was certain I was going to startle you.”

“I- you’re not? Startled, that is.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he shook his head, turning back to look at you. “Why would I be?”

“But…we’ve never been…more than friends; I didn’t want that to change now, just because you felt it had to.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He responded simply, and for reasons you weren’t willing to think on right now, that sentiment caused something very unpleasant to churn in your gut.

“Nothing would have to change; you could still be you and I could just be me, and that would be fine. Is that what you want?”

He held your gaze defiantly as you gaped at him. “I- but,”

“Is that what you want, dove?” He asked again, a slight force in his tone this time as he turned his body towards yours and his eyes flit down to your lips. “Because it is taking everything in my power not to claim you as my own right here, right now. I have wanted this for so long; so I ask you again, is that what you want? For nothing to change?”

“No.” You blurted quickly.

“No?”

“No.” You whispered, shaking your head as you turned your body to face him too. “No, no. I want you, I need you-”

“Now? You want and need me now, or-”

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you since fourth year, Remus. Since I figured out why I hated Emmeline Vance so much.” You practically sobbed.

“Why?” He asked softly, looking like his lip wanted to tip up into a smile though he was dutiful of your current upset. “Because she fancied me?”

“Because you fancied her.” You corrected miserably. Remus finally brought his hand up to cup your cheek at that, and you hardly had a moment to feel embarrassed at the way you quickly turned your head into his wrist so you could get a better smell of him.

“My poor, sweet girl.” He cooed softly, a sympathetic sound emanating from the back of his throat at the sound that his phrase elicited from you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please.” You whispered, no longer trying to withhold the desperation from your voice as you kept your nose pressed to the inside of his wrist and your eyes screwed shut.

“Okay.” He whispered back, even though he had no idea what you were begging him for - you supposed it didn’t matter; he didn’t seem particularly inclined to deny you anything you wanted right now.

“Rem-”

“I know.”

“Please.”

“I’m right here, dove.” He whispered, pulling you towards him by your hand as you followed all too willingly. “I’m right here.” He whispered again, nose brushing yours before you closed the distance between the two of you.

The sound of the traffic faded away, as did the tarmac beneath you and the air around you; you seemed to be floating in a vast expanse that contained nothing but you and Remus.

You took a moment to mentally kick yourself as you deepened the kiss - nipping at his lower lip and causing him to smile before granting you access - that you could have been, should have been, doing this for years.

“Ugh, fuck.” Remus muttered as he broke the kiss and rested his head against yours, seeming truly distraught at having to interrupt.

You didn’t even have a chance to ask what was wrong before you heard cheering from above you.

“Fucking finally!” James shouted as he pulled the tab of a party popper, showering the street below his balcony with multicoloured confetti.

��Pay up bitches; I told you this was the year.” Lily continued, holding her hand out expectantly as Marlene begrudgingly placed a few galleons into her friend's hand.

“Oi!” Remus shouted at the group, a protective arm snaking around your middle as he held you closer to him as if he was worried you’d simply float away, “You better pay Pads his fair share then!”

You snorted and shoved your face into Remus’ neck - hiding your face as a ploy to get closer to him without it being nearly close enough.

Remus chuckled as your friends filed back into the apartment and the world returned to its normal volume, bringing his free hand up to knead at your scalp in a way that made you want to purr like a sodding cat.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, looking down at you with an expression nothing short of worship.

“You okay?” You asked then, bringing one hand up to draw a line down the bridge of his nose, simply because you could now.

“I’m perfect, you’re perfect.” Remus pressed, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss before he pressed his nose against the spot on your neck just past your jaw.

You instinctually let your head fall back; his hand tightening in your hair as he let out a sound halfway between a laugh and growl.

“Don’t sodding do that.” He scolded you playfully.

“What?” You asked - half innocently half abashedly.

“Submit to me, you minx.” He explained, booping you on the nose for extra effect. “Let me at least take you out on a date, first.”

A date, you echoed in your head; you had spent a lot of time daydreaming as a girl about what your first date with Remus would look like. You’d always imagined spending the day in Hogsmeade buying sweets and gobstones and books and quills before heading back up to the castle.

This was turning out way better already, though.

“So long as I don’t have to share you with James.” You joked, peering over Remus’ shoulder where you could see James peeking through the curtains before a flash of a camera went off.

“Hm…I’m not sure I can promise that for the first date, but definitely for the second.”

“Deal.” You agreed readily, because really, you’d have Remus just about anyway you could have him.

And you were simply overjoyed to know that he apparently felt the same.

1K notes · View notes

moonlesslights · 1 year ago

Text

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

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teamatsumu · 11 months ago

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Thinking about Alpha!Sukuna who thinks all humans smell disgusting. He just cannot stomach their scent. To him it’s like smelling farm animals. Whether it was years ago during his time or now, while he inhabits the body of this pink-haired brat, humans still smell like cow manure. Overbearing and disgustingly heavy. He cannot stand it.

But when your scent hits his nose for the first time, he can’t help but stiffen. It’s…. light. Fresh. He smells coconut and citrus. It reminds him of the shrine made for him by the townspeople centuries ago, where they would offer him fruit and worship him. When he was revered and feared all the same.

He sees you then. Feisty little thing despite being an omega. You are a good sorcerer, filled with potential that he recognises even if your peers don’t. And Sukuna is hit with the overwhelming urge to scent you. In a way that the Alpha in him has never acted out before.

And it shocks him that you’re a human. A mere human who somehow fills him with intrigue. How dare you? But also, he needs you. Carnally. Now.

Once the King of Curses sets his eyes on you, good luck trying to escape him. You’re his forever. For the rest of his life.

#💭 late night ruminating #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #a/b/o dynamics #alpha sukuna #omega reader #jjk x reader #jjk a/b/o #jujutsu kaisen #omegaverse #alpha x omega #jjk fanfiction

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ervotica · 1 month ago

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as a fellow clumsy gal, i need john b in my life.

i just knowww that man is in tune with every one of your movements.

you're bounding round a corner too fast and john b sees the dip in the sidewalk before you do, his arms out and curling round your waist to redirect you with ease before calamity strikes.

he's the calm to your chaos, preempting every slip, soothing your frenetic rambles with a thick palm to your cheek, tucking your face snug against his shoulder as he coos to you in that low, placating voice.

when you get overstimulated - the group gets too loud, the lights are too bright and hurt your head, the material of your clothes makes you itch - he bundles you into the back of the twinkie and strips you bare from the waist up. he tugs his own tee over his head - looser on your frame and smelling like musk and sweat - and slips it onto your bare form, watching as you go lax and your posture slumps.

"attagirl. feel better now, pup?"

tying your shoelaces when you're too preoccupied wreaking havoc with jj to notice, forcing you to sit still long enough to check you over for hazards even as you bounce and fidget and bite your nails. you try to slip away a couple of times for fear of missing out on the action, only to be wrenched back down by means of his fingers twined round your ankle; yeah, your boyfriend is fucking strong.

whining when he traps you with a thick bicep round your neck and makes you sit, murmuring lowly in your ear until your brain starts to wind down and turn off, eyes growing heavy as you push closer into his arms.

you mewl sadly, calves winding around his own as you stretch lazily and tug at the hem of his shirt. he laughs good-naturedly and lets you herd him into bed like an overeager puppy.

his grip on you when he sleeps is like a vice; he has you locked tightly to his chest, a thick thigh wrapped over the backs of your legs to keep you pinned to him.

the rumble of his snores sends you right to sleep.

jombee🥺🥺🥺

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b-lossm · 11 days ago

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•+*Workout Plan*+•

Caitvi! x reader [modern au!]

Synopsis: two strong women at the gym want you?? wait,, they're girlfriends??

The New Workout Plan [+18]

You where exhausted, but you had to perservere.

As you walked into the gym you where talking to your friend on the phone "you know ever since I started to follow that workout plan, I got all my shit together" you talk to your friend as you walk to the locker room. When you walk in you notice these two girls talking, a taller blue haired one, and a slightly shorter pink haired one with tattoos, What you don't notice is how they eye you up when you walk by them, mumbling something not being better then a man

By the time you come out, all changed and ready to go, you notice the blue one looking at you but then quickly looking away and talking to the other 'weird' you think, self deprecating thoughts entering your mind but that doesn't stop you from heading to the platies room to attend your little workout class.

You sit on your pilaties machine and see the blue haired one from earlier and give her a little wave, hoping that she isn't as mean as you think she is. When you wave she gives you a little confident smile and waves back, immedately taking her phone out and quickly texts somebody, you assume its the pink haired girl from earlier.

Annoingly, yout instructor cancles last minute "freak my life" you mumble under your breath as you start to get your stuff "I know this is so annoying" you hear the blue haired girl next to you say, handing you your lipgloss that fell out of your bag "Almost lost this" she chuckles awkwardly and messes with her bangs. "Oh! Thank you" you say, smiling as you introduce yourself "Oh my name is Caitlyn" she awkwardly sticks out her hand for a handshake and you smile while shaking it 'shes pretty...' you think while talking to her and walking out of the room

She then sees the pink haired girl from earlier "Oh! Vi! come meet my new friend" she giggles as the pink haired girl looks suprised, a subtle pink flushing over her cheeks "Hi, I'm Vi" she introduces, looking at Caitlyn "Nice too meet you Vi, it is short for violence" you giggle while looking at her bandaged arms and hands. She then gives a knowing look to Caitlyn "hmm well i guess" she replies, winking.

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After that you guys just..clicked you guess, you found out they where in fact girlfriends so you pined for the both of them in secret while the three of your's friendship blossomed past gym buddies. You three where now watching a movie at their place, you and Vi where on the couch underneath one of Cait's massive blankets while she got the snacktray ready.

"Cait we're watching Waves!" you shout from the couch, not noticing how Vi was eyeing you up in your cute flowy nightgown. You where too busy being exited to introduce the two to this Masterpiece, "Come on! hurry up Cait!" you whine impatiently "Yeah Cupcake can't keep Dumpling here waiting right?" she chuckles while playfully pinching your side "Shut up" you giggle and playfully hit her while Cait comes back with the snack tray. Cait sighs "Ten minutes without me and you guys are already tearing up the place hm?" she takes a seat next to you instead of Vi, leaving you in the middle 'Weird' you think, sitting up as to not lean on one of the other's girlfriend.

About midway through the movie your hope to not lean into Cait, or Vi failed, your where laying on Cait while Vi laid between your legs and rested her head on your tummy "Why is he yelling at her? He said that its okay if they keep it....like I get that its a high school pregnancy but she is valid to be sad.." Vi complained, tracing shaped into your side "Its just the way he is, He's a very angry and stressed character" You say as Cait plays with your hair "You'll see" you start to massage her scalp with Vi's hair and she sighs relaxing and even leaning into your touch.

As the movie progresses, and you watch the perspective switch Cait and Vi eventually awkwardly switch places with each other. "This movie is so.. complex" Cait says while leaning into your stomach "Its beautiful.... It shows how someone's life is effected in a time of grief and how it effects them, but it also shows that they can love again while going through it" you sigh and lean into Vi's soft touches "S' a real emotional movie Dumpling, didn't know you liked such emotional stuff like this.." she yawns and looks at you and Cait laid out on top of her

By the time the movie is over you start to help them clean up, not knowing how to react after basically spending the whole two hours cuddling "Uhm.. I should head home" you say, already putting your shoes back on only stopping due to Vi gently grabbing your wrist, her hand sliding down to meet yours "no!--uh, stay.. with us.. Please?" she says awkwardly, Cait coming over too see that their plan has worked "Its really no problem y/n" she says with a soft but confident smile, holding Vi's shoulder "Oh! uhm.. alright" you say with a soft smile, as you let them lead you to their room "In your bed..?" you tilt your head slightly 'cute' the girls think "Mhm, is that a problem, Dumpling?" Cait says, 'shut up are they seriously asking me to sleep in their bed' you think as you bashfully set your bag down and you pull out your brush and follow Cait to their shared bathroom to brush your hair, Vi lays on their bed and admires the two of you, wishing and hoping to see this everyday.

When you eventually get in their bed you find yourself on the edge to give them space but then Cait speaks up "What are you doing..? come here" she pats the space in between them 'holy shit' you think as you awkwardly crawl over to the space "So.....how's the weather?" you say with an awkward giggle and then the two then take initiative and lean into you, awkwardly shuffling before finding a nice cuddling position.

"uhm.. goodnight Cait.. goodnight Vi" you yawn, leaning to hug Vi who is in front of you while Cait braids your hair so it doesn't get tangled up "Goodnight Dumpling" Vi kisses your wrist "Goodnight y/n" Cait kisses your head.

You didn't wanna ruin the moment and mention how your only friends with them right now and how you felt a little weird, but I guess that's a talk that can wait for tomorrow.

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meowmeowmeowmeow umm spoilers for next part maybe its probably gonna be sesbian lex and I'm not gonna talk about how they all get together so !!

#b lossm #arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #vi fluff #wlw x reader #caitlyn kiramman fluff #caitlyn kiramman x you #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi x reader

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drewsephrry · 2 months ago

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he got so excited awww

(via kevinmccarthy on instagram)

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malereadermaniac · 7 months ago

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Betrothed ~ Alpha FireLord Zuko x Omega male reader

Even after his father had been overruled, Zuko couldn't experience true freedom; bound by his duty as firelord Part of that duty was of course, as an Alpha, to find a mate and continue the lineage of the fire nation But when the firelord is brought a familiar face by the royal matchmaker, he's put at ease word count: 3.1k Sfw & Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Zuko felt uncomfortable - both physically and emotionally. Physically, the firelord was uncomfortable from the head to toe firelord get-up; his advisors insisting he wears traditional Alphan fire lord clothing to his matchmaking appointment. He was deemed one of the luckiest men in the world, an Alpha born into not only wealth but royalty, but those blessings came with their own limitations. Zuko wanted to choose his partner, he wouldn't care of their secondary gender or status, the alpha just wanted the real love he had been deprived of all his life - and that was the root of his emotional discomfort. But nonetheless, as FireLord, he had a duty to his people and his honor, so Zuko was willing to go through with whatever was about to come.

As the matchmaker walks into the arranged meeting room, Zuko's nerves turn 10 fold - but he, of course, doesn't let that show, a simple chill running up his spine instead. He watches as the evidently Beta woman places down her folder and a packet of scent patches, sneaking a peak at her notes when she opens her folder; many graphs of scent compatibility catch Zuko's eyes along with his profile, clearly this woman takes her job seriously. After the matchmaker introduces herself, she hands out scent patches to any Alphas or Omegas in the room, allowing for Zuko to only be able to smell his soon-to-be mate and as to not overwhelm the Omega - afterwards, the woman starts to give a brief rundown of what will occur. Zuko listens attentively as he fidgets with his fingers beneath the table: the omega will walk in, she will read his brief information, the two will greet and scent each others wrists, if Zuko accepts the Omega then any advisors and herself will leave the room for the two to talk. It felt like the woman was talking forever, the FireLord's heart beating quicker and quicker by the second, but once she finally stopped, Zuko's head snapped to look at the door as the matchmaker stood up to let his future mate into the room. The last thing Zuko expected to see was his childhood friend - you, (y/n) (l/n).

"(Y/n)?!" Zuko stutters out, going to stand up but his advisors easing him to sit back down

"Ah! Zuk-..." you stopped yourself when you saw the matchmakers face, procedures had to be followed to a tee according to her. You make you way to the table Zuko was sat at and bow with grace

"FireLord Zuko, it's an honor"

Holy shit, your voice had such an immense effect on Zuko, the title of FireLord rolling off of your tongue perfectly. You were dressed in traditional clothing, ridiculously adorned with fire nation accessories, the sleeves of your clothing long enough to cover your hands as you nod and bow - you looked enthralling. Zuko had never seen you in this light, his contact with you having been cut before your secondary gender had shown itself, but man, did you really grow into a full Omega. Your scent was surprisingly the last thing the Alpha had noticed, but once he took a note of it, it was all the man could think of; a soft smell of flowers and cotton, it reminded Zuko of the happy portion of his childhood, but most of all it made his inner Alpha flare up like mad. The matchmaker starts to read off your information as you sit down in front of the royal, the both if you fighting smiles.

"(Y/n) of the affluent fire nation family of (L/n). Overall healthy with a blood type and astrological match with the FireLord. Most importantly, a 98% match between their pheromones. His fire bending is passable, but he passed top of his class in fire-healing. He has etiquette training, cooking, cleaning, and even medicinal skills as well as a fertility of 0.7 - one of the highest in the nation."

You cringed at all of your personal, embarrassing details were read off and watched as Zuko's advisors checked off on their little clipboards - but all of your negative emotions vanish when you catch Zuko's eyes, the warm smile on his face putting you at ease immediately. His scent was not only calming and anything but overwhelming, but it also felt like it was perfect for you, it was like gold was running through your veins every time you took a breath. The two of you snapped out of your infatuated dazes from the matchmaker coughing to draw attention. Zuko's advisors mumbled amongst themselves and then one whispered to Zuko, which resulted in a smile from the handsome Alpha which was followed by a nod - then, the next thing you knew, Zuko was holding out his wrist.

"May I scent you, (y/n)?" Zuko asked, initiating the scenting with his voice smooth like silk. You immediately agree and rub the scent gland on your wrist against Zuko's, your muscles instantly fully relaxing as his scent sticks to your gland. The two of you watch as all surrounding people leave the two of you alone and sit in a brief silence; that is until Zuko softly breaks it. Usual small talk turns into friendly catching up, Zuko interested in your life after the two of you were forced apart by life - you'd both talked about missing and thinking about each other and how you'd even witnessed Zuko's Agni-kai with his father. Over the half an hour that the two of you talked, your hands slowly crept closer together until Zuko's strong hand had its slender fingers intertwined with yours. Just before his advisors interrupted the two of you, Zuko had asked a question that shocked you

"Do you want to be my mate?"

Zuko knew the two of you had no choice in the matter, but because of his history with you, his previous and current soft-spot for you, he would want anything but to keep you in a forced relationship for his own benefit. After a short silence, a soft nod from you put Zuko's heart at ease; but that peace was only shortly lived until his advisors walked in and had you two follow along, the life of royalty barely giving the Alpha a chance to breathe. The two of you walked behind Zuko's head advisor, his other few trailing behind you both - and even they couldn't help but notice how right you two looked walking next to one another. After being escorted to your new shared bedroom, Zuko's advisors planned to take Zuko away to further discuss your relationship; however a wrench had been thrown into their plans when Zuko immediately disagreed, demanding that a discuss that surrounds you should include you. The way that the Alpha stood up for you made you beam internally, a small smile making its way onto your face, and with no room for argument, you left the room with Zuko and his advisors towards the meeting room. Passing by the throne room, the two of you notice some workers build you a throne as they did for Zuko - those advisors work really quick it seems - the both of you take into account how Zuko's is taller and positioned just a little higher than yous...

"We propose that the wedding happens by the end of the month" the lead advisor begins the discussion. The scene isn't necessarily foreign to you, your father having you sit in on meeting with the previous FireLord in this very room, a large table sits in the middle of the room, Zuko is positioned at the head with you next to him (kneeling in the floor) as his advisors sit at the opposite end.

"Isn't that a little too soon? Can't we have it by the end of the year?" Zuko argues, clearly not wanting to rush a delicate process

"One month is quite generous already, Lord Zuko... You must pull your nation together, a royal wedding is the type of celebration you need - the sooner the better, ten months is far too long" another advisor pops up

"One month isn't even enough time for me to properly court (y/n)" Zuko fights back, a calm demeanor on his face as he looks towards you and smiles

"My Lord, the Omega isn't the priority at this point in time, keep in mind you also need to provide an heir" the main advisor explains

"An heir? I understand the wedding, but the throne will receive an heir when the two of us so wish!" Zuko's tone shifts, clearly offended at the suggestion that your purpose in this marriage is to pop out pups

"Why don't we compromise to five months?" You pipe up, fidgeting with your sleeves as you look at the advisors

A short silence fills the room

"Don't speak during meeting, Omega" one of Zuko's advisors says to break the silence. All of then were thinking it, he was just stupid enough to say it

"I beg your pardon? Leave" Zuko demands, his tone devoid of emotion, and when the advisor protests, one look towards his guards has them remove the advisor from Zuko's meeting room.

"U-Uhm- Five months is acceptable, thank you" the lead advisor acknowledges your point, the first time you'd even been looked in the eyes by one of Zuko's trusted men

After the awkward meeting that surrounded your near and far future, the rest of your day reflected the whirlwind prior, sorting out royal duties and meeting Palace staff. But as the sun began to set and you made your way back to your room, Zuko stopped you

"Yes, my Lord?" You ask, looking up into Zuko's eyes with soft, tired eyes

"Y'know you can just call me Zuko..." the alpha blushes, the title really affecting him only when it came from your soft lips

"Haha... sorry, guess my training really did work" you chuckle

"Hmhm... was it really that intense?" Zuko asks as he starts to walk with you to the royal bedroom

"I mean... if you'd say 4 hours of etiquette training and 3 hours of learning how to please an Alpha a day is intense then yeah" you say with a sly smirk, the sarcasm in your voice evident

"Wow... I didn't even know... I've only ever had the regular royalty lessons" Zuko mumbles, closing the door behind you

"Yeah... even if I come from an affluent family, my secondary gender makes me get treated like a mutt" you say with a smile

"Well I promise you... I won't let that happen around here if I can help it." Zuko says sincerely, holding your hand in his firmly. The sweet gesture makes you blush, your words failing to come out of your mouth; your scent glands running rampant from receiving basic respect for once in your life! After a few minuets of silence, looking into each others eyes while blushing and breathing in each other's scents, Zuko suggests the two of you get to bed. You have to rip your eyes away from the Alpha as he let's his hair down, stripping off his heavy attire to his bare chest.

"Ah! Sorry! I'll step into the bathroom if you need" Zuko says with a worried look on his face as your insane scent snaps him out of his thoughts; your blushed face and eyes fixed on his toned body really giving away that your instincts were taking over.

"No! Sorry! Oh my, I'm so sorry!" You shout, tearing your eyes away and turning around embarrassed. Zuko chuckles and continues to change, but the same ordeal repeats when you begin to change - however, it was even more intense as the Alpha was practically drooling at the sight of your bare skin.

Sleep was very needed after such a chaotic day, and after a chaotic week, and a chaotic month. At some point, Zuko asked for your permission to court you, proposing with the crown given to the FireLord's mate; and of course, you agreed. Life started to seem less chaotic after that. Zuko would shower you with gifts every day and ensure to spend at least 4 hours a day with you, taking you out on dates to prestigious restaurants and on smaller dates in the Palace Gardens; it was enjoyable, it was the secondary school experience the two of you never had, having either been in private tutoring or single gender private school. It was also very evident that the two of you had never had your firsts in everything, of course, because of valid reasons; Zuko had been exiled near the time his secondary gender had come through! And you were under strict orders to stay untouched until you were mated, being collared for most of your life. But still, it was very evident that you two were massive virgins.

Point A: When Zuko proposed to court you with the priceless, beautiful artifact of the Royal family, you hugged him. The way that the Alpha turned red within seconds, his pheromones suffocating you, Zuko desperate to keep you in his touch as he scented you. It was clear that the young FireLord had never had even physical contact with an Omega.

Point B: The first kiss that the two of you shared. On a small picnic date in the gardens of the Palace under the moonlight a month into the alpha courting you, Zuko asked to kiss you. And holy shit when he did, the two of you were inseparable. Your lips were stuck to Zuko's for an entire half an hour, his tongue devouring your mouth as Zuko was taken over by his inner Alpha, pushing you gently to the ground and hovering above you. Your pheromones and his were running rampant, mixing in the air to make a stunning aroma, your moans were music to the Alpha's ears as your stomach did flips just from kissing Zuko. You could feel how hard Zuko was as he was grinding against you, desperate to feel you, desperate to have whatever he's been craving since he presented. Luckily, some guards stopped the two of you from doing anything that would get you into trouble.

Point C: Zuko is only 20, jealously is understandable. So when Sokka paid a visit to the Palace and required you healing after doing something stupid, Zuko had never felt what he felt in those few minutes. You, seeing another Alpha naked, touching his body to heal him with your fire, you'd never done that for Zuko! His pheromones were sour and his chest hurt, and once Sokka made his way to the guest room and you and Zuko to your own room, the Alpha demanded to know if you were infatuated by his water tribe friend. It was so evident that even seeing someone else's naked body was a high level of intimacy to Zuko, and even to you, it was at the time. But after kissing for the whole night, the Alpha's hands roaming your body gently, his jealousy faded away.

Eventually, the two of you made it official, Zuko's advisors already scheduling the wedding for the end of that week. The nation was ecstatic, hundreds of thousands of people either showed up or read about your wedding and mating to the FireLord. And that night, after finally getting permission from his advisors, Zuko set his eyes on marking you...

That night was intense, and it went on for ages, so here's a brief recap:

Once the two of you were basically locked in your bedroom by your advisors, Zuko decided to initiate

He held you against the door, and after gaining permission from you, looked down into your fucking sexy eyes, held your chin up to him and quickly started to kiss you

The Alpha held your waist and you chin, his tongue dominating you along with his insanely powerful and attractive scent

The two of you made your way to the king-sized bed without breaking the kiss once - Zuko on top of you as he undresses you

Once the two of you were naked, all hell broke loose

Your legs were placed onto the Alpha's broad shoulders, his two slender fingers immediately going to your slick-leaking hole

Moans filled the grand room along with a rich aroma of your scent mixed with Zuko's

You had cum already just from Zuko's fingers, and once he had licked up all of your sweet, sterile cum, Zuko aimed his huge Alphan cock at the entrance of your hole

The two of you went at it for what felt like hours, your bodies covered in sweat and scent glands releasing so many pheromones that they were beginning to liquefy and pool by your glands

Your hole had been stretched long ago, taking the shape of Zuko's huge, veiny dick

Eventually, Zuko couldn't hold back anymore, knotting you and cumming in unison with his Omega - the two of you taking the opportunity to fulfill your duty and mark each other

With that out of the way, the two of you spent the rest of the night making passionate love to one another, pleasuring each other in so many ways that your combined orgasm count for the night was 17! Luckily you two are literally built to have shit tons of sex!

And after that night, the two of you couldn't get enough of each other after finally tasting what you had been missing

For now, you were on the most expensive birth control - pills made in the earth kingdom using natural herbs and minerals that are almost 99% effective at keeping you and Zuko from providing an heir a little too early

So with the worries of pups out of the way, you two would go at it like... well... Alpha and Omega

Heats were insane but well spent with Zuko, the Alpha eating you out and fingering you for and hour minimum, making you orgasm plenty of times before satisfying the burn in your stomach with his huge cock

Zuko's ruts were when shit really hit the fan, his advisors would have to leave the palace and have it guarded for the week it lasted - luckily they were more rare than your heats

In summary, your Chambers walls have seen many things: from you worshiping the Alphan firelords body to Zuko letting you, the light of his life his Omega, ride him like a toy without permission to touch you

And in the future, once you two are ready for pups, Zuko can't wait to be the father he never had - and he knows that seeing you as a dad and care for his pups will further awaken something within him he never knew he had before meeting you

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luvstarss · 7 months ago

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Life as a family with JJ maybank

Warnings:None!

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starsinthesky5 · 3 days ago

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make me juno* || joe burrow x reader

description: he loves you right and he wants your touch for life too. you realize one of you is cute, but two though? you just might let him make you juno ;)

a/n: surprise! felt the urge to write this so here we are. ALSO, I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I SAW JUNO PREFORMED LIVE. LIKE BITCH. I CANT.

i hope this doesn’t suck lol. i’ve been in a slump lately and i feel so bad for keeping everyone waiting like this ;(

warnings: SMUT. it’s alot. ALOT. & language. MDNI

word count: 16.1 k

taglist (comment and ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeys-babe @joeyb1989 @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87

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“God, he looks so hot when he gets out of the shower,” you murmured under your breath, feeling a rush of heat rise from your toes to your head. “If he just grabbed me by the hips and threw me underneath him, pressed that mouth against my ear…put that hand on my stomach, holding me in place like I’m his entire world…oh god I would–…,” you daydreamed. Your breath hitched at the thought and your eyes screwed shut from the images you were seeing, it was almost too much, the way just the sight of him could set your mind and body on fire.

And then you heard his voice, soft and teasing. “You okay over there?” he asked you because of how quiet you had been since he came out of the bathroom.

You opened them a few seconds later, your cheeks red because you thought he caught you red-handed but when you glanced over at the cause of your friskiness–your husband–he was innocently sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to you. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends and a few stray water droplets clung to his golden skin as he squeezed out the final dab of his favorite lotion–cucumber scented, something you put him on–and began massaging it into his collarbone. He looked so relaxed and at peace, but your mind was far from the leisurely place he was likely in. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to share the idea that had been swirling in your head all evening since he came home from practice.

When he first walked in with that Bengals beanie on his head, those gray sweats hanging low around his waist, and that adorable baby pink Nike sweatshirt clinging to his frame, you nearly fainted. How could he look so adorable yet so sexy at the same time? Like he was one second away from holding a little baby in his arms or one second away from putting a baby inside of you.

You were already teetering on the edge, your hormones wreaking havoc inside you after he left you high and dry this morning, so his post-practice look made it much worse. He’d skipped out on a quick, pre-practice rendezvous, leaving your needs painfully unmet. What started as a soft, gentle good morning kiss quickly shifted to a sloppy, breathless makeout session, his hands pulled you closer as you begged for his touch–or anything–to bring relief to the ache in between your thighs. But his multiple alarms had other plans.

So as he made his swift exit, you were left to fend for yourself. There were several things you could have done while he was away to experience that delicious ecstasy coursing through your veins. However, you rarely took matters into your own hands because you didn’t want to take away Joe’s right to see you reach that blissful state—the one he was responsible for inducing for the rest of his life ever since he slipped that beautiful diamond ring onto your finger. He prided himself when it came to bringing you to that heavenly place, so you never wanted to strip him of his right. It was the way he carefully watched your every reaction to know what you liked and didn’t like, his focus persistent, as if your pleasure was his biggest accomplishment. It was his right, his privilege, to unravel you in that way.

So, you did your best to push those heated thoughts to the back of your mind, even if they lingered long enough to leave you flustered for the rest of the day. And it felt like every little thing was working against you; the graze of your clothing against your skin, the way your mind would wander back to the last time his hands were on you, and even the painfully innocent texts from him that asked how your day was going.

You were so fucking horny and there was nothing you could do about it.

And then when you saw him once he came home from practice, those hormones went into overdrive fast. It’s as if every sense was heightened. Every time his fingers would graze over your clothed shoulder, you felt like ripping your clothes off. Whenever his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than usual, you felt like pouncing onto him. Every time he curled up on the couch to work on the pac-man arcade Lego set you bought him, you daydreamed about him building a Lego set with his little one, his child, your baby…one day.

Those daydreams had become quite frequent, to be honest.

You and Joe had been married for a little over a year now, and married life was everything you had dreamed of. Maybe even more. It still felt as though you two were dating because the spark between you hadn’t dulled; it only deepened. Everything about your life as husband and wife felt easy, natural, and light, almost as if you two were perfectly in sync.

Your home became a safe space filled with reminders of your love; framed photos from your honeymoon lining the walls, the scent of his cologne lingering on all your clothes and blankets, and a daily habit of finding tiny notes he left for you in the most random places. It was like living in your own little bubble of love, unbothered by the chaos of the outside world. Those evenings when you’d lounge together on the couch, his arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you watched the latest episode of some trashy reality TV show, were your favorites. Those nights when you’d cook together, teasing each other about who was better at chopping the vegetables, which would eventually turn into a food fight because neither of you would admit defeat, was maximum domestic bliss for you. And other nights, when you’d order takeout and slow dance in the kitchen, barefoot and carefree to “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift, reassured you that you made the right choice by saying yes to spending forever with your favorite person in the entire world.

Everything was perfect with just the two of you, yet in those quiet moments when you caught Joe’s soft gaze lingering on a family, or the way he playfully messed up your nephew’s hair, or like earlier, when he’d come home looking like he was coming home to his wife and baby, you couldn’t help but wonder what life would look like if it was the three of you.

The thought came unprovoked sometimes, like when you’d be in the grocery store, lost in thought imagining the faint pitter-patter of tiny feet across the hardwood floors because you walked past the baby clothes, or picturing Joe cradling a baby in his strong arms because you saw his teammates doing so with their families. You wondered what it would be like to have your own little one–a perfect blend of the two of you.

There was no rush, of course. Life with Joe felt full and beautiful just the way it was–just the two of you and football, a rhythm you’d fallen into easily and had been dancing to since LSU. But lately, the thoughts of Joe talking to your baby bump had become more common and it made your heart ache in the best way. You could almost imagine waking up in the morning to his cheek pressed against your belly, whispering promises to his little tiger who was growing inside of you. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you breathless.

You had talked about wanting kids together before you got engaged and you two were on the same page about all of it, like you were about everything else in your relationship. But the one thing you had never talked about was when.

The idea of Joe as a father made you want to kick your feet back and forth like a little girl; the image, the idea of it, was absolutely adorable and tooth-rottingly sweet. You wanted to see his hands, the ones that clung to you, cradling a tiny bundle of joy that you both created through your love for one another. You wanted to hear his adorable little laugh as he played peekaboo or watch his face light up the face time your baby wrapped their little fingers around his.

You knew it wasn’t about if, only when. You wanted it, him, and everything that future could hold so badly that it made you ache in ways you couldn’t even put into words. He was your home, your safe place, your everything. Joe had this way of filling every corner of your heart, making you feel so cherished and complete, and the thought of sharing that love with your child was overwhelming in the most beautiful way. You adored him more than you thought it was possible to adore anyone. You had no doubt he’d make the best father and the way he cared for you, for the people he loved, was proof enough.

You needed this with him. God, you’d do anything to have it with him.

“...Joe?” you finally said, snapping out of your thoughts.

He turned around slightly to look at you, placing the bottle of lotion to the side and raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”.

You felt a wave of nervousness come over you, but you were already too lost in those thoughts to go back. “Here goes nothing,” you thought as you flipped onto your back, your head leaning against the bed frame as you held your phone close to your chest, “...H- Have you ever thought about…spicing things up a little?” you asked, your voice so faint and gentle, almost trying to sound innocent.

Joe tilted his head in confusion, “Spicing things…up?” he echoed. “What do you mean?” he added with a small chuckle.

You felt your heartbeat increase, your breathing deepening, and your palms becoming sweatier by the second. You sat up, still clutching your phone, “Like new…positions? I- I was doing some late-night research,” you said, trying to remain casual but you couldn’t help but wince at the burning sensation in your cheeks.

Joe’s lips shifted into a smirk as he turned to face you fully, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely around his waist and his bare chest basically an open invitation for you to mark him up. “Late-night research, huh? Even late at night, you’re thinking 'bout me?” he wiggled his eyebrows and said. “What exactly did you find?” he chuckled.

You quickly unlocked your phone and pulled up the image you had saved earlier–a diagram of a particularly intricate position that had you on edge for the past few hours because of the mental image it gave you. “Have you ever tried, this one?” you asked, holding your phone out to him.

Joe’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the screen, “Wowwww,” he said, dragging it out with a giggle. “This looks… ambitious,”.

You broke out into a laugh, sitting up on your knees and moving closer to him, “You mean to tell me, Mr. Quarterback doesn’t think he can handle it?” you teased.

His eyes snapped up to yours, a playful yet challenging sparkle in them, “Oh, I can handle it,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But can you?”.

You eyed him up and down for a second, feeling the heat in your belly grow with each glance at the little happy trail below his belly button which led to what you were craving. “Don’t underestimate your wife, Burrow. She’s got moves,” you said, running your hand up his muscular chest, your ruby-red nails leaving light scratches as you inched toward his neck.

“Oh, does she now?” he smiled, moving closer to you.

“Yes, she does. Maybe you should let her show you?” you whispered, moving closer to him, your lips planting a few light kisses along his jaw to finish your sentence.

Joe pulled back, meeting your tell-tale eyes to see if you were serious, and the unwavering fire behind them told him you were. He grabbed your phone from your hand, setting it down on the nightstand, his grin widening, “Alright, challenge accepted. But don’t get mad if this turns into an Olympic-level workout,”.

“Gotta go for the gold, baby,” you winked. “We’re too skilled to back down,”.

—

A little later, the two of you were naked and sprawled across the bed, Joe holding the phone up for reference as you tried to untangle yourselves from the failed first attempt at the intimate position. “Wait,” he said, squinting at the screen. “Is your leg supposed to go over my shoulder or–,”.

“Your leg!” you cut him off, giggling as you pointed to the diagram. “It’s definitely your leg! But wait, I think we have it all wrong because no leg needs to go over a shoulder. Is the photo upside down?”. You were even unsure of it yourself, you never really switched it up like this in the bedroom so this was equally as hilarious as intimidating.

Joe groaned as he dropped his head, then flopped onto his back dramatically, “This is starting to feel like a TikTok challenge, babe. Sex should not be this difficult,”.

You grabbed the pillow from underneath your head and whacked him with it as giggles fell from your lips, “You’re the one who said you could handle it!”.

He caught the pillow, tossing it to the side as he rolled back toward you, “I know, but whoever made these positions clearly is against getting laid because half the time would get wasted just figuring out whose leg goes where. Maybe we should just stick to what we do best? That always works best for us and things…things are already super spicy whenever you end up underneath me, why try to change it?” he winked as his smile softened.

“You’re probably right. I don’t feel like being more sore than usual for no reason and that looks like something that’d make me pull a leg muscle or two,” you laughed.

“You still up for it? Or did you just want to do something different tonight and you’re over it now,” he asked, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to push you into doing something if you weren’t feeling it anymore, he only cared about your pleasure and he was worried that not being able to figure this out would put a dent in your high.

“Oh, yes,” you groaned, waving away his worries. “I’ve been about 5 seconds away from letting go ever since you left me high and dry this morning,” the words falling out of your mouth instantly with no shame or hesitation.

Joe’s face dropped slightly, “Sorry about that,”. He really did feel bad for leaving you this morning, but he knew better than to be late to today’s practice. The day before, you woke up similarly, except Joe’s head was stuffed in between your thighs for ten minutes before he held you on top of him for another twenty. The extra thirty minutes in bed–although blissful and oh-so-delicious–caused him to be the last one in the facility and the last one to get to the morning meeting, and everyone was on his ass about it. Especially, because of that pretty golden tattoo you left on his neck that he forgot to cover up.

“Damn, Joe. Ever since you got married it’s like you became even more pussy whipped than you were before,” Ja’marr teased.

“God Damn, Joe. Give Y/N a break before she starts sleeping in the guestroom. She’s probably tired of your ass,” Tee laughed, earning a chuckle from Ja’marr.

“Listen, son. I know being young and in love and newly married is…uh…exciting and…*cough*...thrilling..but you have a job and as the team leader, it doesn’t look good to walk in here with your shirt on backward and those marks on your neck. Bad example for the guys,” Zac awkwardly whispered to him.

“Ah,” you interjected, pushing a finger to his pink, plump lips. “I’m not mad. I’m just so fucking horny and the way you looked when you came home plus the way you looked after your shower made it worse,”.

He wishes he could show this to them right now. It would be the perfect, “Loserrrrr” moment for him to tease his guys about. You would and could never get tired of him, or this.

He raised an eyebrow at your cheeky confession, “Really?”.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I don’t care how we do it, I just want you,” you said softly, your hand shifting into his hair as you pushed him closer to you, close enough to press your lips against his.

Joe melted into your lips the moment they collided, his hands naturally found your hips, gripping them firmly, pulling you to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go. In one swift motion, his body shifted and he was on top of you again. His movements were unhurried but filled with a desperate kind of tenderness that made your heart race. He wanted you just as badly, if not more. Ever since he slid that gorgeous ring onto your finger, something in him shifted. Joe had always been obsessed with you, but now? Now, it was like he literally couldn’t function without you. Just one glance at your face, whether you were freshly awake with a bedhead or dressed up for a night out, his composure would crumble. You’d catch him staring at you every so often, his eyes dark and filled with lust, and before you knew it, you were pushed against the closest surface and his name was falling from your lips over and over.

It didn’t take much to push him over the edge, the mere sound of your laugh and the curve of your smile were enough to drive him crazy. Joe might have been many things, but with you? He was a man utterly and unapologetically consumed by love, and by you.

“Just hold me and explore me, baby. Stick to what you do best, that’s more than enough,” you murmured between kisses, your voice soft and laced with affection. His lips stilled for a second as he absorbed your words, and when his eyes met yours, they were filled with a familiar promise of love and devotion. Without breaking the kiss, his hand reached back for the white sheets, tugging them over the two of you.

You felt his thick erection slide against your slick folds, each slip and slide sending a flutter throughout your belly, the sensation prompting you to pull away. “Please,” you hissed, “I need it,”.

“I know, baby,” he chuckled, pushing your lips back to his as he pressed you further back into the cloud-like bed. “You’re so wet…wonder what got you like this,”.

“You,” you whimpered, feeling his lips slide along your jawline, then to that spot on your neck that he loved, and then anywhere they could go to hear your pretty, soft, open-mouthed moans. “J- Joe,” you whispered, feeling him position his cock right at your entrance while he suckled on the spot below your ear.

“Hold on for me,” he groaned, then pushed into your warm, dripping core in one strong movement.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion. Your hands instinctively found their way to his back, fingers digging into his taut muscles as you clung to him with everything you had.

His body moved against yours with a fast, frantic need, every thrust igniting a fire that burned hotter with each second. His rhythm was raw and relentless as if he couldn’t bear to have an inch of space between you. The sound of your bodies moving together, skin against skin, became a beautiful, intimate soundtrack as he pushed into you with a force that stole your breath. The way his eyes were glued to yours and how his arms caged you in, creating a safe yet electrifying cocoon, was another thing that you loved about him. He focused all of his attention on you at all times, it felt like you were the only thing in his world.

“Tell me I’m the only one, baby,” you whimpered, your voice cracking as his cock grazed that perfect, sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips.

His breath was hot and rough against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Oh, fuck, baby…fuck, yeah…you’re the only one,” he moaned, his voice low and strained with pleasure. “The. only. one. who. has. me. like. this.” his words were punctuated by the unwavering rhythm of his thrusts, each one powerful and deliberate, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Just like that, baby,” you whimpered. The way your walls clenched around him made his head fall to your shoulder, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper. “So good for me, angel,” he groaned, his voice turning into a low growl as he thrusted harder, his movements exact yet full of raw desperation. Every push and pull of his body against yours sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, your senses completely overwhelmed by him.

Another moan escaped your lips, louder this time, as his pace quickened. “Oh, oh…oh, fuck, Joey. I can’t…,” you cried out, your nails digging into his back, your entire body trembling beneath him.

“Yes, you can,” he rasped, his hand sliding down your body and gripping your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist to angle you even closer to him. The shift made his cock hit even deeper, and your cry of pleasure turned into a near scream as he drove into you relentlessly, chasing both of your releases.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gritted out, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips snapped against you with a rhythm that left no room to think–only to feel. “You’re mine, angel. All mine,”.

The way he claimed you, the way he adored you, held you, and explored you, the way his body pressed against yours so completely, was intoxicating. The sound of his deep groans, the slap of your bodies meeting, and the way his hand slid up your waist to cup your face was too much, and yet, not enough. “I’m so close, baby,” you whimpered, your legs shaking as you clung to him, overwhelmed by the mere passion in his voice.

“Let go for me,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours as his thrusts became harder, deeper, his movements rough yet perfectly attuned to your body. “I’ve got you, angel. Let go. I’m right here,”.

And with one final thrust, his body pressed against yours, the band in your belly shattered, your cries of pleasure filling the room as waves of satisfaction crashed over you. “Joe…oh my god! Joe!” you moaned, panting as the aftermath of your high vibrated throughout your body. “You feel…you feel so- so good, fuck. Joe,”.

Joe’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his release, his groans getting louder and more uneven in your ear. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his body tensing against yours. “Baby, fuck, I’m so close,” he groaned, his voice strained with need. But then, his hips faltered for just a moment as the realization hit him. “Shit…I forgot the condom,” he muttered breathlessly, his thrusts slowing slightly. “I’ll pull out, I swear–,”.

His words barely registered in your brain as they were drowned out by the heat building inside you and the idea that suddenly sparked in your mind. Your heart raced, but not from nerves–it was something else. A lightbulb moment. This could be the start of what you’d been wanting, what you’d been dreaming of for so long. This could be a way to have that conversation with him later…maybe even act on it before talking about it…

“No,” you murmured, your voice trembling but stable enough to catch his attention. “Don’t pull out, Joe. It’s okay,”.

Joe rarely ever came inside of you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was more so that back then, having a kid in college or while he was trying to make a name for himself in the NFL wasn’t exactly ideal. You both had sex like this a lot, raw and with no barriers, but he found other spots to push out his release other than being inside of you. So right now, when you said that you wanted him to come inside of you, he was slightly confused.

His eyes widened, his movements stuttering as he processed what you said. “Baby…you’re not on anything,” he said hesitantly, his forehead pressing against yours. There was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice, even though his body was trembling with need, his will hanging by a thread. “Are you sure?”.

You nodded, your hands sliding up his back to hold him closer, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “It’s okay, Joey,”.

Maybe he would take the hint? That you weren’t just saying this because you were too caught up in the lust to think straight, but that you actually wanted this…wanted more than this.

His breathing hitched, and for a moment, he looked as though he was going to argue. But the way you gazed up at him, your words full of love and comfort, completely untangled him. His hesitation melted away, replaced by an overwhelming desire and trust. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping back into rhythm, harder and more desperate this time. “You’re gonna kill me, baby…fuck, I can’t hold it,” he growled, his thrusts turning frantic as he buried himself deeper, chasing his release.

You moaned loudly, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling into pleasure once again. The thought of him spilling into you, of this moment potentially being the start of something new, pushed you over the edge. “Do it, Joey,” you urged breathlessly. “I want you to. Please. Give it to me, baby.”

With a choked groan, he finally let go, his body tensing as he gave in. “Oh, fuck,” he growled, his hips jerking erratically as he came inside you, his release hot and overwhelming as he pressed himself as deeply as he could, holding you tightly as he rode out his climax. His breaths were shaky as he came down, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Shit, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and full of disbelief. “I can’t believe we just…,”.

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your tone soft and reassuring. “I’m okay. You’re okay,”.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any doubt, but all he found was love and certainty. Slowly, a smile broke through his post-climax fog, and he leaned in to kiss you tenderly. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

“No, you are,” you smiled, leaning back in and dropping two kisses on his lips.

—

A little later, the two of you lay tangled together under the sheets. You both were a little too wrung out to do anything else, so you decided to stay like this. His hand slid up and down your side, his touch as usual, soft and comforting, but your mind was moving at the speed of light.

He hadn’t said a word.

You kind of expect him to bring it up, maybe even tease you about the heat of the moment, or tell you how he felt about it. Instead, he seemed so relaxed and at peace, especially with how his head was resting in the crook of your neck as if nothing unusual happened.

You felt the urge to say something, but how? You couldn’t just blurt it out, “That might get me pregnant and I want that, but do you want that?”. So, you decided to test the waters.

“That was… intense,” you mumbled, your voice laced with coolness as your fingers traced shapes on his bare back.

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, pressing a wet, lazy kiss to your shoulder. “You drive me fucking crazy, Y/N,”.

“I love him. God, I love him,” you thought to yourself, but your mind was still stuck on it. “I mean…we don’t usually…,” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint.

“We don’t usually what?” he asked while propping himself on his elbow to look at you, his tone giving away that he really was clueless.

Your cheeks felt like they turned red again as you hesitated to answer his question. You took a deep breath, “You know, we usually never…skip the condom,” you said, your voice soft as you searched his face for a reaction.

Joe blinked, and for a second you saw a spark behind his eyes, but then it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He shrugged slightly, “I guess we got caught up in the moment, huh?” he said casually, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your disappointment. He wasn’t getting it. Either that, or he wasn’t ready to go there, and you definitely did not want to push. Maybe now wasn’t the right time to bring it up?

“Yeah,” you murmured, forcing a smile as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. “Caught up in a moment,”.

He dropped another kiss on your lips and mumbled an ‘i love you’ before settling back beside you, his arm draping over your waist as his eyes fluttered shut. You stared up at the ceiling, your mind swirling with a million thoughts. “Maybe I should let it go for tonight. He must be tired,” you thought, letting out a breath as you relaxed against him.

But as you lay there, another idea formed. If your adorably clueless husband isn’t going to bring it up, maybe you’d start dropping hints–little comments here and there, planting the seed in his mind like he did inside of you. He was the smartest person you knew, but when it came to subtlety, he sometimes needed to help.

You smiled to yourself, already thinking of ideas on how to ease the idea into his mind. But for now, you let it go and allowed his steady breathing to soothe you to sleep.

A few days later – Bengals Bye Week Day 1

The living room was calm, the soft light of the TV cast a gentle glow over the room as the quiet pitter-patter of the rain added to the comforting ambiance. Joe was sitting next to you on the couch, one of his arms lazily resting around your shoulder as your legs were stretched out in front of him. You were as usual, curled up next to him, the large hoodie you stole from his closet hiding most of your body as a fluffy Bengals blanket covered you both to protect you from the cool winter air. Your eyes fell to the coffee table in front of you, half-empty pizza boxes and freshly popped popcorn scattered across the surface, a reminder of the cozy night you two were having today during night one of the Bengal’s Bye-Week.

The movie on the TV was a cheesy rom-com, clearly your choice since your husband would’ve picked and preferred some action movie that you would’ve been too lazy to focus on. Rom-coms were perfect for cozy nights because you didn’t really need to put all of your focus on what was happening. However, this time, you were glued to the screen. There was a little family moment playing right now–a dad chasing his toddler around the living room and swooping them into their arms as their laughter filled the room. It was a classic scene that had been done a million times before in the movies, but this time, something about it made your heart swell with a familiar ache.

You shifted slightly, reaching to the side table to grab your water glass to take a small sip, the dad’s laughter in the movie echoing through the room, and without thinking twice, you blurted, “You’d make a hot dad, you know that?”.

Your cheeks instantly heated up, “Oh, shit,” you quickly thought after you said that. “Where the hell did that come from? I thought I was easing him into this…talk about subtle”.

Joe, who had been scrolling through his camera roll for a few minutes to find a photo of a pair of shoes he wanted to show you, froze mid-swipe, his eyes darting to you and then to the TV screen. “W- what?” he sputtered, confused and dazed like a deer in headlights by what you had just said.

“Play it cool, Y/N. You said it, no going back now,”. You took a sip of the cool beverage, then laughed, “You good there, Burrow?” you teased, watching as his cheeks turned a shade of red you knew he didn’t like to admit. He always has that adorable blush on his face when you say something about his physique. He knew he was gifted in the looks department, but he was never one to say it out loud himself. Another reason for this blush was what you said after that.

The word dad.

“What did you just say?” he muttered, a playful twinkle in his eyes as the redness spread to his ears, not being able to believe what you just said.

You grinned, “I said, you’d make a hot dad. I mean, look at you. You’re already so good with kids and I bet you’d be the one to carry one around in a baby carrier, all rugged and sexy,”.

Joe’s brows furrowed as a smile threatened to tug at the corner of his lips. He leaned back against the couch, returning to the position he was in before, “You’re insane,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he laughed at your “joke”.

“Please,” you raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ve got major ‘dad energy’,”.

“Dad energy?” he snorted, the crinkles around his baby blues at full display, “I can’t believe you just said that,”. His hand traveled to your thigh underneath the cozy blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze that matched the tone of his voice despite the fact he was brushing off what you were saying as if it was a silly joke–which it wasn’t.

“Um, why not?” you asked innocently. “It’s a compliment, babe. You’d be the guy, the one who’s always there for his family. The fun, loving dad who’d give anything to make sure his kid knows they’re loved. That’s so hot,”.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds while his gaze lingered on you, the mood shifted as if he was processing something. “You really think that?” he asked, his voice quieter, the playful teasing gone.

You nodded, “I do. You have this…calm about you, you know? Like your life is so chaotic but no matter what, you make room for those little moments, the ones that matter most. You hardly get overwhelmed and manage to give everything your 110%,”.

There was a longer pause this time, the only sound in the room being the faint background noise of the movie. Finally, he let out a soft exhale, his eyes moving down to your lips for a moment before moving back to yours. “You’re making me blush,” he said, almost a little shyly.

“Good,” you teased, leaning in just enough so your noses brushed, “I’m not done yet,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your answer, “What, you going to tell me I look like I’d be good at changing diapers next?”.

You laughed, the nature of the conversation was serious but the little jokes and playfulness added a lighter touch to it. You leaned in a little closer so that your lips were just an inch from his, “You kidding?” you whispered, “I think you’d be amazing at everything, Joey. Not just dad stuff. Everything,”.

Joe’s breath hitched, and before he could say something, you kissed him softly, just enough to make your point clear. When you pulled back, his hands moved to the back of your neck to pull you back in, this time with more urgency. “Alright,” he mumbled against your lips. “You’ve got me now but don’t go giving me too many ideas, or I might start thinking you’re serious about this,”.

You grinned, feeling the heat between you both rise, particularly in your belly. “Who says I’m not serious?” you thought as you pushed your lips against his again.

Two days later - Bengals Thanksgiving Dinner

The air buzzed with energy as the dinner unfolded in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the room. Families mingled with players, and the mood was warm and festive. You had so much to be thankful for, but the thing you were most thankful for was the man beside you who hadn’t left your side since you got here.

Joe was his usual charming self, offering warm smiles and handshakes to everyone who approached. He was the star of the show as usual, but even in a crowded room, he had a way of making you feel like the only person in his world.

Joe loved you right.

Even when his life demanded so much from him, he never let you feel like you were anything less than his top priority. Whether he was drowning in the chaos of the football season or navigating the plethora of public appearances, he had a way of grounding you, making sure you knew you were the center of his galaxy.

He always paid attention, even when you thought he wasn’t. If his eyes were glued to game film, he’d still reach over and rest a hand on your leg, his thumb would be rubbing little circles as if he was saying ‘I’m here with you’. If he was caught up in a conversation, he’d make sure to check in with you through a quick glance or a wink, a silent acknowledgment that he was thinking of you.

Joe didn’t just love you; he made loving you feel like the easiest thing in the world.

If you were tired, he’d insist on carrying you to bed, no matter how much you resisted. If you were upset, he wouldn’t rest until he made you laugh again. And even on days he had nothing left to give, he’d still find a way to make you feel seen–a quick kiss on your forehead, a few ‘i love you’s’, or the way he’d hold you just a little tighter at night.

“You’re my everything,” he’d tell you, his voice steady and sure like it was the most obvious truth in the world. And you believed him. Because Joe had a way of showing his love in the little things, the quiet gestures that spoke louder than words ever could.

And tonight was another example. He was the center of attention and had everyone approaching him for conversations, oftentimes overlooking you. But he made sure to rope you into the conversation each time, to hold you by your hip and keep you against his chest, and to constantly keep his attention on you whenever he had a free moment.

Currently, you stood close to Joe as usual, your fingers loosely entwined with his as you both sipped on your drinks and soaked in the atmosphere. Not far from where you were, Evan McPherson sat on a plush couch, bouncing his baby girl on his knee. Merritt was all smiley and giggly, her tiny fists pumping in excitement as she watched the world around her.

“Having fun?” Joe murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You turned to him with a soft smile, “I am,” you smiled, your gaze lingering on his baby blues. “What about you?”.

His lips curved into a familiar, boyish grin that made your heart flutter every time. “When I’m with you? Always,” he said simply, though his sincerity shone through every word.

Before you could respond, your attention moved to Merritt when Evan leaned down, letting her waddle on her tiny, unstable feet toward Joe. “Looks like another girl has eyes for you, Joey,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with a grin.

Joe laughed softly, setting his drink on the table as he crouched down to meet her at eye level. “Hey there, little lady,” he said gently, his voice soft in a way that melted your heart instantly. He reached out a hand, and instantly, her tiny fingers latched onto his index finger, gripping it tightly like it was the most important thing in the world.

Your eyes lit up with a kind of sparkle that said a thousand words, and your heart swelled with warmth at the sigh of Joe, utterly fascinated by the innocent gesture. “Wow, she’s got quite the grip,” Joe said, his eyes twinkling as he gave her hand a little shake, earning a blubbering laugh from the little baby. “She been spending time in the receiver room?” he joked.

Evan laughed, “Ja’marr better watch out,”.

You crouched down to where Joe was, leaning closer so that your words were just for him, “Look,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “She knows you’ve got dad vibes,”.

Hello, hint number two.

Joe turned to you, both eyebrows raised in surprise as a blush crept up on his face, “Dad vibes?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your eyes darting between him and the baby still clutching his finger. “She can sense it. It’s a thing, you know,” you nodded, trying to sound credible so that another hint would be dropped.

Joe chuckled, shaking his head but not pulling his hand from Merritts. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his eyes filled with a kind of soft love that you’d never seen before.

Was this the look he’d have in his eyes when his own baby would be holding his finger like that?

“Oh my god. Please. PLEASE,” you thought to yourself, feeling an overwhelming amount of fluffy thoughts fill your mind. Would his baby cling to his finger like that while they walked? Would his baby laugh like that at his adorable faces and jokes? Would his baby look at their daddy with that same look of love?

You were so far gone thinking about Joe and your future baby that you didn’t even realize that you were mumbling lyrics to the song you’d heard earlier on the drive over to the event. “You make me wanna make you fall in love…,”.

It was exactly how you felt watching Joe. He made you want everything–a family, a future, a life filled with moments like these.

Joe glanced over at you, catching the dreamy look in your eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice quiet and curious.

“Hmm?” you blinked, realizing you’d been caught humming.

“You were singing something,” he said, his lips shifting into that little half-smile that always made your knees weak.

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice was soft and a little shy, “It’s just a song. Made me think of you,”.

His smile widened as he leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’ve got that look again,” he murmured.

“What look?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as he smirked.

“The one where you’re plotting something,” he teased. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”.

You shook your head, holding back a grin. “Nothing,” you said, your voice light but your heart full. “Anyway, I know what I’m talking about,” you teased, giving him a cheeky grin. “She can feel the vibes,”.

His attention shifted back to Merritt, who had started babbling as if she was trying to have a full-blown conversation with him. And Joe being the sweetheart he is, started playing along by nodding and murmuring things that made her giggle even harder. Watching him like this, so natural and soft, made you want to scream. The image of him holding your baby like this flickered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had the same image and feeling tugged at his heart.

After conversing with Joe, Merritt was eventually scooped up by Evan, and she whined in protest as her grip on Joe’s finger was forced loose. “Sorry, bud. Looks like you’ve got competition,” Joe joked, earning another giggle from Merritt.

“She’ll stop when I bribe her with a slice of the pumpkin pie that Y/N brought,” Evan smiled, glancing back as he heard Gracie call out for him. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Husband duties call,” he waved before walking back to his wife.

Joe straightened up, brushing off his knees as he turned back to you, “Dad vibes, huh?” he said again, this time with a little smirk.

You shrugged, trying to keep it cool despite the butterflies in your belly. “Just saying. She didn’t grab my finger like that,”.

Joe laughed, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch,” he teased, a softness in his voice but there was also a flicker of something unspoken lingering between you.

Maybe, just maybe…the seeds had started to plant in his mind.

The next night - Home

You both lay intertwined in the afterglow of your highs, his body pressed close against yours as you watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You both were still trying to catch your breath, a comfortable silence developing between you. You turned your head up to look at him, your lips morphing into a teasing smile as you traced a finger along his chest. “Mm, I like the way you fit,” you lazily murmured the sexual innuendo, your voice soft and teasing as you slid your fingers down his chest.

Joe raised an eyebrow, intrigued by what you were talking about. “Fit, huh?” he chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk. “I could say the same about you, babe. You were made for me,”.

You shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in to kiss him. “I mean, it’s not like I have to tell your hot ass a thing,” you said between kisses, “Yeah, you just get it,” you nodded.

Joe’s eyes darkened with a familiar hunger, the kind that always seemed to fire up when you whispered little things like that. “Get what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy from the countless times he groaned and moaned your name just a few minutes ago.

You trailed your hand over his body, your touch slow, purposeful, as you let the words fall from your lips. “The whole package, babe,” you smirked, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so hot and you know it and you have the full package–the brains, the looks, the athletic ability, the sweetness. Damn, I like the way you fit, god bless your dad’s genetics,”.

He laughed again, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a twinkle that told you he was just as aware of the subtle comment as you were. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you forward for another kiss. “I guess your dad did something right, too,” he teased, laughing at your silly comments, his lips brushing over yours as he moved to kiss your jawline.

“I’m serious, Joey,” you said as he pressed light kisses around your face. “You’re so sexy and I just…ugh. It hurts,” you whined.

He pulled his face up from your neck, a confused grin on his face, “...You..alright?” he carefully asked.

“More than alright,” you breathed out with an almost drunken lovesick look on your face. “I’m just so in love with you,”.

Joe smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy lips, “And I’m just sooooo in love with you too, wifey. More than I can ever put into words or physically show. You’re the best thing in my life and fuck, I’m obsessed with every part of you,”.

"You know,” you murmured, your lips curling into a soft smile as you gazed up at him. “I think I really like this version of you,”.

His brow arched, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah? And what version is that?”.

“This one,” you said, your fingers gliding down to brush his jawline. “The one who looks at me like I hung the stars. The one who can’t stop touching me, even when he’s half-asleep,”.

Joe chuckled, his warm laughter grumbling against your chest as he pulled you closer. “Can you blame me? Look at what I get to wake up to every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make it way too easy to fall for you all over again,”.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. His lips, once again, moved down to your cheek, then your jaw, planting soft, lingering kisses that made your skin tingle.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” you teased, your voice light and playful as you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Only for you, angel,” he replied, his lips now hovering just above yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. He kissed you then, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you ended and he began. When he finally pulled back, his hand moved to rest on your lower belly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the soft skin there. The touch made your breath hitch slightly, a quiet spark of excitement lighting up inside you because of where his hand was.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection as you reached up to brush a stray curl from his face.

Joe’s smile softened, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You deserve to be spoiled,” he said simply, his tone full of confidence.

Your heart swelled, and before you could think twice, you let the words slip out, casual and subtle. “Well, you better not forget that when you’re the future father of my children,”.

Joe froze for a moment, his hand stilling on your stomach as his eyes widened slightly. “What’d you say?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

You smiled, pretending like nothing happened as you leaned up to kiss his jawline. “I said you’re good at spoiling me,” you replied, your tone light and innocent, as if you hadn’t just dropped a hint that made your heart race.

Joe narrowed his eyes playfully, clearly catching the change in your tone but deciding not to push it. Instead, he smirked, his lips twisting into that familiar mischievous grin that always made your stomach flip. “Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I plan to keep doing it. Forever,”.

And as his kisses deepened and his hands roamed, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Another subtle hint was planted and there were many more to come.

You wondered if he was starting to catch on…It’s not like you had been giving the dad-and-baby talk a break…

A few nights later - Dinner at Home

The faint sounds of the music filled the kitchen as you and Joe sat at the table you’d set up for dinner. Plates of half-finished food sat between you, but the focus wasn’t on eating anymore. It was on the way Joe kept leaning closer to you, stealing kisses between bites, and the way his adorable laugh filled the air every time you tried to swat him away.

You’d set your playlist to shuffle earlier, but when Sabrina Carpenter’s “Juno” started to play, you couldn’t help but grin. “Perfect timing for another hint,” you thought to yourself. The beat was light and playful, the melody so addictive it became hard for you to sit in your seat. You quickly got up from your chair and grabbed your untouched spoon to use as a microphone, twirling around the kitchen as you mouthed the words to yourself while you watched Joe. He was now sipping on his drink and watching you with curiosity, but also amused at the pop-star-like show you were putting on.

“I know you want my touch for life, If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno. You know I just might let you lock me down tonight. One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby. You make me wanna make you fall in love,” you sang, pointing straight to Joe as your beautiful voice echoed through the house.

Joe’s eyebrows shot up, his form pausing mid-air as a slow, knowing smirk face spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, comfortably crossing his arms, and his baby blues sparked with wonder. “Oh, really?” he said, his tone laced with intrigue. “You might let me make you Juno, huh?”.

You blinked innocently, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away, “It’s just a song,” you replied casually.

“Mmhm,” he nodded slowly, clearly not convinced. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table as his grin widened. “Seems like a pretty specific song to sing along to while staring right at me, don’t you think?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool even as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. “It’s a catchy song, Joey. Don’t flatter yourself,” you said while slipping back into your seat.

“Oh, I’m flattered,” he teased, his smirk turning devilish as he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower. “So, what’s the deal, huh? You trying to tell me something?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shoved a piece of bread into your mouth to avoid answering. But Joe wasn’t letting it go. He reached out, gently tugging your hand away from your mouth, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“Come on, angel,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You don’t just drop a line like that without explaining yourself,”.

Your cheeks burned as you finally met his gaze, the warmth in his expression melting your resolve. “Maybe I just like the idea,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joe raised an eyebrow at your confession. “The idea, huh?” he repeated, his hand traveling down to your thigh. “And what idea is that, babe?”.

You smirked, leaning in just enough for your lips to brush against his ear, your voice a soft, sultry whisper. “Guess you’ll have to keep loving me right to find out,” you teased, pulling back with a wink that left him grinning.

The next morning

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as you sat on the counter, scrolling through the notifications on your phone while Joe leaned against the kitchen island, sipping his post-workout smoothie. He had just come out from the gym, his hair still damp from his quick rinse-off, and wearing one of those fitted shirts that hugged his chest and shoulders just right. The sight of him standing there, effortlessly attractive and completely unaware of how sexy he looked, made you feel lightheaded.

“Literally fuck me. He looks so sexy and daddy right now,” you thought to yourself, feeling your panties dampen at the thoughts filling your head. “I swear to god, he better get these hints fast. I’m so ready to be the mother of his beautiful children,”.

Your staring wasn’t exactly…unnoticeable either. You were practically drooling at him when he looked up from his smoothie. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked, his brow rising as he questioned your motive.

You smirked, holding your phone up and sneakily snapping a photo of him before he could notice, “No reason,” you replied, trying to hide your true feelings by sounding soft.

Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head, wearing an almost bashful expression; however, that didn't stop you from sending the photo of the man who was hotter than the sun to your group chat.

you: guys…tell me this man isn’t giving “sexy future dad vibes” right now.

maya: girl, STOP. he looks like he’d change diapers and still have the energy to fix the sink or something.

lacy: i swear he’s the type to pull out the “dad voice” for bedtime stories and have the kids begging for more.

emma: not even kidding, he’d probably rock a baby carrier like a runway model. wait..he basically is after that vogue thing. damn, y/n…you really got the whole package with joe

you: stoppppp, i’m blushing.

lacy: oh, YOU’RE blushing? meanwhile, we’re all over here swooning by just thinking about little joe and y/n babies

maya: dead serious, if you don’t have his baby, i’m applying for the job (im kidding. james would kill me)

emma: same. like, does he have a brother?

you: calm downnn. he’s mine.

lacy: we know. we’re just living vicariously through you.

emma: no joke, though. aand i bet he’s already thought about it…you should ask him

maya: yeah, casually drop it during pillow talk. like, “hey babe, how do you feel about onesies?”

lacy: LMAO. or say, “you’d look so hot holding our baby. thoughts?”

you: …well, I may or may not have *just* said something like that a few nights ago

maya: OMG, WHAT DID HE SAY?

you: i acted like i didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask…just joey being beautifully clueless as usual ;)

emma: LOL. iconic.

lacy: he’s probably in the bathroom googling “how to be the hottest dad alive” right now

maya: he’s already got that title on lock, y/n you just gotta make it official

you: you guys are insane. but also not wrong

lacy: we live to hype you up. now go make him earn that sexy future dad title

emma: and then report back. details, queen. detailssss

maya: high five for locking that down, y/n :) you seriously won at life and just know im waiting for the pregnancy reveal…get to it.

lacy: mhm. i want to be called auntie lacy NOWW

You couldn’t control your laughter, the sound vibrating through your chest and bubbling out of you in uncontrollable waves as you read your friends’ ridiculous–yet accurate–texts. Eventually, Joe noticed your behavior as it was pretty hard to ignore. “What’s so funny?” he asked as he set his smoothie down, then slowly approached you.

“Nothing!” you chirped, holding your phone to your chest to hide the incriminating messages.

“Oh, it’s something,” he replied, his hands landing on either side of you on the counter to cage you in. He leaned in close, his hot breath hitting your lips as he mumbled, “Come on, angel. Spill,”.

You were still giggling at the situation, practically loopy from all the laughing and teasing, which prompted you to give in. “Fine, I may have told my friends that you’d look hot holding a baby…and that you give off sexy future dad vibes. There also may or may not be a photo of you involved,”.

Joe froze for a second, then leaned back and blinked at you in disbelief. “You sent that…to your friends?”.

“Hey! They agreed with me,” you defended, holding up your phone to show him the texts.

He scrolled through the text thread, his ears getting redder and redder with each tease from your friends. Once he reached the end, his jaw was on the floor and it almost looked as if he was fighting a smile. “Seriously?”.

“What?” you grinned unapologetically. “It’s true!”.

He let out a bashful whine, sliding a hand down his face though the playful twinkle in his eyes showed you he was enjoying this. “You objectified me to your friends,”.

You laughed, “Sorry if you feel objectified,” while sliding your hands to his chest. “But I mean…come on. Look at you,” you added with a kiss to his jaw. “It’s the truth, Joey. Can’t help myself. Hormones are high,”.

He let out a throaty laugh, shaking his head, “Hormones, huh?” his hands slipping to your waist as your legs opened to accommodate his large body. “You know…I could do something about that,”.

Your breath hitched as you felt his crotch against yours, another rush of heat radiating through your body, “Could you now?” you challenged as your fingers played with his shirt.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his lips brushing your ear before he dropped a soft kiss to the corner. “But first,” he said, suddenly pulling away and raising his hand with a goofy smile. “Your friends high-fived you for this…Where the hell is mine? I think I deserve to be recognized for locking down the sexy, breathtakingly gorgeous, angelic woman in front of me,”.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you looked at him with that look again–the dreamy one that spoke a thousand words. “I love you,” you breathed out without realizing it because you were so caught up in his ocean-blue eyes to the point where it felt like everything around you had faded away.

He chuckled, “I love you a lot more,” while earning a high five from you.

“There. Happy now?” you said while batting your lashes at him.

“Mmm. Not yet,” he replied, his grin turning devilish as he quickly hooked his strong arm around your waist and lifted you off the counter, then spinning you around until your back pressed against the cool surface of the island. “But I’ve got some ideas on how to fix that,” he mumbled, his voice laced with heat.

“Joe,” you breathlessly whispered, feeling the cool countertop against your back but all you could focus on was his tight grip on your waist, the warmth of his body, and the heated look in his eyes.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Me?” you teased breathlessly, your fingers curling into his shirt to pull him back in. “You’re the one that has his hormonal wife sprawled out on the kitchen counter right now. Who knows what you’re about to do,”.

Joe chuckled, his lips grazing your jawline as he kissed his way down to your neck. “You started it, babe,” he muttered against you, his teeth nipping the soft skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. “And now I’m gonna finish it,”. His hands slid down to your thighs, each squeeze and scratch drawing a gasp from your lips, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he settled between them. His lips found yours again, this time more ravenous, more demanding, as his hands roamed over your body.

“Joe,” you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as his lips moved lower, trailing kisses down your throat and over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to grip your hips again, his thumbs pressing into your skin.

“You,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your hips arching toward him as heat pooled in your belly. “I want you,”.

That was all the encouragement he needed. In a blur of movement, your clothes were tossed, his shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. The cool air hit your skin, but Joe’s heated gaze and the way his hands stroked your body made you forget everything else. He trailed kisses down your stomach, his lips lingering for a moment as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider. His mouth met yours again as he positioned himself, the thick tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Joey, please,”.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice laced with desire as he pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

A gasp escaped you, your hands clutching his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts deep and calculated. The cool surface of the island under you countered deliciously with the heat of his body as he set a tempo that had you melting beneath him.“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen. “You feel so good,”.

“Joe,” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit just the right spot, over and over, pulling a string of frantic moans from your lips. “Oh. My. God,”.

His hands moved to your hips again, holding you firmly in place as he pounded into you, his pace showing no sign of mercy. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through your tired body, building higher and higher until you felt like you might shatter. “So tight,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear as he pushed himself deeper. “So fucking perfect for me,”.

Normally you’d be fully against doing this in the kitchen, especially this bright and early in the morning. But you weren’t lying when you said that the hormones were high. He looked like an absolute god and you just wanted him to take you to heaven right then and there. He made you so insatiable, losing all forms of decency and innocence.

And you fucking loved it.

He moaned again, his hips snapping harder and harder into your soaking core, “I’m so…so close,” he breathed out, his voice strained from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. His hand slipped between your sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit as he circled the bundle of nerves with practiced ease.

“Fuck, Joe. Oh…fuck!” you screamed, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as your body arched into his. Your walls clenched his thick cock, causing a guttural moan from his lips as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his back for support.

The sight of you reaching your high under him, the way your body shook, and the sound of his name on your lips, was all it took to send him over the edge after you.

“On me, Joey,” you whispered, your voice laced with need. “I want to see it, on me. Mark your territory,”.

The raw need in your voice sent a jolt of electricity through him, his jaw clenching as he groaned deeply. “Fuck..you drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling out at the last second, his hand wrapping around himself, his motions desperate and fast.

And with a final moan, he gave in, his release spilling out in thick, hot streams across your soft belly, painting your skin and claiming you as you asked. “Oh…,” you moaned at the sight of his pearly cum spilled out on your belly. The slickness against your skin made you hiss, and the sight of it pushed you into a whole other world.

His body trembled with the force of his release, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he caught his breath. "Holy shit, babe. I can't get enough of you," he panted as you slowly rubbed his back to help him down from his high.

"Me too, Joey," you lazily chuckled, panting as you stared up at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of what felt like being brought to the gates of heaven.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with the sounds of labored breaths, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and satisfaction. Joe used his other hand to reach for a towel nearby as his breathing steadied out, and then he carefully cleaned you up.

His touch was so soft and gentle, each wipe of the towel over your skin was filled with care and attention, and it made your heart explode. Watching him like this, so attentive and loving even after the dirtiest moments, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of satisfaction.

You really deserved to be high-fived for locking him down.

“Future dad vibes,” you teased under your breath.

“Hm?” he hummed, brows furrowed as he glanced up at you.

“Ohhh, nothing,” you sang, grinning mischievously.

His eyes narrowed in suspicious, placing the towel to the side and leaning over you again. His eyes pinned you with a soft, curious look. “You’ve got that look in your eyes again,” he said. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”.

“Just the usual thoughts,” you smiled, “Like how lucky I am to have you,”.

His face softened, his hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, “I’m the lucky one, mama,” he said, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as tender as it was intoxicating.

Mama?

“Oh my god? Is he catching on?” you thought to yourself as you smiled into the kiss. You quickly pulled away, “Did you just…call me mama?” you asked, trying to keep your cool as you stared into his captivating eyes.

Joe leaned back, a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “Uhhh…maybe?” he said, his voice a little casual but also a little…nervous? “I don’t know…it just felt right,”.

It’s a sign. A sign from the universe.

He had to be catching on…right?

You laughed softly, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned up to him. “Well, it’s cute,”.

“Cute, huh?” he murmured, pulling you closer. “You like it, mama. I can tell,”.

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname again. The thought of how close you were to that becoming a reality filled your body with the most extraordinary feeling. “...Maybe,” you responded with that dreamy look in your eyes again.

A week later - Friday Night

The two of you were sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by takeout containers and half-empty bottles of sparkling water. Today was a rest day for Joe as he was playing Monday Night Football this week, so you decided to take it easy and have a little date night at home. Back in college, a lot of your date nights looked like this because you both preferred comfort over glitz and glamor. You just needed each other, some good takeout, and an entertaining movie, and you were set.

You two did simplicity better than any other couple. For you, the extravagant dates and expensive gifts didn’t matter nearly as much as the way Joe made you laugh with his dry humor, how he’d shower you with kisses after a long day, and just those little moments your hopelessly romantic heart craved.

The way he looked at you right now, all cozy on the floor, served as a reminder of how lucky you were to have built a life where you could just be.

Joe had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head resting comfortably on his chest as you both were settled on the plush rug, laughing over another silly rom-com you’d picked out. The soft hum of the TV was barely audible over the few crunches of takeout and the shared laughter between you two. He had one hand lazily reaching for another spring roll, while the other gently ran up and down your arm, his thumb brushing your skin in slow strokes. “I don’t know why we ever do anything else,” Joe murmured with a lazy smile, taking another bite of his food before glancing at you. His eyes were warm like he’d never want to be anywhere else in the world but here, with you. “This is perfect”.

You grinned, stretching out next to him and letting your fingers trace the outline of his chest through his soft, Bengals t-shirt. “I don’t know either,” you teased, your voice light and playful. “I could definitely get used to this for, like, forever,”.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he caught your gaze. “Forever, huh?” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as his lips brushed softly over your temple. “You sayin’ you’d be okay with being stuck with me for the rest of your life?”.

You giggled, the sound soft and genuine, as you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I mean, you did already put the ring on my finger and say your vows at the altar….but yeah,” you smiled. “Just you, me, some food, and our couch... maybe some babies one day,”.

Here we go. Final hint. This has to work.

You had been dropping hints almost every day for the past week and a half, there was no way he was that oblivious, right? As each day passed, you got more and more restless. You just wanted him to get what you were implying and make it happen. It was that simple.

You wanted him to make you Juno.

It may have just been a cute little song you had been obsessed with lately, but Sabrina really spoke to your heart with every lyric. The way the song casually danced around love, intimacy, infatuation, and that perfect type of connection–it made you think about your own future, what it could be, and how, deep down, you felt ready. You were already so in love with Joe, and that love was only growing stronger. The thought of starting a family, of being his partner in something even more beautiful, was controlling all your thoughts.

Joe’s hand paused on your arm for a second, and you could feel the shift in his energy. His gaze, once playful, turned thoughtful as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “You’ve been talking about that a lot lately,” he murmured, a hint of something deeper in his voice. “Having babies?”.

“Oh my god,” you thought, your heart racing in your chest. This was it. He was finally catching on.

You bit your lip, feeling nervous but trying to keep your cool. “Maybe,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. Your voice suddenly became more stable as you continued, “I think about it a lot. About us...and a future,” you paused, watching his reaction. “You, me, and…a little one,”.

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in that comforting way he always did when he was about to say something important. “I think about it too,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. “I think I’ve always wanted that. Wanted to be a father. With you,”.

“Oh my GOD,” the voice in your head was screaming with excitement.

He wanted it too.

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the honesty in his voice. He continued, his eyes locking with yours, the gravity there too clear to ignore. “I watch the way you are with kids. The way your vibrant laugh fills up the room when you’re spinning my niece around at a family gathering. The way your whole face lights up when a baby looks at you and waves,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I see how natural you are, how much love you give to them, and it just...makes me want that. I want to give that to you, to build that with you,”.

A warm flush crept across your cheeks, but your heart swelled with tenderness. He wasn’t just saying these words–he was feeling them, and it made everything feel even more real.

He sighed softly, his gaze softening as he spoke again, his voice heavy with something deeper now. “I’ve always wanted this, but I didn’t want to pressure you. I didn’t want you to feel like I was rushing you into something before you were ready. But I see the way you look at them, and I can’t ignore it. It’s like…everything inside me knows that you’re the one. The woman of my dreams. My wife, obviously, since I married you,” he said with a laugh, earning one from you too. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never wanted anything more than to be a father with you by my side,”.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, and you were overwhelmed by the love and sincerity in his voice. He wanted this with you, too. He didn’t just want to create a family with anyone; he wanted to create it with you. You rested your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Joe,” you whispered, “I want it, too. More than anything,”.

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “Your hints were definitely hinting,” he said with a kiss to your cheek.

You chuckled softly, wiping away the tears that had started to fall down your cheeks. Joe’s easy laugh made you feel safe, loved, and seen in a way that only he could. The weight of the moment was still heavy, but now it felt full of hope, not pressure.

“You caught on, huh?” you teased, your voice still a little shaky with emotion.

“How could I not? I think what did it was that night when you sang Juno and pointed right at me, you had that dreamy look in your eyes,”.

You beamed with excitement, “Imagine a mini version of you running around–blonde curls, big blue eyes, tiny cleats. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t be adorable,”.

Joe paused, “A mini version of me?”.

You nodded enthusiastically. “One of you is cute, but two, though? Give it to me babyyyy. Game over. The world wouldn’t be ready for a mini Joey B. I honestly think I’d give birth to your twin,”.

Joe chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch with a smirk. “You’ve really thought this through, huh? Even the fact that we’ll have a boy first?”.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, leaning closer, your hand resting on his thigh again. “I mean, you’d be the fun, cool dad, teaching him how to throw a perfect spiral. All his friends would be so jealous because his daddy and coach is THE Joe Burrow. And me? I’d be the mom who packs the best snacks for football practice and wins everyone over with my charm. Total dream team,”.

Joe let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”.

“And you love it,” you shot back, tipping your head with a grin.

He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I do,” he said simply, his voice dropping into that low, serious tone that always sent shivers down your spine. “And you know what?”

“What?” you asked, your heart suddenly thumping as he leaned closer.

“I think you might be onto something,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Two of me? Could be kind of fun,”.

Your breath hitched, your hands moving to his shoulders as his lips captured yours in a kiss that made your whole body feel lightweight. He deepened the kiss, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, his hands settling on your waist. As you broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes glistening with a mix of naughtiness and love. “But you know,” he added, his voice teasing now, “Two of you wouldn’t be so bad either. Imagine how bossy and adorable that kid would be,”.

You gasped in mock offense, smacking his chest. “Excuse me! I’m not bossy–I’m assertive. I always get everything done just the way I want, and that, my gorgeous lover, is a talent everyone wants to have,”.

Joe laughed, pulling you closer. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” he dragged out. "But if we’re really doing this…like really doing this right now. I guess we better get started,”.

Your cheeks blushed as his hands tightened on your waist, his lips trailing down your neck. “Oh, you’re serious now?” you teased, though your voice lingered with excitement.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression soft but full of determination. “Completely fucking serious,” he said. “You ready for two of us?”.

Your answer came without hesitation, your lips finding his again as you whispered, “More than ready,”.

—

The house was still, the air filled with the quiet buzz of the night, interrupted only by the sound of Joe’s breathing and the soft creak of the floorboards beneath him. He carried you through the house as if you were weightless, his arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, your body snuggled against his warmth. He moved slowly, taking his time to bring you to the bedroom as if he was savoring every second, every beat of your hearts in sync.

When he placed you onto the bed, it felt like the world had slowed, almost stopped. He hovered above you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his gaze heavy with desire but also a tenderness that took your breath away. His lips pressed against your skin, soft at first, leaving a trail of warmth across your collarbone as he kissed his way down your neck. Each touch, each press of his lips, felt like a slow fire building inside you, the heat of his mouth sending shivers spiraling through your body.

His hands traced over your skin, following the curve of your waist before settling on your hips, pulling you closer. Everything felt like a blur and before you knew it, you both were completely bare, physically and emotionally.

His voice, was deep and soft, as he spoke against your skin. "You know, baby, if we're really going for two of me…," His words were teasing, but there was a sweetness in them, an undeniable affection. "We're going to need to take this slow. I want to feel every inch of you,".

You shivered at his words, the sensation of his breath against your neck leaving you with a rush of desire. Your fingers slid up his back, feeling the tight muscles under his skin, every inch of him hard and firm as he braced himself above you. "You think I can’t keep up?" you teased softly, your voice a little breathless from the intensity of his touch.

Joe’s lips curved into a smirk as he pulled back to look into your eyes. His blue eyes darkened as he gazed at you with such intensity it made your heart race. “Oh, I know you can,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “But I’m not in a rush. We’re going to take our time. I want to make sure you feel everything,”.

He lowered his body again, pressing his chest against yours, his lips finding yours in a slow, soft kiss that deepened as he slowly sank into you. Every movement, every brush of his lips was purposeful, as if he was trying to tell you everything he felt with each touch, each kiss. His body moved over yours like water, slowly and fluidly as his hands slid to your hips, fingertips digging in, pulling you closer as his lips trailed down to your neck, biting softly. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against your ear. “So perfect, baby. I’m going to give you everything,”.

Joe’s hand slid between your bodies, pulling you closer as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck. “I want to hear you, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and full of desire. “Tell me how much you want me,”.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers teased you with slow, deliberate strokes. Your body arched into his touch, desperate for more, your nails lightly dragging down his back. “I want you,” you breathed, your voice shaky, filled with need. “I want all of you, Joe. Please,”.

He groaned in response, pressing his body closer to yours as his lips captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His movements grew more urgent, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust deeper and slower, filling you completely. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, but all you wanted was more, to feel him even closer. “God, you feel so good,” Joe whispered between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect. I’m going to take care of you, baby. Make you feel so good,”.

His rhythm was steady and deep at first, savoring every moment, each thrust building slowly as his muscles flexed with every movement. The heat between you two was growing, his breath becoming heavier as he pressed you closer, meeting your body with more urgency. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you to meet his every thrust. “I can’t get enough of you. You feel incredible, baby.”

His cock grazed over your sweet spot, each push and pull causing gasps to leave your lips. “Oh, Joe…fuck…fuck me,” you moaned.

Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, your hands tracing his back, feeling every muscle ripple with each thrust. His pace picked up, but he kept the rhythm slow, savoring the moment, his eyes dark with desire but soft with affection. “You’re going to be so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of awe as he kissed you again. “I can’t wait to see you carrying my baby. I’ll give you everything, Y/N. Everything,”.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, your body trembling with the intensity. “Joe…I-...you feel so good. I love you, I love you so much,” you whimpered, your brain clouded with lust and love for the man above you. He shifted his position, his hands pushing your legs further apart as he deepened each thrust, his rhythm slow but powerful, pushing you to the edge with every motion. “You feel amazing…fuck- I love you,” he panted, his voice strained.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whined, feeling his large hand on your belly.

“I know, baby. I know,” he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he continued to pound into your slick core. With each movement, he drove deeper, his body moving in sync with yours, filling you completely. His hands traced every curve of your body, his lips whispering more praise, more sweet words. “You’re so perfect. So perfect for me, baby. Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low with hunger. “Tell me you want this,”.

“Yes,” you gasped, your body shaking beneath him, the pressure building inside you. “Yes, I’m yours. All yours, Joe,”.

His pace grew faster, more urgent, his body shaking with the effort to hold back as he neared his high. “Take it all, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with emotion. “Take all of me,”.

With one final deep thrust, he jerked, his body trembling as he buried himself deep inside you. The thick band in your stomach snapped at the same time as his hot seed spurted into your core, coating your walls. His grip on your hips tightened as he whispered your name, his voice full of love, desire, and a promise that lingered in the air between you two.

—

A little while later

“You think we did it?” you asked, your voice soft, yet a playful interest lingered in your tone.

Joe chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating against your cheek as you lay in his arms. The sound was like a secret melody that only you two shared. He let his fingers glide through your hair, the gentle touch sending a calm warmth through your body. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, his voice low, teasing, yet laced with affection. “But just in case… I wouldn’t mind practicing a few more times…you know…for the sake of our little team,”.

You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you, full of joy and love. You shifted your head up slightly to look at him, catching the look in his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re eager for two of you?” you teased, a sly smile forming on your lips.

Joe tilted his head, his grin growing wider, and you saw the admiration flicker in his eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. “If they’re anything like you, how could I not be?” his voice was sincere, his words filled with warmth and something deeper, a promise that made your pulse quicken just a little.

The simple, genuine way he looked at you sent a wave of love rushing over you, and before you even realized it, your fingers were threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was soft, lingering, as if you both were savoring the sweetness of this moment, the quiet intimacy between you. “Good answer, Burrow,” you murmured against his lips, your heart gushing with affection. “Let’s see if you can keep up this energy, though,”.

His grin widened, and there was a glimmer of playful challenge in his eyes as he shifted, his strong hands finding their place on your waist. Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, the sudden shift leaving you breathless, a shock of ecstasy rushing through you. His lips found yours again in an instant, the kiss more passionate, more demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You could feel his heat, his body pressing against yours, and it sent a wave of excitement rushing through you, making everything else fade away. “Oh, don’t worry, babe,” Joe whispered between kisses, “I’ve got plenty left in the tank.”

The way he said it, the promise in his voice, made your heart race again. Everything around you faded as the moment pulled between you–soft and full of meaning. His hands slid down your body, finding your hips, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to leave. The warmth of his body, the softness of his touch, and the way you fit together perfectly made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

As he held you, the thought of what could come next–the idea of him being the father of your children–filled you with quiet excitement. This wasn’t just a brief moment. This was the beginning of something real, something you couldn’t wait to experience with him. The thought of carrying his child, of building a life together, made everything feel even more intimate, even more meaningful. You both knew this was only the start of what was to come, and that thought alone made everything feel even more precious.

And he wanted it just as bad as you.

5 Months Later

Five months later, you and Joe found yourselves navigating the world of baby shopping–something you’d never quite imagined would be this overwhelming, but here you were, standing in the middle of a store that seemed to have every possible baby item under the sun. The shelves were stacked with tiny clothes, soft toys, cribs, diapers, bottles, pacifiers, and honestly, you were starting to lose track. Your baby bump was prominent now, a constant reminder that your life was about to get a whole lot more chaotic–and you couldn’t wait.

Joe, of course, was hilariously lost in the sea of options. He stood in front of a shelf of baby pacifiers, holding up two identical ones, squinting at them as if they were the most complicated decision of his life. “Babe, I swear…they look exactly the same. Why are there so many of these?” Joe muttered, a confused frown crossing his face. “What’s the difference between a giraffe pacifier and a…regular one? Are these for actual babies or are they just toys?”.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of him, standing there like a man on the brink of a breakdown. “Joey, they’re just pacifiers, it’s not that deep,”. You moved over and picked up the giraffe one he was holding, smiling as you handed it to him. “This one has a cute giraffe on it. Baby Burrow is going to love it,”.

He made a dramatic face, clearly trying to comprehend how pacifiers were even a thing in the first place. “Okay, but like…why so many giraffes? Can’t we just stick with one? There are a hundred versions of the same thing in here,”.

You laughed and stepped closer to him, your hand resting on your growing belly. “Welcome to parenthood, babe. The options never end,”.

Joe stared at the shelves again, now starting to feel like he might have made a huge mistake agreeing to this shopping trip. “This is… way harder than any game-winning play,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he scanned the baby aisles. “I don’t even know where to start. Look at all this stuff. Baby clothes, diapers, wipes–combo wipes–isn’t one pack enough?”.

“I can’t believe you’re comparing diapers to football plays,” you teased, giving him a playful eye roll. “But I’m starting to see it now..you’re overwhelmed. I knew this was going to happen,”.

He finally turned to you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “So, this is what you meant by making you Juno, huh?” his voice had a light, teasing edge, and you could see the twinkle in his eye as he tried to make sense of the madness.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him for a second. A slow smile spread across your face as you realized that, yes, this was your life now–the pregnancy, the baby stuff, the chaos–and it felt absolutely right. You walked over to him, shaking your head with a smile. “Exactly. You loved me right and I let you make me Juno. Congratulations,”.

Joe’s grin only grew wider as he took a step closer to you, his arms slipping around your waist and his hand resting on your bump. “Well, if I’m the cause of this, I guess that makes me the one who has to do all the heavy lifting when it comes to baby gear, huh?” he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hide his playfulness behind mock seriousness.

“Oh, you better believe it,” you said, holding your belly with one hand while you wrapped the other around his neck. “That means carrying all the baby stuff from the car to the house. You ready for that, Burrow?”.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on an overly confident tone, even though you could see his inner panic behind his eyes. “I’ll carry everything, no problem. I’m ready to be a dad,”.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see how ready you are when the baby actually gets here,”.

Just as you said that, Joe leaned down to kiss you softly, a kiss that was sweet, slow, and full of promise. He pulled away after a moment, his lips twirling into a grin. “I’ll be ready, babe. You know why?” He paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying this moment. “Because I’m gonna be the best damn dad there ever was and I have the best damn mom by my side,”.

You laughed and rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. You rested your head against his chest for a moment, the soft buzz of the slightly busy store around you fading. “You’re already the best, Joe,”.

He hugged you tighter, his hand gently brushing over your bump, and then he looked at you with a soft smile. “You’re the best too, babe. And this whole baby thing? I think we’ve got this, I’m serious,”.

The two of you stood there for a moment, surrounded by aisles of tiny socks and stuffed animals, but it didn’t matter. At this moment, nothing else was more important than the two of you and the new life you were about to bring into the world. The future felt as bright as Joe’s smile, and there was no one else you’d rather do this with.

As you both walked toward the checkout with your cart full of baby things, Joe glanced down at you with that same, goofy grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Okay, maybe one more pacifier…just in case,”.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re already thinking ahead, huh? I guess we should just buy the whole store,”.

“Well,” Joe said, pulling you close as you reached the register, “We might as well start preparing for the chaos. But hey, at least we’re in this together,”.

“Always, Joe,” you said, smiling as you leaned in for another kiss. “There’s nobody else I’d rather be with right now. Nobody else I’d rather have make me juno,”.

–The End–

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